Page 13 of These Secret Years

Meanwhile, my pulse is thrumming. I can feel the vibration of the rapid beats in my neck. I deepen my breath to calm myself from whatever’s getting to me. Anxiety? Excitement?

“New topic,” Deandre says. “Who here’s planning to go pro?”

I’m surprised only a handful of the football players raise their hands. Knight, the twins, Deandre, which I already knew, and Rod. Tyson shakes his head.

“What’s the plan then, Ty?” D asks.

“Look, I’m gonna play my ass off, guaranteed.” Tyson looks at Knight when he says this. “But I came for the education. No one in my family ever graduated college, and I have always wanted to be a lawyer. The game’s my full ride.”

“Cool. What about you, Cope?”

Another one of the players with his hand down is one of the guys I played somewhere in the middle rounds. His name is Braden and he seemed like a nice guy if a little quiet. “Same. I wanted the full ride. The NFL is just—I don’t really see myself being happy playing ball professionally. Don’t get me wrong, I love the game, and like Ty said, I’ll play ‘til I collapse, but nah. Going pro’s not for me.”

Knight clears his throat softly beside me, but I swear everyone hears and looks over at him. “I really am just here to play ball,” he says with all the guys’ attention on him. “Going pro’s sort of in my blood.”

“Is that a lot of pressure?” D asks.

“No, not at all,” Knight says. “I love the game. Everything about it, literally. The strategy, the competition, the rivalries, the fans. But it’s also, you know—well, you can make a difference once you’re pro, you know?”

“What kind of difference?” I find myself asking. For some reason I don’t feel like he’s gonna say anything about being a role model on social media.

“My dad and uncles started a foundation that gives scholarships to kids like the guys I played with in high school. Saginaw is a shit town that lost half its population to better places with more work. Most of the guys on the team were living below the poverty line. Football was their only way out, and they fuckin’ hated me when I transferred in.”

Tyson mumbles, “My team wouldn’t have been too happy to have someone like you show up either.”

Knight doesn’t take this in a bad way. He nods in total understanding. “I get it. And I also get that a lot of the guys saw sports as their only way out. But like—not everyone was good, you know?”

Some silence, some nodding.

“But playing isn’t the only way to have a career in sports. I mean there’s a ton of ways to take your love of whatever game and turn it into something meaningful and make a living. Coaching, sports medicine, PT, journalism, agenting. It’s a whole industry.”

“And so what? You’re gonna start a charity for people who can’t get on a good team?”

“I don’t know,” Knight says. “Something like that? What I’m more interested in is people having opportunities and not feeling trapped. I’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. Meanwhile, the NFL is just the first step, and I love the game. I bleed football.”

Deandre sticks out his fist, and Knight bumps his knuckles against it as naturally as any reflex. “Hell yeah, QB.”

As one of the other guys explains why he’s not going pro I ask Knight, “Did you mean all that?”

He nods, acting like he’s listening to the other guy talk, but I feel his attention on me in the press of his leg.

“So, your name’s literal then.”

He grins and shakes his head. “I just don’t think all that fame and money should go to waste. Or towards a bunch of bullshit that doesn’t matter.”

Meanwhile, the conversation around the fire has moved on to girlfriends. I watch the way the guys who have them get excited and sentimental as they speak. The phrase first love comes up a lot. There’s uncertainty among them too, though. Like they’re not sure the long distance relationships most of them are in can work. Weirdly, no one is worried they’ll find someone new. They’re more concerned their girlfriend will.

While I’ve never kissed a girl or been with a girl, I’ve definitely wondered whether I’m missing out. No one in particular comes to mind, but I can chalk that up to a hundred things. My obsessions. My obligations. Adrian. Again.

I have to work harder for my next breath, and I guess Knight notices. “Sorry,” he mumbles, removing his leg from mine and crossing his long legs in front of him. My first instinct is to grab hold of his jeans and drag his thigh back to where it was.

Not being sure about my sexuality means exactly that. I’m not sure. It’s one of those things I’m hoping to sort out sooner rather than later. I can’t get away from Adrian—not yet—but while I’m a few states away from him, I can certainly try to figure myself out on my own.

When there’s a lull in the conversation, someone asks, “Should we get more wood or head home?”

It’s a resounding more wood.

I actually do want to check the time now because classes start tomorrow. Surely some of these people have early ones. I don’t, but what about football practice?