The Big House on the Prairie.

[redsox907]

If buddy goes back to LV for a few weeks, Keiyana gonna show up wherever he lands plotting a murder-suicide that’ll be a true crime doc by the end of the month.

Ol girl always thought he was fucking her sister. Time to prove her right

Also shame on Book. You want to transfer, do it. Don't bitch out and not tell the staff that brought you in when no one did

Just goes to show Book ain't built like a true Gurley yet

[The JZA]

When we finally lost to Colorado, I wasted no time. I entered the portal, again in the worst way possible—filing the paperwork before telling the staff.

[Soapy]

If buddy goes back to LV for a few weeks, Keiyana gonna show up wherever he lands plotting a murder-suicide that’ll be a true crime doc by the end of the month.

Ol girl always thought he was fucking her sister. Time to prove her right

Also shame on Book. You want to transfer, do it. Don't bitch out and not tell the staff that brought you in when no one did

Just goes to show Book ain't built like a true Gurley yet

When we finally lost to Colorado, I wasted no time. I entered the portal, again in the worst way possible—filing the paperwork before telling the staff.

Book still young, you live and you learn.

[Soapy]

The Big House on the Prairie
Chapter Eight :: The Warden, Part One

My relationship with Irene had been slowly—yet somehow quickly—repaired, all thanks to a $462 paycheck Budget Rental still owed me. I always preferred cashing a check over direct deposit. Sure, it took an extra day or two, but walking into the bank, signing my name, and physically depositing the money felt rewarding. At that point in my life, pleasures were scarce, so even small ones carried weight.

When we left Las Vegas—almost like thieves in the night—my final check was already on its way to Irene’s apartment. She didn’t reach out right away, which I understood, but months later she finally did. Her text was blunt: no greeting, just that she had the check and wanted to know where to send it. I considered ignoring her, even thought about letting the money go. Truthfully, I’d forgotten about it. A day or two passed before I replied with my address and a thank-you. When the check came, I debated texting her again to let her know, but with things already unraveling between Keiyana and me, I held back.

I’m not sure what finally pushed me to reach out. Maybe it was the final collapse of things with Keiyana by the time I landed in Stillwater, or maybe some subconscious version of a twelve-step program I’d imposed on myself. Weeks later, I sent Irene a short message: thanked her again for mailing the check, and apologized for how everything had gone down. We hadn’t spoken since the incident, partly because of Keiyana's attorney’s advice, partly because I didn’t know what to say. I assumed she blamed me for all of it. I could only imagine how badly it had affected her—working in nightlife with a scar on her face couldn't have been easy, potentially career ending.

I kept the message brief but honest, hoping it carried enough sincerity to reach her. It did. She responded almost immediately, wishing me luck in my future plans and assuring me she held no hard feelings toward me. Somehow the conversation drifted to my enrollment at Oklahoma State and football. She’d check in now and then to ask how things were going, and I’d return the favor. At first it was nothing more than a handful of texts each month.

But as the semester wore on, we started talking more. I had isolated myself at Oklahoma State—partly by choice—and the loneliness hit harder than I expected. Those quick check-ins with Irene grew to mean something. I knew why I was reaching for that connection, but at first, I didn’t understand why she was, too.

In Vegas, we’d been friendly, but never close enough that I thought we’d reconnect after Keiyana assaulted her. And yet, here we were, slowly building something. Our texts turned into FaceTime calls—me pacing back to my dorm from practice, her driving to or from work. Eventually I learned she had broken up with her boyfriend and was considering moving back to Atlanta. She was in her own kind of isolation, and I think that shared sense of isolation and ending long term relationships pulled us closer.

Even then, the leap from casual reconnection to living together again, even briefly, was a big one. But I didn’t have many options—other than going back to Prairie View for a few weeks. The opening came when Irene started talking about turning her move from Vegas to Atlanta into a road trip. As a woman, she didn’t want to make the drive alone, so I offered to ride along—selfishly knowing I also needed a place to stay. To my surprise, she agreed without hesitation. She sent me the itinerary: departure date, stops, expected arrival in Atlanta. Her new apartment didn’t have a guest room, but she said I could crash on the couch and earn my keep by helping unpack and assemble her new furniture. It seemed like a fair trade to me.

[Caesar]

Book his daddy son! Plotting on the big sister of his crazy ass ex's (former prob) best friend?! I know he got that clinic fee stashed off already to yeet any fetuses.

[Captain Canada]

Fuckin' on a shordy named Irene just rubbing me the wrong way.

[djp73]

doesnt seem like this will end well

[redsox907]

soap already plotting on ending this by double murder.

First the Rico to end the MLB RTG, now a murder to end his CFB RTG

[The JZA]

Her new apartment didn’t have a guest room, but she said I could crash on the couch and earn my keep by helping unpack and assemble her new furniture. It seemed like a fair trade to me.

Give it about two weeks

[Soapy]

Book his daddy son! Plotting on the big sister of his crazy ass ex's (former prob) best friend?! I know he got that clinic fee stashed off already to yeet any fetuses.

Fuckin' on a shordy named Irene just rubbing me the wrong way.

doesnt seem like this will end well

soap already plotting on ending this by double murder.

First the Rico to end the MLB RTG, now a murder to end his CFB RTG

Her new apartment didn’t have a guest room, but she said I could crash on the couch and earn my keep by helping unpack and assemble her new furniture. It seemed like a fair trade to me.

Give it about two weeks

he just needs a place to lay his head, guys.