FALLING FOR THE QUARTERBACK

CHAPTER FOUR

Tyler couldn't stop thinking about her. It was ridiculous, really. He was Tyler Bennett, star quarterback, campus legend, the guy every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be. He didn't obsess over girls. He didn't lie awake at night replaying conversations in his head, analyzing every word, every gesture, every glance.

But that was exactly what he was doing. Three weeks after the elevator, two weeks after the football field, and he was still thinking about Ruby Sinclair. The way her amber eyes had blazed with defiance. The way her voice had softened when she'd told him he wasn't a disappointment. The way she'd touched his arm like it was nothing, like it didn't mean anything, when it had meant everything. He was falling.

He didn't realize it at first. He just thought he was curious, interested in the girl who'd seen through his facade, who'd called him out on his bullshit, who'd offered comfort without expecting anything in return. He told himself it was nothing. Just a passing fascination with someone who was different from the girls who usually threw themselves at him.

But then he found himself looking for her on campus. Scanning the crowds between classes, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dark hair, her paint-stained fingers, her perpetual look of barely contained irritation. And when he didn't see her, he felt... empty. Hollow. He started following her on i********:. It wasn't stalking. It was just... research. He wanted to know more about her, to understand her. And social media was the easiest way to do that.

He scrolled through her posts late at night, when he should have been sleeping. There weren't many, she wasn't the type to document every moment of her life, but each one was carefully curated, each one offering a glimpse into who she was beneath the surface. A photo of a half-finished painting, colors swirling together in a way that was both beautiful and unsettling.

A candid shot of her and her roommates, laughing at something off-camera, their joy genuine and infectious. A quote, written in her distinctive handwriting: "I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become."

Tyler saved that one. He didn't know why. He just knew he wanted to remember it. He learned other things too. She worked at the campus coffee shop three days a week. She was an art major with a minor in psychology. She had two roommates, Amy, a bubbly communications major who seemed to be her closest friend, and Taylor, a quiet English major who was rarely in the photos but always mentioned in the captions. She didn't post much about her family, but the few mentions he found were tinged with sadness, with longing, with something that looked a lot like grief. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. But he didn't know how to ask.

"You're distracted." Tyler blinked, realizing he'd been staring at his phone for the past ten minutes instead of reviewing the playbook in front of him. Marcus was watching him with a knowing look.

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Marcus leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You've been off for weeks. Ever since that elevator thing."

"That was nothing."

"Uh-huh. Then why do you keep checking your phone like you're waiting for someone to text you?"

Tyler shoved his phone in his pocket, his jaw tightening. "I'm not waiting for anyone."

"Sure." Marcus's tone was skeptical. "Is it that girl? The art student you got stuck with?"

"She's not... it's not..."

"Spit it out, man."

Tyler sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what it is. She's just... different."

"Different how?"

"Different from everyone else. She doesn't care about football or my stats or any of that. She just..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain. "She sees me. The real me. And she doesn't run away." Marcus studied him for a long moment. "Sounds like you've got it bad."

"I don't have anything. We're not even friends."

"But you want to be."Tyler was silent, and that silence was answer enough. "Look," Marcus said, his voice softer now, "I've known you for three years. I've seen you with girls, hell, I've seen you avoid girls. I've never seen you like this. If she's different, if she's worth it, then don't screw it up by being too scared to try."

"I'm not scared."

"Then what are you?"

Tyler thought about it. Really thought about it. And the answer, when it came, surprised him. "I'm terrified," he admitted. "I'm terrified that she'll see the real me and decide I'm not worth it. I'm terrified that I'll mess this up like I mess up everything else. I'm terrified that.."

"That you'll be like your father?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He looked at Marcus, stunned. "How did you..."

"You talk in your sleep sometimes." Marcus shrugged. "And I know you, man. I know how much your dad's s**t messed you up. But you're not him, Tyler. You're nothing like him."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're sitting here, terrified of hurting a girl you're not even dating. Because you care so much about being good that you're paralyzed by the fear of being bad. Your father didn't care. He just did whatever he wanted and expected everyone to forgive him. You're not like that."

Tyler wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that he was different, that he could be better, that he deserved something good. But there was a voice in the back of his mind, his father's voice, whispering that he would never be enough. That he would always fall short. That he was destined to become the thing he hated most.

"I don't know if I can do this," he said quietly.

"You don't have to know." Marcus stood, clapping him on the shoulder. "You just have to try."