Sidelined: The Qb And Me Novels & Stories

Alpha King Leonard” Hell Yeah!! I don’t have to go to school so that is a bonus. I finish setting up my laptop and then set some alarms on my phone. I don’t want to even tempt myself to d******d I*******m. I don’t want to see what is happening in my brothers, or the guy’s lives. I know I will stalk them, and it will only make me sad. I decided I would rather avoid d******ding it at all costs. There is a knock on my door and Gabriella opens it.

Why do players like me who've worked half our life to get where we are get pushed to the side just because he's hot and trending? And talented, a snide voice whispers, but I ignore it. I give Nate a lopsided grin. "I'm fine. Go have fun. I'll head back when I'm done here." Nathan Geiger—Nate, as I like to call him—the only member of my team I've let myself get close enough with, smiles at me. “Alright then, mate! Cheers!” He tips off an invisible hat and walks off. I'm finally all alone, left to peddle in my bitter thoughts.

But there was something there something delicate and tender hanging in the air, something that reminded her she wasn't alone anymore. Ignatius looked at her, his face relaxing in the quiet determination of her tone. There was such a fundamental honesty in what she said, such a truth that vibrated within him, even though he had not yet realized its full significance. For years, he had borne the weight of loneliness, believing that his history, his mistakes, had isolated him from all others. But there, standing beside Krishna, with children murmuring far away as they toiled, something within him stirred a comprehension, a thin hope.

I kept going. “The shoulder injury has nothing to do with him. It happened because a barbell slipped during a lift. That’s it. No curse. No distraction. No ‘going soft.’ I got hurt. It sucks. Season’s over. But I’m not. I’ll be back. And when I am, I’ll still be QB1. I’ll still expect every one of you to block, route-run, and play like your life depends on it. Because mine does.” A few heads nodded—slow, thoughtful.

But then something snapped inside me, the moment I remembered my father’s cold words, still ringing in my ears. “Actually,” the words roll out of me before I can think, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’m late for class. Unlike some people who apparently have nothing better to do than harass plus-size girls because they’re starving for attention at home.” For a moment, silence fills the entire hallway. Then, a full laughter ripples behind me from the back. “Must be rough for you, QB.” I continue, my voice steady even though my knees are literally trembling right now.

Then their number seven, a linebacker built like a truck, got in my face after a sack that knocked me to the ground for the second time that quarter. “Davenport,” he said, standing over me without offering a hand. “Maybe if you get your head in the game, you guys might get lucky tonight.” Something hot and angry rose in my chest. I pushed myself off the turf without his help, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. "We'll see," I said, and walked back to the huddle. Whatever had been holding me back all night disappeared in that moment. I called the next play with my jaw tight, took the snap cleanly, and saw Roland running open down the sideline. I threw it, and the pass hit him in stride for

After my sister was born, my mother's love turned into a game decided by a coin toss. Mom had a custom gold coin made: the flower side stood for my sister, and the number side stood for me. For ten years, that coin decided who got the bigger slice of cake, who got a new dress, and even who went to the doctor when we were sick. But the number side never once landed face up. I cried, because none of it was fair, and Mom just looked at me coldly and said, "Your luck is worse than hers. Who are you going to blame for that?" The day my acceptance letter from the elite prep school arrived, all I wanted was a steak cooked by Mom. So I secretly swapped in a rigged coin engraved with a number on both

I hadn't played ten games in the last season and the way I was feeling, I didn't know if I would play again. I was going to be one of those quarterbacks that re-tired early. Shit, I was only twenty-eight, yet I felt like an old man. Too scared to run, pass, or do anything in case something else snapped. The guys were acting nice about it. Telling me to get a grip and that it was all about the game, but I was so fucking scared of doing anything, including sex! "You need to get back out there. What happened to Casanova Sebastian?" Mason said as he passed me another beer.

“And a killer Uno on special teams doesn’t hurt, either.” Trisha, still on crutches, gave a short motivational speech to the crowd. “I’ve been knocked down more times than I can count. But every time, I get back up because of my teammates and because of you—the fans who believe in us. Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do.” Travis and Mia were surprised by how many kids wanted their autographs. One boy handed Travis a football and said, “You’re my favorite quarterback now.” Mia was mobbed by girls asking for tips on tackling and reading offenses.

That was something I was supposed to do. As soon as I arrived at the school, in fact. I promised to do that later. For now, I needed to speak with Maddie about Jamie. It shouldn't concern me but the manner I had seen him in wasn't such a good one. “No.” I corrected myself, reminding myself about how much of a leading player I am in The Quarterback Team. The coach would expect me to call, and would call if the tables were turned. With these thoughts, I snatched my phone from the bed and looked up his number, dialing it immediately.