Revenge Game (noun) - A game in which a player is competing against a team he holds a grudge against. He may hold this grudge against an individual player, or be looking for redemption against an entire team.

Even though Clemson's season opener game against Georgia was clean and fair and not particularly malicious, it was still a game that Reid lost, and he took that very personally. So needless to say, when Clemson absolutely walloped Georgia 42-14 in the playoff semi-finals, I wasn't surprised. Not even because I had so much faith in his abilities (which I did), but because I knew that look in his eyes when he'd taken the field. He was angry and dangerous, like a wild caged tiger desperate to escape. I could wager a guess or two as to what he was trying to escape from, and if it hadn't been for my actual contractual obligations, I wouldn't have even watched. It hurt too much.

Two of the elite "New Year's Six" bowls were selected each year to host the two semi-final games of the playoffs on a rotating basis, followed by the National Championship the next week in Houston. We'd driven out to Atlanta for the Peach Bowl against Georgia that Saturday, not even bothering to celebrate New Year's since we went back home early on New Year's Day, then immediately had to begin preparing and packing for Houston, which we then flew out to Thursday night. All the traveling and everything that came with it had begun to take a toll on me - at least, that's what my excuse had been for skipping out on pretty much everything fun and social the team and the staff did the weekend in Houston leading up to the game on Monday.

As Mara and Derek sat with me in my hotel room the night before press day, I figured it was time to fill them in on everything. After all, it was getting increasingly difficult to hide the fact that Reid and I couldn't even make eye contact - at least to the people that mattered. It wasn't that it was getting easier to talk about, because it still felt like I was swallowing little needles every time I said his name, but it helped to talk to people who would sit and listen and try to understand.

Try being the keyword, since they couldn't fully understand. Their situation was different. They were happy together, and I tried not to let it get under my skin.

"Well, I think you made the right decision," Derek said to me with a shrug. "All you've ever wanted was to work in sports media. You'll get over Reid."

Mara smacked him on the arm. "That's so insensitive!"

I couldn't help but chuckle, feeling the very act of laughing foreign against my throat. "It's okay. Derek's always been a little..."

"Crude?" Mara arched an eyebrow.

"I was gonna say capable of inflicting blunt force trauma with his words, but yeah," I chuckled again.

"No please, continue talking about me as if I'm not sitting right here." Derek flopped backwards onto the floor. "I'll just pretend to be part of the carpet."

Mara reached over and put her hand to my arm. "I think what Derek is trying to say is that your career opportunities can be once in a lifetime, but we are capable of loving more than one person in our lifetime."

"Sure." Derek drawled out. "That's exactly what I meant."

Mara and I shared another laugh, and I knew what she said was true. Not because I thought I was miraculously going to get over Reid, but because I had friends and family that I was more than capable of loving, and of being loved by. Not in the same way, but for now, it filled some of the gaps that were meant for him. I just had to hope that one day they'd all be filled.

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Unfortunately I couldn't skip out on press day the day before the game. Field-level at NRG Stadium had been turned into one big press room, with the 50 yard line separating Clemson from Alabama. Prominent players and coaches got their own booths, where the media firestorm could rage for hours.

I tried to make it seem like I was being fair by hanging around other player booths to collect more content, like JJ and Derek and Micah Downs - all of whom had great games against Georgia. Reid Donahue wasn't the only player on Clemson's team, even though the media acted like it all weekend. Which stood to reason of course that they scheduled his press and media at a time that conflicted with nobody else's, so everyone could carve out a piece of him like Thanksgiving turkey.

I took a few photos and tried to linger at the fringes of the crowd, letting Mara handle gathering any video and sound I'd need for content. I hadn't actually seen him all week, and looking at him now, under brilliant lights with his fresh haircut and his sleek white warm up jacket they'd given the team just for the National Championship, made me want to rip my heart out of my chest and stomp on it angrily for allowing this to happen.

Through the intermittent sound of camera shutters and clickers, people started asking questions. "Reid, you're well known for your aggressive style of play, but last week's game felt like another level entirely. There was almost this unhinged ferocity to you against Georgia. Can we expect more of the same for the title game?"

"Absolutely," he answered quickly. "I'm laser focused, and I'm out for blood."

Another reporter chimed in. "There has only been one player in the history of college football to win the Heisman, win a national championship, and be drafted first overall in the same year, and it's the player you draw the most comparisons to - Cam Newton. Is that something you're thinking about going into tomorrow's game?"

When his eyes found mine on the outskirts of the crowd, I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. He looked sad and disappointed - maybe in me for standing in his line of sight, maybe in himself for looking for me in the first place. Maybe both. I realized then and there that what we had wasn't radar, because radar you can switch off. What we had was magnetic, and so long as we were within close enough proximity, we'd always find each other, whether we wanted to or not.

"Uh..." he ripped his gaze away and shook his head. "I'm sorry, can you repeat the question?"

I wanted to burrow underneath the turf until February like a groundhog. Instead I settled for moving along the perimeter of the crowd, looking for a small space to slip myself into so maybe I could blend in. I found Mara and settled in beside her, and I heard the questions continued even though it felt like I'd stuck my head in a fishbowl, everything echoing and far away. More questions came for Reid.

"What's it going to take for you to dethrone the reigning national champions?"

"Just be myself really," Reid shrugged. "Play our game. I don't really see it as dethroning them, anyway. It's more like...the rightful king taking his place."

"And who's that?"

"Me."

My heart kicked up into a frenzy as Mara nudged my arm. "Damn, maybe you should break up with him more often. Maybe he'll win the Super Bowl next year."

I shot her a scathing look, despite the fact that what she said unfortunately had merit.

"Just trying to diffuse the tension a little," she shrugged.

"I know, I know," I muttered, bringing my awareness back to him.

His words were angry and vicious, but I knew that look in his eyes. He was just as heartbroken as I was - the difference was, he had a means of masking it with rage, and someone to take it out on.

And he did.

Reid opened the game with a 60 yard pass to JJ, whipping out his Archer celebration before rushing for a touchdown himself on the next play. The entire team fed off of his energy, burying Alabama's defense for the entire first half.

The second half was no different. Reid couldn't miss. Every pass and every play was perfectly, surgically executed, and after a bullet of a touchdown pass to JJ to open the second half, several of Clemson's offensive linemen gestured putting an imaginary crown on Reid's head, calling back to his arrogant statement from the day before. The king has come to dethrone the impostors who stole his kingdom.

For anyone who wasn't a Clemson fan, the National Championship game was a bore. A casual fan never wanted to see a blowout, especially in the most important and anticipated game of the season. But for us, it was a party, and it was enough to force myself to enjoy it. I was still a fan, and no matter what parts of me ached looking at him, I wanted this for Reid. Not only did he deserve it, but I thought maybe it would almost make up for what I put him through. After all, winning felt fucking great.

With about eight minutes left in the game, Reid barreled into the end zone for his third rushing touchdown of the night, his energy levels still cranked to overload as if he hadn't lost an ounce of stamina. When he came off the field, he held his hand up and pointed to the ring finger on his left hand, and the crowd went nuts.

It was one of the cockiest gestures you could do in sports. It meant, fit me for my championship ring, because this game is over.

Clemson won 44-12. Orange and purple confetti rained down from the sky with cheers and jubilation as guys on the team embraced and tackled each other into hugs. A few players on the sideline dumped the jug of orange Gatorade onto Coach Riley, and the rest of the team and staff began to storm the field. Reporters swarmed Reid as he and JJ embraced at midfield.

I hung back on the sideline, watching it all unfold. There was something bittersweet about it all. This would be the last time I would stand here like this, and even though we won, knowing that this was the end of something monumental made me sad.

"Come on," Mara tugged at my arm, beckoning me to join her on the field. "Let's go celebrate."

"You go on without me," I told her, smiling through the prickling sensation at the backs of my eyes. "I'll find you guys later, I just wanna...soak this in."

I did a slow lap around the field, high-fiving and congratulating a few guys as I'd pass them. The crowd seemed to fall away when I undoubtedly found him, so magnetically and so profoundly my True North. His eye black was smeared across his cheeks, from tears or sweat or a combination of both, and he offered me a soft smile.

Go on, I mouthed to him, like I always had. I looked at him like he was the only person in the entire stadium, and even though I think he looked at me the same, I hung back. I let him have the moment he deserved, and I watched him turn away in what felt like slow motion, confetti still raining down from the sky.

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emotionally i'm unwell at the thought of this truly and genuinely being almost over, but mentally i'm already starting to transition into FEEDBACK (my newest WIP) if you couldn't tell from the title of this chapter, ifykyk