1

                                    

                                          
Dimitri Booker 
         "Hear me out on this son, you are not going to make it to the NFL by drinking and going out every weekend. Those college parties are not more important than your career and future. Don't let it happen again." My jaw clenched as the call ended, it took a lot in me not to throw my phone against the wall. We literally won and my dad is hounding me about celebrating. 
That's what he does best, he monitors my every move like a full time job. After two full years of college I still don't know how he knows where I be at. I wouldn't be surprised if he followed me and my friends from a burner account on instagram or put a tracking device inside my body, who knows. 
"You good Meech?" 
"I'm straight." I lied almost forgetting that I wasn't home. Tasha was peering from beneath her blankets, rubbing her eyes. Her messy bun hanging loosely. "I'm finna head out though."
"Already? No cuddles? It's literally Sunday." She whined and I shook my head at her trying to use her baby voice on me. After the venue party last night she asked me to slide through and of course I ain't pass up on that— the sex be hitting. We've been playing this same game since last semester, messing around on and off.
"Don't do that" I walked over to the bed and kissed her cheek. "Ima hit you later" 
"Hmph fine, text me when you make it" Thankfully she didn't press me to speak any further as she let her head fall back down onto her pillows.
We aren't supposed to be doing this and we both know it. I'm surprised we've gotten away with it for so long seeing as players and dancers are a prohibited pair, if anyone ever told on us I'd be riding the bench. Now that I think about it, this actually isn't worth that kind of trouble but it gives me a thrill I can't explain. 
"Fasho." As I was walking towards the front door I was shocked to hear gospel music blaring from her roommates bedroom, it made me wonder who she was. It reminded me of being back at home, my mom only allowed gospel music on Sundays like her and my dad ain't go to the club on Saturday nights, what saints they are.
As I drove back to the apartment I shared with my homeboy Roman whose a running back on the team and my boy Joseph who's a linebacker, I found myself replaying how we almost lost the game. 
I usually take my triumphs and go but my dad was right, almost losing isn't a means for celebration when you're trying to go pro. This is my third year playing college football and it's only getting tougher. I'd hate to tarnish my image by making stupid decisions but I also feel like my dad goes hard on me to succeed in the areas he failed in, like he's living through me.
I pulled into my assigned parking spot and hopped out the car throwing my draw string bag over my shoulder and locking my car door. 
"Hey Meechie." Roman's sister Remiya was the first to greet me as I locked the front door. The smell of a freshly cooked breakfast engulfed my nostrils. "Let me guess, you were with Claire or Susie this time?" 
"You nosey ain't it" I squinted. "If you ready to declare your love for me say that and I'll cut everybody off"
"Oh please, I'm a basically a grown woman. I need me a man"
"So I'm not a man" I crossed my arms causing her to stifle a giggle. She was like two years older than me, I don't know why she treat me like a kid.  My stomach growled desperately as I kicked my shoes off and headed straight towards the kitchen, my hand earning a smack as I reached for a piece of bacon.