Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 41: Jake

Sometimes I thought Harper looked at situations completely different than most people - level-headed, straight through the bullshit, and without any shred of girl drama.

Other times, like now, she's lost her damn mind.

I wasn't the most functional person after games, as both my mind and body wound down from the adrenaline rush and the withdrawal crash hit me hard soon after. Mentally, my brain still clicked through recaps of plays and reactions, down to the tiniest details of what we executed well and what still needed improvement. Physically, my body went from pumped full of frenetic energy that wanted to burst through my skin to muscles and joints sagged heavily with fatigue.

Our win secured us at the top of the PAC-12's Southern Division, with 2-1 Utah as next week's opponent. My mind tuned out the usual post-game coaches' speeches, game ball presentation, and celebrations because Zach was notably absent after he went down with three minutes left in the fourth quarter.

As soon as Coach Campell dismissed us, I headed straight to our trainer Tim. "How is he?" I asked over the backdrop of ruckus chants and whoops around us.

"Potential concussion." Tim's gray eyebrows frowned. "Sent him to Good Samaritan for an MRI to know for sure."

"Fuck," I cursed and dragged one hand through my sweat-soaked hair. "Does his family -"

"They and Sophia went with him." His eyes met mine and one of his palms clamped on my shoulder.

"'Kay, thanks," I mumbled, nodded stiffly, and weaved through the heated, smelly bodies.

As I walked towards my locker, hand slaps and fist bumps stopped me every few steps but my feet stopped when I saw Zach's locker sat empty two spaces over. The silent reminder faced me like a gray cloud hung in a perfectly blue sky.

With a grunt, I flopped down in my space, pulled out my phone, and fired off a message I hoped was received at some point.

me: Hope you're ok, bro.
me: Let me know if you need anything. Mom brought buckets of food as usual.

I hadn't expected a response, so I was surprised when I got one right back.

Zach: Thanks Jake.

I blinked a few times, like his response wasn't really on my screen, but an explanation soon followed.

Zach: It's Sophia.

Explains why he called me Jake.

The locker room activity blurred into incoherent background noise as I focused on my response.

me: Take care of him, Soph. Keep me updated.

Zach: Of course. Thanks.

The gravity of Zach's situation, both as my tight end and friend, weighed heavily in my mind as I showered away the sweat, dirt, turf marks, and grime off my body, then dressed in solitary silence. After a quick spray of cologne, a half-empty bottle of Brut Harper herself had bought me in high school, I headed outside where she waited with Mom in the parking lot.

I wasn't entirely sure what Harper's plans were today, but sure was stoked when I saw she sat in her seat. The consistency of her presence, middle fingers included, mattered to me to the extent I wanted her to know that I appreciated it.

Today, Zach's injury being the exception, our offense and defense dominated both sides of the ball and my four touchdown passes were worth the flashier offensive approach. From the opening kickoff, a lightness filled me during the game, which had just been... fun.