Lincoln-Chapter One

Lincoln

My brother, Boston, and I are the first to make it to the locker rooms. Excitement rushes through me as I begin changing out for tonight's game. But, unlike me, instead of being in the locker room, getting his head in the game, Boston’s got his tongue down his girlfriend Aspens' throat under the bleachers.
It’s not too long before other guys begin to make their way in, and soon enough, the locker room is filled with the excited talk, whoops, and hollers of my teammates. It comes as no surprise to me when Bos is one of the last few to come strolling into the locker room just before our Coaches join us. When Coach makes his appearance, we all know that playtime is over and it's time to shut our mouths and get serious.
"Alright guys, I know that this team is undefeated so far this season, but they haven't played us yet," his voice gets louder, rising with his excitement with each word that leaves his mouth. "But tonight," he says, raising his finger and pausing for effect, "tonight, that changes. Because tonight, we're going to beat their asses!"
"Yeah!" We all shout, filling the locker room with our excitement.
"Let's get out there and play our hearts out. Boston and Avett, you two have been busting your asses getting ready for tonight, make us proud. Viktor, Reggie, you know what to do." He smirks, nodding in their direction, making me wonder what exactly they have up their sleeve.
"Alright, men! Let's go show them what we're made of!" Coach shouts, shooting both of his hands in the air, throwing up the *Hook 'em Horns* signs with both of them.
"Coach, we aren't the Longhorns!" Matteo smarts off, with a shake of his head.
*****
"Nice arm out there, Lincoln!" The quarterback coach tells me as I come off of the field, clapping me on the shoulder. Although, I don't feel anything other than the slight jostling of my pads themselves.
Going over to the cooler filled with ice water, I fill a cup and gulp it down as I turn towards the field where I watch our defense fight to keep the Raiders from gaining any yards on us. I watch Brandon get knocked on his ass, nerves hitting me when he doesn't immediately get up.
*Shit, please let him be okay. We really need him, plus it's his senior year.*
Coach runs out to the field, and after speaking with him for a few minutes, he slowly gets up, Coach and Avett helping him over to the sidelines.
"You okay, man?" I ask, making my way over to where he's sitting with his leg propped up on the bench, our team medic packing his ankle with packs of ice.
"It's my fucking ankle," he snarls through gritted teeth, his eyes pinched closed, not even looking at me as he speaks.
"Do you think there’s any chance that it's *not* broken?" I ask, knowing that there really isn't any way to know without him getting an x-ray. But judging by the obvious swelling that I can already see and the awkward ankle that his ankle is sitting at, I’m afraid that it isn’t very likely, not that I’m going to voice those thoughts out loud.
"I hope the fuck not, but I heard two very distinct pops..."A tear slips down his cheek, and I feel for him, hoping to God that it's nothing too severe. "Fuck!"
"I'm sorry, man," I tell him, resting my hand on his shoulder, hoping that he can hear the sincerity in my voice since he still hasn't opened his eyes. Not that I can blame him, but I don't think I would want to face the reality that my Senior year could be over with just one bad play, one wrong move, either.
We all watch as two paramedics run out onto the field, stopping once they’ve reached Brandon. They assess his ankle, talking amongst themselves before strapping what looks to be a temporary splint on him and then helping him get to his feet or foot. Then, with one on each side of him, the paramedics help carry him off of the field.
At the sound of a whistle being blown, I turn my attention back to our Coach, “Alright guys, what’s happened to Brandon sucks but are we going to let it stop us from winning this game?” he asks.
We all chant “No!”
“Then, let’s get back out there and beat these guys' asses, if not for the win, then for Brandon.” He then goes over our next play and then we break.
I put my helmet back on, take a deep breath, and vow to play my hardest, for me, for the team, and for Brandon, as I make my way back out onto the field and get into position to call the next play.
With sweat dripping into my eyes, and my heart nearly beating out of my chest, I watch as Bos runs down the field, aiming to make the final touchdown for the night. As he runs the ball from the thirty, heading toward the endzone, I cringe and hold my breath as he narrowly misses getting tackled.
And then again.
And again.
Just as their linebacker knocks Bos off of his feet, he dives, his arms extended forward with the ball in his hands, landing just over the endzone as he hits.
He did it!
We did it!
And fuck, does winning give you a high like nothing else.
"Way to go, bro!" I say, pulling Bos into a hug and clapping him on his shoulder pads when he finally makes his way back to the rest of us.
"Thank fuck you have such a good arm. Otherwise, we would have been fucked. They sacked you as soon as the ball left your fingers," he says as if I'm not aware of said sacking.
"No, shit," I say, laughing. "They nearly had you several times too, you got fucking lucky too."
"Luck, that was all skill." He chuckles, a grin on his face as he nods toward some of the other guys and we begin making our way off of the field.
"I know I'm fucking ready to get wasted and celebrate," I tell him as we make our way over to the fieldhouse. "Are you and Aspen going to the pasture party over on Mr. Huntley's property tonight?"
“Yeah, we'll be there." He says, giving me a smirk that says they'll likely be late—or won't end up staying long. I love Aspen like a sister—hell since her mom married our dad, she is our sister—but more than anything, I love how happy she makes my brother.
I would do anything for either one of them, in a heartbeat if they needed it.
After showering, I get dressed quickly and catch a ride with Avett, Mateo, and Andre to the party, not bothering with trying to see if Bos is still around or not. He's likely getting his dick sucked, and that is not a sight that I want to walk in on, *again*.
Once we get to the party, it's already in full swing and a beer finds its way into my hand before I even get the chance to try to find one myself. The three of us make our way over to another group of our teammates who are ruminating about the game tonight, and how we nearly got our asses handed to us during the third quarter when Coach put in the second string thinking that we had it in the bag.
Big mistake.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for giving the underclassman their shot at game time, but that's not when we're playing one of our biggest rivals and we're only up by a few touchdowns. That was a dumbass move, and I'm pretty sure that he knew it and regretted it as soon as he saw how horribly they played, and how quickly the other team began to score against us.
"Lincoln." A girl says my name, pulling my attention back to what was going on around me.
"Did you say my name?" I ask, turning around and taking in the two girls that have joined our little group. One is a cute brunette with deep brown eyes, and the other, “Woah,” I mutter to myself, taking in the sight of a gorgeous blonde that literally stops me in my tracks as my pulse begins to beat faster and my dick comes to life.