The first thing that struck Zane about the Tuscaloosa Riverwalk was how alive it felt. Even after another gruelling day of training camp, the pathway winding alongside the Black Warrior River buzzed with activity. Couples strolled hand in hand beneath the fading summer sun, families pushed strollers past clusters of joggers weaving effortlessly through the foot traffic, and students gathered along the water's edge, laughing loudly enough to carry across the river.
The golden light reflected off the surface of the water, casting shimmering ripples against the concrete embankment while a warm breeze softened the otherwise oppressive Alabama heat. After spending nearly every waking hour either inside the football facility or recovering from practice, simply walking outside without a whistle dictating his next movement felt strangely liberating.
He couldn't help comparing it to Syracuse. The Orange had offered plenty of things he appreciated - the city atmosphere, restaurants scattered throughout downtown, and enough places to disappear for an afternoon whenever football became overwhelming.
Still, there hadn't been much that naturally pulled the team together outside the facility. Most of his memories away from the practice field involved gathering after games with Johntay, Marie, and a handful of teammates, nursing drinks while trying to process another frustrating loss or convince themselves next week would finally be different. The social life had revolved around escaping football rather than genuinely enjoying where they lived.
Tuscaloosa already felt different. There was something about the scenery, the weather, and the energy surrounding the campus that encouraged people to actually get outside and experience it. Even after Alabama's brutal training camp, the players still seemed eager to spend time together instead of immediately retreating home.
Walking beside him were several of the teammates he'd grown closest to over the past few weeks. Keelon strolled with his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his shorts, somehow looking as relaxed as he did in the pocket during seven-on-seven drills.
Jalen carried a sports drink he had been nursing since leaving the facility, absentmindedly twisting the cap every few seconds. Shelton Sampson Jr. and Kaleb Edwards walked a few paces ahead, constantly interrupting each other with jokes that had the group laughing before anyone could even finish telling them.
For all the intensity Alabama demanded between the white lines, there was a looseness off the field that Zane hadn't necessarily expected. The competition never disappeared, but it transformed into something healthier. They could battle for targets during practice and still spend the evening walking the Riverwalk together afterward.
Conversation inevitably circled back toward training camp.
"My body's about ready to file for divorce," Shelton groaned dramatically, stretching both arms over his head.
Kaleb laughed. "You say that every camp."
"'Cause every camp be trying to kill me."
Zane chuckled before glancing toward Jalen.
"How's this one compare to last year?"
Jalen sucked his teeth loudly.
"It really wasn't anything serious under Coach DeBoer."
Keelon immediately let out a loud laugh.
"Man, stop lying."
Jalen looked over.
"What?"
"You threw up halfway through camp."
Shelton burst out laughing.
"So he did!"
Jalen rolled his eyes, clearly expecting this story to surface.
"Aight, first of all," he said while pointing accusingly at Keelon, "that wasn't the camp."
"It absolutely was."
"It wasn't."
"It was."
Jalen finally looked toward Zane, raising both hands in surrender.
"I had food poisoning."
The explanation earned an even louder chorus of laughter.
Keelon nearly doubled over.
"Convenient ass nigga."
"I'm serious."
"You just couldn't handle Coach Ballou, fuck nigga."
"I was sick!"
Zane found himself laughing along with the rest of them. It was refreshing seeing teammates willing to clown each other without anyone taking it personally. The jokes flowed naturally, bouncing from one player to another before landing somewhere completely different.
Shelton eventually nodded toward Zane.
"You ain't really got much room to laugh anyway."
Zane raised an eyebrow.
"What I do?"
Shelton smirked.
"You been crushing everything all camp. Trying to make the rest of us look bad."
Kaleb nodded emphatically.
"Facts."
"You setting unrealistic expectations."
Zane laughed, shaking his head.
"I ain't making nobody look bad."
"Nah," Shelton replied. "You definitely are."
Before Zane could answer, Keelon casually shrugged.
"It ain't his fault."
Everyone looked toward the quarterback.
"If the rest of y'all ain't up to snuff, that's on y'all."
Jalen pointed dramatically.
"See? That's franchise quarterback talk."
Keelon ignored him entirely, looking straight at Zane.
"I already know who I'm throwing the ball to all season."
A grin slowly spread across Zane's face.
He reached over, and Keelon met him halfway, the two exchanging a quick dap while the rest of the group groaned theatrically.
"There they go," Kaleb sighed. "Already planning the Heisman campaign."
"You jealous," Keelon shot back.
"I'd throw me the ball too."
"You ain't catching it."
The banter continued as they followed the Riverwalk around another gentle bend. The laughter gradually died down when Kaleb suddenly reached out, tapping both Keelon and Zane lightly on their shoulders.
"Aye."
The two turned.
Kaleb subtly nodded toward an open stretch of green space overlooking the river.
"Y'all see that?"
The entire group followed his line of sight.
A handful of sorority girls had gathered on the lawn, their phones propped up on water bottles while upbeat music faintly echoed from a portable speaker. They appeared to be filming a TikTok dance, periodically stopping to watch the recording before laughing, rearranging themselves, and trying again. Bright sundresses swayed with each movement while several nearby students looked on with amused expressions.
Kaleb's grin widened almost instantly.
"We should go introduce ourselves."
Jalen clasped both hands together dramatically before rubbing them like a cartoon villain preparing a master plan.
"Now we talking."
Shelton laughed.
"I knew that's where this was headed."
Keelon simply shook his head.
"I hate all y'all."
Kaleb ignored him.
"C'mon, man. We Alabama football players."
"There it is," Shelton laughed.
"The confidence."
"The facts," Kaleb corrected.
Zane looked from the group of girls back toward his teammates, already recognizing the mischievous expressions spreading across every one of their faces. He hadn't even finished considering whether getting involved was a good idea before Kaleb had already started walking.
Jalen immediately fell in beside him.
Shelton followed with a laugh.
Keelon sighed dramatically before throwing his hands into the air.
"If this goes bad, I'm blaming y'all."
Zane couldn't help smiling as he watched the four of them confidently march across the grass toward the sorority girls, their laughter carrying across the Riverwalk. Shaking his head to himself, he adjusted the strap of his backpack and fell in behind them, already having a feeling this interaction was going to become another story the receiver room would never let anyone forget.
***
The moment Cam stepped off the plane in Brenham, Texas, he understood why coaches insisted recruits take official visits in person instead of relying on highlight videos and polished social media posts. No amount of photographs or promotional material could have prepared him for the feeling of actually standing there.
The Texas air was warm without being suffocating, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and damp earth. It felt slower than Pennsylvania, quieter somehow. There wasn't the constant hum of traffic or the towering skyline he'd grown accustomed to seeing whenever he ventured toward Pittsburgh. Everything moved at its own pace here, and as he adjusted the strap of his backpack across his shoulder, Cam found himself slowing down with it.
His first impression of Blinn College surprised him almost immediately. He had spent the flight trying to temper his expectations, reminding himself that this wasn't Purdue. It wasn't a sprawling Big Ten campus backed by millions of dollars in television revenue, sparkling athletic facilities, and eighty-thousand-seat stadiums. This was junior college.
He had expected something far more modest, almost rundown. Instead, the campus looked remarkably well maintained. The brick buildings were clean, the sidewalks freshly edged, and towering oak trees cast broad patches of shade across neatly manicured lawns.
Students wandered casually between buildings, laughing with one another, backpacks slung over their shoulders as if they hadn't a care in the world. It looked less like the last stop for forgotten football players and more like the kind of campus that existed in movies about college life. The biggest difference wasn't the quality - it was the scale. Everything felt intimate. The buildings sat closer together, the walkways shorter, the student body smaller. There was no mistaking that he was no longer arriving at a Division I powerhouse.
That realization settled into his chest as he slowly walked through the terminal.
He wasn't a Division I football player anymore.
The thought stung harder than he wanted to admit.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel the disappointment before immediately shaking his head.
No.
That kind of thinking was exactly what had gotten him into trouble before.
He had spent too much of the previous year worrying about labels, status, and comparisons. Too much time measuring himself against everyone around him until jealousy poisoned almost every important relationship in his life. Zane's success had felt like his failure. Rebecca's disappointment had felt unbearable. Purdue had become less about developing into a football player and more about protecting an image that eventually collapsed beneath its own weight.
He wasn't going to make that mistake again.
This wasn't punishment.
It was another opportunity.
Humility wasn't something people simply talked about - it had to be practiced.
Cam adjusted the heavy duffel bag hanging from his shoulder after it began slipping down his arm, shifting the weight until it rested more comfortably against his back. The movement reminded him how different this trip felt compared to the one he'd taken to Purdue. Then, excitement had drowned out almost every other emotion. Now, excitement shared space with gratitude.
Anywhere was better than what he'd been leaving behind.
His mind betrayed him anyway.
Tom.
The name surfaced without warning.
He remembered the fear that had consumed him after Tom's death. The sleepless nights. The giant man waiting beside his mother's car outside the grocery store. The chilling certainty in the stranger's voice when he'd suggested Cam knew more than he was admitting. Even after Rasheed had assured him everything would be handled, part of Cam had never completely relaxed. Every unfamiliar face became someone worth watching. Every parking lot became somewhere to scan before stepping outside.
Leaving Pennsylvania meant leaving some of that fear behind.
He was healthy. He was alive. And he was still playing football.
Cam stopped walking for a moment and drew a long breath into his lungs before slowly letting it back out. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
One day at a time.
That was all he could control.
As he continued toward baggage claim, movement near the exit caught his attention.
Someone stood a short distance away waving enthusiastically in his direction.
Cam frowned slightly before realizing the man held a white poster board with CAM WILSON written across it in thick black marker.
The stranger broke into a light jog.
By the time he reached Cam, he was breathing hard enough to bend slightly at the waist while laughing at himself.
"My bad," he managed between breaths. "Didn't think I'd have to sprint."
Cam couldn't help smiling.
The man straightened himself, extending a hand.
"Name's Jake."
His Southern drawl was impossible to miss, every sentence rolling effortlessly off his tongue.
"I'm here to welcome you to Blinn and get you settled in."
Cam found himself noticing the accent almost as much as the words themselves. It wasn't exaggerated or theatrical the way movies often portrayed Southern speech. It sounded natural, relaxed, almost musical. He made a quiet mental note that he was probably going to hear that cadence every single day now. It would take some getting used to.
He reached forward and shook Jake's outstretched hand firmly.
"Appreciate it."
Jake grinned.
"We're excited to have you here."
Without another word, Cam handed over the duffel bag hanging from his shoulder while reaching behind himself to pull his rolling suitcase upright. Jake effortlessly slung the bag over his own shoulder before turning toward the campus exit.
"This way," he said. "We'll get you checked into the dorms first, then I'll show you around."
Cam nodded and fell into step beside him.
***
Zane sank into the corner of the leather sectional, one arm draped lazily across the backrest as he took in the atmosphere surrounding him. The upscale club tucked into the downtown district of Tuscaloosa looked nothing like anything he had expected when the guys insisted on dragging him out after another demanding week of training camp.
Before arriving in Alabama, he had imagined country bars, live music spilling onto dusty streets, and college dives filled with students shoulder-to-shoulder beneath neon beer signs. Instead, he found himself sitting in a place that looked as though someone had lifted a high-end Manhattan lounge and dropped it into the middle of the Deep South.
Rich brown leather couches wrapped around polished marble tables, warm amber lighting reflected off sleek black walls, and enormous floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city below. Every detail had been carefully designed, from the modern artwork hanging between illuminated liquor displays to the minimalist décor that somehow managed to feel expensive without being loud. It was polished. Sophisticated. If someone had blindfolded him before walking him inside, he would've guessed he was somewhere in New York long before Alabama.
Even after several weeks living in Tuscaloosa, the city continued finding ways to surprise him. It wasn't nearly as rural as he had expected when he committed. The campus buzzed with life, the downtown district had far more personality than outsiders gave it credit for, and places like this simply hadn't existed in his imagination when he'd pictured Alabama. He leaned farther back into the couch, allowing himself another slow glance around the room.
Everywhere he looked, conversations blended into music, laughter echoed between booths, and waitresses effortlessly weaved through clusters of students and young professionals carrying trays balanced expertly above their shoulders. The place possessed an effortless confidence that mirrored the football program itself.
His phone remained clutched loosely in his hand while the rest of his teammates seemed perfectly at home.
Across the section, Kaleb leaned comfortably toward a brunette whose dark curls framed an amused smile. Whatever he whispered into her ear earned an immediate fit of laughter, and she playfully punched him in the chest before lightly grabbing onto his arm to steady herself. Kaleb grinned triumphantly, clearly pleased with himself as he continued talking, his effortless charisma carrying the conversation forward.
Near the bar, Jalen wasn't doing much worse. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with a light-skinned woman wearing a fitted crop top that highlighted a remarkably toned set of abs. Their fingers remained lazily intertwined as they laughed over something neither seemed particularly interested in explaining to anyone else. Jalen caught Kaleb's eye from across the room and flashed him a knowing smile before returning his attention entirely to the woman beside him.
Zane shook his head with an amused grin.
Somehow, despite being surrounded by teammates he genuinely liked, he still felt exactly the way he had during nights out at Syracuse.
Out of place.
He had never figured out how people enjoyed environments like this. Loud music made conversation difficult, strangers constantly drifted in and out of personal space, and everyone seemed invested in presenting a version of themselves that was just a little cooler than reality. Johntay had spent nearly two years trying to convince him that clubs were good for clearing your head after losses. Marie had managed to drag him to a handful as well. Every single time, Zane eventually found himself sitting somewhere exactly like this, quietly observing while everyone else enjoyed themselves.
Maybe he simply wasn't wired for it.
His attention drifted back toward the glowing screen in his hands.
Tyson had texted him earlier in the evening with the finalized photographs from Alabama's Media Day shoot.
One after another, Zane scrolled through them.
There he was standing beneath bright studio lights with a football tucked securely beneath one arm. Another featured him staring intensely into the camera while gripping the facemask of his crimson helmet. One had him mid-stride, eyes focused somewhere beyond the photographer as though tracking an invisible deep ball.
There were dozens.
He grimaced slightly. He couldn't help thinking every pose looked a little ridiculous. He had never been someone who enjoyed staring at photographs of himself.
Football was supposed to be played, not modelled.
Still, Tyson had insisted these kinds of images mattered.
"Social media engagement leads to sponsorship opportunities that lead to dollars in your bank account, my boy."
Zane understood the logic even if he couldn't quite embrace it himself.
He was midway through another swipe when he sensed someone standing behind the couch.
Before he could turn fully, a voice drifted over his shoulder.
"A little narcissistic, don't you think?"
Zane blinked.
"What?"
The word escaped almost automatically before he cleared his throat and turned toward the speaker.
Standing behind the couch was a woman he hadn't noticed before.
Her bright green eyes immediately caught his attention, contrasting sharply against vibrant red hair that fell well past her shoulders. A knowing smirk rested comfortably across her face as she looked down toward the phone still resting in his hands.
She nodded toward the screen.
"You've got all these beautiful women standing in front of you," she said, motioning subtly toward the crowded club floor, "and the person you're checking out is yourself."
Zane stared for half a second before a quiet, breathy laugh escaped him.
"Fair enough."
He pressed the lock button on his phone and flipped it face down across his lap.
The woman watched him do it, her smile widening just slightly.
She studied him for another moment before reaching down and giving his shoulder a light, friendly pat.
"I can already tell."
Zane tilted his head.
"Tell what?"
"You're not much of a partier."
The corners of his mouth lifted.
"What gave it away?"
She laughed softly.
Without asking permission, she casually walked around the back of the sectional before dropping onto the empty cushion beside him. She settled comfortably into the leather seat, crossing one leg over the other while glancing briefly around the room as though confirming her observation.
"I mean, you and your teammates have been here for what," she said, contemplating the time in her head, moving it side to side. "hours?"
"Something like that."
"You haven't danced."
"Nope."
"You haven't gone to the bar."
"Nope."
"You haven't tried talking to anybody."
"Nope."
She nodded triumphantly.
"And you've spent most of the night looking at football pictures."
Zane laughed again.
"I mean, when you say it like that, it sounds-"
"It sounds pretty sad."
He couldn't argue with her there.
She leaned back against the couch for a moment, quietly watching the room alongside him. For several comfortable seconds, neither of them spoke. The silence didn't feel awkward. If anything, it felt surprisingly natural amidst the chaos surrounding them.
Then she turned toward him again.
Her green eyes locked onto his.
This time her voice softened enough that he instinctively leaned a little closer just to hear her over the music.
"You know why I came over here?"
Zane shook his head.
She held his gaze for another long moment before smiling.
"You're the only person here who doesn't bore me."
