It Started With A Concussion ??

Jackson's POV

What is wrong with me?

How could I just throw a game like that? I know we didn't lose but we came pretty close to it. That was supposed to be the easiest game of the season, yet with my performance it became the closest one so far.

It was atrocious. My performance today. The worst I think I've ever played in my entire life. And that's not ideal because football is my entire life. The game wasn't just a game to me, the game was my entire life.

I may be exaggerating this a bit, but the minute I was offered that scholarship, my plan was put in motion. The only thing that's been on my mind since I was a child was the NFL. I dreamed of being the best.

I wanted to be equally as good as Joe Montana, Petyon Manning, Aaron Rodgers, even Tom Brady for god's sake. I wanted to be one of the greats.

Now that I was given the opportunity, I knew it was a possibility. But this game, just by looking at the scoreboard, just by listening to what my coach was saying, just looking at the amount of completed passes—it scared me. Because for the first time ever I wasn't able to focus. And I don't know why.

Oh shut up Jackson, you know exactly why you weren't able to focus.

She was the reason you weren't able to focus.

Friday was a normal hangover day, and this morning when I woke up, I barely ate breakfast before heading to the game like I usually did.

It was when I was strapping my wristband to my arm and eyed the hair tie on my wrist that it all came back to me.

It came in images, what happened that night. The night we graduated and Trevor threw that huge party. We were in a dark room, I knew I was with her because her voice pierced my ears as she yelled at me. There was a small gap before I remembered her against the wall, I was standing so close to her, then she kissed me.

I sat on the bench contemplating what I was remembering. The longer I stared at the red band, the more that came back to me. I don't know if anything was said, but I remember kissing her back.

I remember pulling her so close that there was no space between us, I remember cupping her face, I remember the way she tasted because I remember putting my tongue in her mouth.

It really started to hit me what I had done when the refs called for the captains. It was slightly drizzling, but it wasn't that hot. I hadn't exerted any energy. So why was I sweating?

The ref asked for a side. "Tails." I quickly blurt out.

Tails?

"Tails? You never say tails Riley." El bumped me on the shoulder.

I know. I know I never say tails. I always call heads. Why did I call tails?

"It's heads." The refs announce and my heart begins to speed up. They choose to receive the ball first and I walk away.

That was just the start of the game. I feel like I got progressively worse each play. I'd call a play and they'd snap the ball to me, but every single time my mind was plagued with her.

I tried to shut her out of my head, but it was almost impossible. I only came to my senses when a 200 pound man was five feet in front of me.

By halftime I was frustrated with myself. Coach had been yelling at me all game, and he had a good reason to. The team we were playing was the worst in our area. So how come they were only a field goal away from tying the game?

I knew it was me. I knew it was all because of me. But it was me because of her. I spotted her on the bleachers talking to my mom, and the images worsened the moment I saw her. Because my senses heightened and I felt like I was reliving the moment in five seconds.

I groaned and shook my head.

I was frustrated because I was playing terribly. I don't let girls distract me. They never get the chance to. I kiss them, they kiss me, and that's it. They don't steal my attention away from the game I love.

But she did. And I didn't like it. I was angered at myself for letting her in the first place. I should hate her for it. But I hated that I couldn't hate her for getting me distracted. I was annoyed, I was frustrated, but I didn't hate her.

Though I hated the way I couldn't get that kiss out of my head. I've kissed a lot of girls but it's not like I remember them, at least, not like this. I should be grossed out for something like that, yet I find myself not to be.

I don't feel grossed out and I can't figure out whether I liked it or not. I shouldn't, but I really can't tell.

What is going on with me?

Bad things. Bad things are going on with you. Because now she's laying on the bed next to me in her pajamas and I keep wondering if she even remembers what happened.

The more I think about it, the more I realize she probably does. Because at the diner I can swear her cheeks were red. She wasn't sick but I assumed it was too hot or maybe makeup.

I don't know. But now I realize she could've actually lied at the table. She could've lied about not knowing. I didn't have to because I didn't remember it at the time. Now that I do, it seems more like a possibility that she was blushing.

I glance at her and then at my wrist. The images flood my brain once more and I find myself feeling a stupid little feeling. The faintest tug plays at my lips before I shake my head.

No. We're not feeling a stupid fucking feeling.

Kayla calls Elliot to the bathroom and as he gets up I have a clear view of her. She's just laying there, stomach down, going through her phone.

I didn't even realize that I reached for her hair tie until a familiar snapping sound filled the room. Before I could look away her head turned in my direction.

And it's awful.

Because she doesn't know that I know. And she doesn't know that the moment I lock eyes with her, I go back to the moment I had her in my arms, backed against the wall with my tongue pushed past her lips.

Jesus. I need to get a fucking grip.

I turn to face the wall. I try to find something else that'll get me not to think of her. We have this trip, but she'll be there everyday. The only other thing that comes to my mind is the bet.

But that bet included her too. And it was a dangerous fucking bet. I knew it when I made it and she accepted it because she was clueless and too prideful for her own good.

So maybe that's it. The bet is the way out of this. I don't know how, but acknowledging this situation as part of the bet made it a bit better. It was still bad but now I had an excuse. I had a motive.

Win the bet and everything you're feeling won't matter.

I'm probably fucking insane. I know that.

Because this bet is high stakes. Make the "enemy" fall for you. Easy, right?

Wrong. This is fucking bad. She's not going to make it easy.

And as bad as I know it is, the thought of losing seems worse. I don't lose. And I'm not about to.

I can use these three days down here to my advantage and maybe I can even win it. Win the bet, lose the feelings. It's a win-win in my mind.

Now I just have to figure out how the hell I'm going to do that.

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Ooooo Jackson....feeling okay?

Thoughts???