12. Taking Chances

"You've changed, Addison," were the first words I heard as I walked into my fathers' joint office. My heart raced as I took a seat in the chair he'd pulled up for me. Every so often, Padre and I would have a writing session together, and with the messiness that was wreaking havoc in my brain, there was nothing that I needed more, especially before our big football game in the evening.

I didn't know that this would add to the stress though.

I swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Addison. You've been more reserved and on edge about everything. I can see it in your eyes, you're nervous about something, piccolo (baby), and I want to help you with whatever it is." He gently put his hand on my back.

I broke eye contact as I felt a surge of emotions rush through me. I had to keep the tears that were egging on at bay. "I don't know," I confessed, trying to figure out how to explain it without straight out telling him what my problem was. I knew he'd been in my shoes before, a questioning athlete who had someone they were falling head over heels for without meaning to (my heart squeezed as I thought those words for the first time), but the only difference was that I was in a relationship and Padre hadn't been. I just didn't want him to think any less of me, nor did I want to speak misfortune into existence.

"You know...I've liked football for a while now. I love it. It's brought me so many different memories and it's beautiful— I-I mean a beautiful game. It makes me feel things that I thought only football could make me feel, but then, uh, writing came along and completely flipped everything on its head. At first, it was just a small, innocent crush— like a crush on writing because it was fun, but then it turned into something way more, no matter how much I tried to stay focused on football. A-And now I think about him morning and evening, and it's making me feel things that it shouldn't. And it's not fair to football because we've put so much time and effort into each other just for me to bail for writing now. I'm just confused." I was breathing heavily by the time I was done, but the weight of those words had vacated my skull, alleviating some pressure.

Padre pitched a brow. "Him?"

My heart dropped. "W-What do you mean him?"

"You said him when you were talking about writing and thinking about it all the time."

"Oh, that was a slip of the tongue." I quickly covered. "You know, in psych, we learned that people can deal better with their emotions if they envision them as people. That's what I'm trying."

"Huh," Padre said, though the way he said that small three-lettered word told me he wasn't convinced. "Well, that's the nice thing about being young: you have so much time to figure everything out. You can figure out your way through football and writing. Maybe you'll like football more and drop writing completely, though I hope you don't, or you could end up liking writing a ton and completely forget about football. Or you could find a nice balance between the two."

"But what if I can't?" I softly asked. "What if trying to balance it makes things worse? It already has, and I don't want to let anyone down."

"I understand, son. Truly I do. But the most important thing is to make sure that you don't let yourself down. And even if you do, you need to learn how to pick yourself back up and learn from it, do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," I said, though this conversation did little to answer the burning question within me: what do I do?

Padre clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't stress yourself too much over it. You'll naturally lean toward what you want to do. You have time, kiddo. Now come on, you don't have that much time before we need to head up to your school for the football game."

I nodded and faced my computer, allowing my fingers to mindlessly puke out words while a supernova of confusion continued growing behind my eyes.

I walked into the office hoping that I could get some answers, but all I got were more questions.

***

"That's what I'm talking about, Barnett!" Coach yelled as Tyler made another amazing catch during our warm-ups. The team patted him on the back as the band's lively melodies filled the air and the lights streamed down on us. "He's angry. He wants it! You all should want this as badly as he does! Make these bulldogs tuck their tails between their legs and regret the day they set foot in our house!"

The team hooped and hollered as they continued gassing Tyler up, but I could tell that something was wrong. Tyler was angry, and though it made him an amazing player, it made me nervous. I'd never seen his eyebrows as furrowed and his eyes as wild as I had that night. It worried me. A lot.

Coach clapped his hands together and waved us to come closer. We all huddled together, our hands tightly gripping onto each other's shoulders as we eagerly awaited Coach's words of encouragement. "You boys see them?" he said, motioning to the people steadily flowing into the stands and the cars that were backed up in the parking lot. "They came here for you. All of you. For these four quarters, these two hours or so of their lives, they get lost in you. No matter their home situation or money situation or academic situation, they come to support you. You all are what bring all these different people together and we're sure as hell not going to let them leave here feeling worse than they did when they got here, are we?"

"No sir!" we all chanted, but out of the corner of my eye, I realized that Tyler wasn't responding. Instead, his mouth was pressed in a thin line and I saw conflict raging behind his unusually hard eyes.

"Good. Now, take these few minutes and get yourselves ready. Encourage one another, go over game strategies, and when we get back on this field, we're going to put those bulldogs in the dog house." Coach stretched out his hand, prompting the team to pile their hands on top of his. "Trojans on three, one, two three-"

"Trojans!" we all shouted before we dispersed, all on our way back to the locker room one final time before it was showtime.

I broke away from the group and made my way to the sidelines where the dance team girls were stretching and instantly found Kyra. As usual, she looked gorgeous in her makeup-- and in my opinion, she looked even better out of it-- but the glittering eyeshadow and bold red lips didn't hide the sad look she had in her eyes. She was still torn up over what happened with her dad, and I couldn't blame her. He'd stopped by earlier in the week to try to beg for her and her mother's forgiveness, which resulted in Kyra's mom having to throw a plate at him for him to finally leave. He came and got his stuff the night before, and no matter how much she tried to shake it off, I could tell it was still weighing heavily on her slumped shoulders. No amount of makeup or stretching could cover that up.

"Hey, babe," I gently greeted as I crouched down next to her, leaning in for a kiss.

"Addison, we need to talk," she softly said as she stood up and grabbed my hand, not once meeting my eyes as she pulled me away from the girls. The way she said my name made my heart sink into my toes. The last time she'd said my name like that was when she told me her dad had cheated on her mom. Sweat collected on my neck beneath my heavy uniform that had nothing to do with the drills we'd just run and everything to do with the nervousness that was running inside my veins.

Once she determined we were far enough she stopped and turned toward me, the floodlights creating a beautiful halo over her neat, slicked-back hair. As she looked up at me with those doe eyes I fell in love with, her jaw slightly began to tremble. I instantly took her hands in mine. "Baby, what's wrong-?"

"We need to take a break," she quickly said as she pulled her hands from mine.

Shock couldn't begin to describe the dark heavy feeling that spread throughout my chest. My throat became tight as my heart ached. "Wh-What?" My voice was barely above a whisper and it shook as if it were a leaf in the wind, fragile and ready to disappear at any moment. "Baby, you can't be serious. What did I do?"

"That's the thing. You didn't do anything," she said as she cupped my cheeks as moisture built up behind her waterline. "You didn't do anything, Addi. Absolutely nothing."

Tears blurred my vision as I looked down at her. "Then why are you doing this to me?"

She shook her head. "I-I don't know. I needed to do it now because I knew if you walked out on this field at game time and kissed me right before you got in your starting position like you always do, I wouldn't be able to do it. Gosh, I can barely do it now. I love you too much." She let out a humorless chuckle as she shook her head. "I love you too much, Addison."

"Then tell me what the problem is. I promise I'll solve it, but please don't do this to me. Not now," I begged as I wrapped my fingers around her hips in the way that usually made her melt into my arms. I had no such luck this time around.

"But you can't fix it, Addison. Look, there's just too much going on in my life with my dad, and I can't afford to be distracted right now. I need to be there for my mom without my body aching to be next to yours or always rushing to the phone to hear you say I love you in the way that makes my knees weak and my heart melt. I just can't neglect my mom right now, and as I said, I love you too much Addi. I love you so much that I bury myself in you when times get rough and I-I just can't right now--"

"I understand." Those two words felt like nails in my tongue as they slid past my lips. Looking down at her, I realized that I loved her too much to make her feel like she was choosing between me and her mother, so I wasn't going to put up a fight. I could see how hard it was on her, there was no use making it harder. So, I swallowed my selfish desires to hold onto her so tightly that we became one and never let her go, and let my arms drop from around her body.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as tears spilled over her waterline and down her cheeks.

"Don't be, piccola," I softly comforted as I gently swept my thumb across her cheek, catching the tear before it could travel any further. "I understand. As long as you're happy and safe, that's all the matters to me, even if it doesn't include me." As those words left my mouth, I felt myself being pushed deeper and deeper into the ground. It felt like my knees were about to give out at any second. All I wanted to do was scream and cry and beg for her to stay with me and curse her dad for his messy actions ruining our perfect relationship. But I couldn't. I had to accept that I lost control.

She let out a shaky breath. "I promise that one day, I'll come back to you," she softly said as she raised her pinky.

Despite the sadness that was coursing through my veins, I brought my pinky to meet hers. I nodded, unable to speak before I brought my lips to my thumb as she did the same, sealing our promise.

"Thank you," she whispered before she turned and hurried back to the team.

As I watched her return to her teammates wearing a mask as if everything was fine, I felt an overwhelming feeling of emptiness as if someone had taken an ice cream scooper and hollowed me out. I knew that she said she'd come back to me, but nine times out of ten, when a couple "took a break", they were done for good.

I viciously wiped away the tears that were building up in my eyes at the thought and turned to head back to the locker room with the rest of the boys when I heard someone call my name. I turned to see my dads and my siblings waving at me from the front row with ecstatic smiles on their faces. But, as soon as Papa and Padre saw the look on my face, their smiles dropped and they asked me the silent question that I wasn't ready to answer. Instead, I merely waved at them and hurried back to the locker room, ignoring their heated gazes on my back. I only had ten more minutes until showtime. I needed to screw my head on straight and get locked into the game.

As soon as I walked in, a deafening roar of voices filled my ears as some boys talked about football strategies and others talked about our rival team, the Bulldogs, and others talked about girls they thought looked hot in the stands. But, the thing that instantly caught my attention was Tyler sitting in front of his locker alone, the same stoic look on his face that had been there since we got on the field to run drills.

There was a saying if you want to distract yourself from your own problems, bury yourself in someone else's, and in that moment, I decided to follow that saying as I approached Tyler.

"Hey man, what's going on? You seem kinda tense," I said as I sat down next to him.

He shook his head, turning away from me. "Nah, man. You wouldn't understand."

He made a move to get up but I put a hand on his shoulder. His body tensed as he paused, but we both knew he could've easily gotten up and continued walking away if he really wanted to. But he didn't. He wanted to be stopped. Whatever wound was afflicting him was calling out to the new wound that'd been sliced into me.

He looked at me.

"I'm willing to learn."

The shield that'd been erect behind his eyes slowly crumbled away, revealing anger, sadness, and tiredness.

He sighed as he sat down next to me, his gaze finding his laced together hands in his lap. "Before I got here, I saw this video flooding the internet. The police killed another unarmed black kid." His jaw clenched as he spoke. "He was already in handcuffs and complying with all of the cop's demands. They were beating him and he was crying for his momma before they straight up shot him in the back." Moisture was building up behind his eyes as he shook his head.

"I'm so sorry, Ty. That's awful and sickening that there are still racist cops going after innocent people."

He scoffed. "That's an understatement." He sighed, his eyes finally meeting mine. The fluorescent lights were getting captured in the tears that were threatening to fall down his face. "He was the same age as us, man. The same age as me. After all the senseless death, wouldn't you think those twisted cops would've learned their lesson? Every death like this is a punch in the face for us black folks, and every cop that still walks free puts another target on another black man or woman or child's back, man. At this point, I'm more likely to get killed by the cops than I am to graduate college."

The look on his face broke me: the expression of utter defeat, a stark contrast to the confident, laughing expression he always wore.

I gently put my hand on his back. "I'm never going to understand what you're going through, and I'm never going to pretend that I do. But my heart aches for you and your community. What you all face on a daily basis based on your skin color is disgusting, and I'll never understand. I know I don't have that much power, but is there anything I can do?"

"Addi, only ask me that question if you're serious about doing something and not just asking me because you think that'll make me feel better."

"I'm being serious," I pressed.

He looked at me for a second before a grin tugged at the edge of his lips that loosely mended the tear Kyra left in my heart. "Okay, Bruno."

He got up and grabbed two arm sleeves from his locker. "This," he said as he showed me an armband with the word "Mama" on it in big bold letters and smaller names surrounding it, "was the last word Kyle said before they shot him. And these," he said as he pointed to various names that I recognized— Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Sandra Bland, George Floyd and more— and others that I didn't, like Tamir Rice, "these are the people whose lives were stolen too soon. Young and old. Tonight, I'm playing for them." He brandished another identical armband that said "Black Lives Matter" instead of "Mama", "We're playing for them."

I nodded and extended my arm. "We're playing for them." Tyler effortlessly slid the band around my arm, goosebumps arising on its surface from where his skin met mine.

"Are you cold?" He asked, quirking a brow at me.

"Nah, just first game excitement."

"Ah," he said, nodding in understanding as he started tugging on his own arm sleeve.

"Here, I got it," I said as I gently pulled it up his arm, melting against his warm skin like ice cream on asphalt.

"Thanks," he said as the Coach blew his whistle, a wordless command for us all to line up. Without the roar of conversation, I could hear the drumline in the distance and the faint roar of the crowd. My mind instantly went to Kyra and the dance team helping the cheerleaders hype the crowd up, and the heavyweights of grief tied themselves to my ankles.

But, as Tyler gently clapped my back as we made our way to our formation, I felt the chains that were tethering me down loosen little by little.

***

"We showed those bulldogs not to come into our house!" Georgie yelled, slamming his helmet onto the ground as we made our way back into the locker room, earning various versions of "yeah!" or "hell yeah we did!"

"I'm so proud of you all. You really worked together as a team out there," Coach praised with a grin on his face, earning an eruption of cheers.

There was nothing quite like a win beneath the Friday night lights.

"Let's go celebrate! Mikey's on me!" Brandon yelled, causing the room to be filled with excited hoops and hollers before the boys stampeded toward the door like elephants, none of them making a move to shower or even freshen up in the slightest. I felt bad for the people who had to share a subway with us. I laughed and made a move to join them when I saw Tyler sitting down, not sharing the festive mood the rest of us did.

My eyebrows furrowed as I approached him. "Are you not going?"

He shook his head before he pulled off his shirt, revealing his sweat glazed abs that protruded from his stomach. "My dad's shift starts in less than an hour and I gotta look after Serenity."

"What about Jorja?"

"She's a part of this independent study thing in college and she's getting ready for a test."

"Dang man. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he sighed as he got up and stretched, his back popping causing him to cringe. "Well, I hope you and the boys have fun. Thanks again for standing in solidarity with me."

"No problem man," I said, trying to hide my disappointment over him not coming along.

He turned and started heading toward the showers. I sighed and started making my way toward the door, debating whether or not I even wanted to go out with the team anymore.

"Wait," Tyler's melodic voice cut through the air, instantly stopping me in my tracks. I turned toward him and saw him bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. "Actually, uh, would you want to come with? I mean, I know it won't really compare to hanging out with the team, but we could order some takeout and, I don't know, watch a movie?"

His eyes flickered to mine for a brief moment before he turned away, embarrassed. "Never mind, sorry. I'll let you go so you can catch up with-"

"I'd love to." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, as if my mouth and my brain were running a race, and my mouth had won. A slight blush stained my cheeks and it was my turn to look away. "I didn't feel like getting Mikey's anyway," I softly said, unable to meet his eyes.

A sudden warmth filled the room that wrapped around me and absorbed my very being within it, letting me know that Tyler was smiling without me having to look at him. I slowly dragged my eyes to meet his.

"Bet," he grinned before he looked me up and down as he bit the inside corner of his lip in thought. "But, uh, you definitely need to shower. You ain't coming up in my house like that."

I chuckle and rolled my eyes before I took my shirt off and threw it at him, causing his heartwarming laughs to fill the air. "Come on, now. We ain't got time to be messing around."

We both started separate showers before Tyler shamelessly stripped down in front of me and it took every semblance of will power within me to keep me from looking at him. But based on what I caught out of the corner of my eye, he had a body that put Greek gods to shame.

After he climbed into his shower stall, I quickly stripped and got into mine, acutely aware that the only thing separating us was a foot thick wall and plastic shower curtains. The very thought made my heart race and a shiver run down my spine. I stayed in the shower as long as I could until Tyler got out. I knew if I saw even a glance of him naked, I wouldn't be able to hide the excitement his body sent straight to my crotch, and that was something I would've rather kept to myself.

I waited after the sound of shuffling clothes didn't fill the air before I cut off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist. Though I could've been imagining it, I felt Tyler's eyes on me as I walked across the locker room toward my locker with my clothes in it, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. I quickly threw on my clothes before I finally turned around and faced Tyler.

A grin tugged at the edge of his lips as he used his head to beckon me to follow him. "Come on, Addison."

The way he spoke my name caused my insides to melt into mush compared to the painful way Kyra had said it mere hours ago. I shook the memory from my head, not wanting to pull myself out of the distraction Tyler was offering. I couldn't afford to.

The journey to his house was fairly quick (or as quick as it could be in New York), and within no time, we were sitting on his couch.

Once we approached Tyler's front door, he shoved his keys in the lock before he knocked on the door. "I'm comin' in, Pop!" He announced before he pushed open the door. As soon as we walked in, my eyes landed on a man in his mid to late forties running around the kitchen with Serenity on his hip.

"Hey son," he said, not taking his eyes off of the rushed work he was doing. "Can you take Serenity right quick? My arm's getting tired."

Without hesitating, Tyler scooped Serenity in his arms, grinning down at her. "Hey, baby," he said as he kissed her forehead. "How are you?"

My heart fluttered like it always did when I watched him with Serenity.

"Alright. I warmed up some pasta, and there's some bread in the fridge if you want it," his father hurriedly said as he scooped some of the aforementioned pasta into a portable bowl. "There's also some juice in there too. 'Ren might be getting hungry again soon, but you know how to handle that. Oh and one more thing—"

His words died on his tongue as he turned and his eyes landed on me. "Oh. Hi, I didn't see you there."

"Hi, sir. My name's Addison, but most people call me Addi." I extended my hand and he firmly shook it.

"Ah, yes, I recognize that name. Tyler's told me about you."

Tyler loudly coughed as he choked on the pasta he was eating. I raised a brow in his direction.

"Oh has he?"

"He has," his father confirmed, a grin of his own pulling at his lips, showing the single dimple he shared with both Tyler and Serenity. He enjoyed the embarrassment he was causing his son. "Well, I'm Mr. Barnett and I'm..." he trailed as he looked at his watch and sighed, "running late for work." He quickly grabbed his to-go bowl and a plastic fork before he kissed both Tyler and Serenity on the cheeks. "I love you. Don't stay up too late."

"Love you too, dad," Tyler said before Mr. Barnett turned to me.

"It was nice meeting you, Addison."

"It was nice meeting you too, Mr. Barnett," I said with a grin and within a moment, he was gone.

Tyler let out a sigh and I raised a brow at him, grinning. "Are you talking to your dad about me, Tyler?"

"No," he grumbled, causing me to laugh.

"You so are."

"Shut up."

"Tyler-" I taunted in a sing-song voice.

"Look, do you want your pasta or what?" He asked, though the upturn in his lips cracked his feigned rough exterior.

We quickly got our food and crashed on the couch with Tyler balancing Serenity on one knee and his bowl of pasta on the other. The wordless way he held her and looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world screamed a clear message: he'd do anything for her. Anything.

We were watching reruns of Adventure Time when Serenity's light snores filled the air.

He grinned as he set his bowl down. "I'll be right back. I gotta lay this one down."

He wordlessly got up and exited the room. Within minutes, he'd returned empty-handed and without a shirt. It was needless to say that I had no opposition to that change in wardrobe.

He crashed down next to me, his arm firmly being pressed against mine. The small action caused a noticeable shiver to run down my spine. He raised a brow at me. "Are you okay?"

I blushed. "Uh yeah, I just got a little chill, that's all."

"Ah sorry about that. This apartment gets random cold breezes every now and then. Here," he said and without a moment's hesitation, he wrapped his muscular arm around me and pulled me into his warm inviting body.

My heart nearly stopped as he looked down at me with those deep brown eyes as if he wasn't affecting my body the way he was. "Is that better?"

I wordlessly nodded unable to speak in fear of my voice shaking.

He grinned. "Good. Now, what movie are we going to watch?"

He started surfing the channels, but I couldn't take my eyes off his beautiful face. God had meticulously put his features together so that every cell complemented the other. I saw no faults or imperfections, just a god among people.

I had a sudden urge to press my lips to his. I couldn't describe it, but it was a pull that I had no right to neglect my body of experiencing. I'd never felt it before, not even with Kyra as scary as it sounded. I couldn't describe it other than something that I once thought only existed within pages of a book. A work of fiction. But what I was feeling was 100% real and slowly swallowing me whole to the point where all I could think about was the feeling of his lips on mine.

In that moment, I had a choice.

My mind flickered to Kyra. If I did this, that would change our standing forever. But if I didn't, I would be robbing myself of the only chance I'd ever have.

So, without wasting another moment or giving myself the chance to back out, I gripped Tyler's chin and pressed my lips to his.

***

Black lives matter. No if, ands, or buts about it. We matter, and our voices deserve to be heard.

I just wanted that to be the first thing in my author's note because the multiple deaths of black people at the hands of the police are disgusting and heartbreaking as a black person myself. And though I'm too young to vote, I still have a voice and I try to use it through my writing and social media. Tyler's line of him being more likely to be shot by the police than graduate college is a scary thought that was unfortunately true for people like Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, and countless others. There are endless petitions and donations that are available to everyone in order to show your support to the movement and the betterment of the world through the betterment of the treatment of black people. Don't be silent on this issue. As Desmond Tutu said, "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."

On to somewhat "happier" news, Addison finally kissed Tyler. How do you think this will play out in the next chapter? Comment your ideas below! Also, I snuck in a line from my favorite show Euphoria somewhere in this chapter. Can you find it? Comment it if you think you've found it. As always, the next chapter is available for early access on inkitt, so if you don't want to wait to see how Tyler reacts, click the Inkitt link in my bio and read the next chapter for free one week before it's on Wattpad.

I hope y'all have a good rest of y'all's weeks, and if you're protesting, please please PLEASE be careful. I stand with you and am thankful for you, just please be careful.

Love y'all- Jordan

PS just out of curiosity, is this the first book of mine you've read or not? If it's not the first, what was the first book you read of mine/ which of my books is your favorite? If this is the first book of mine you've read, what do you think of it so far? Let me know because I love hearing from y'all