I'll provide the unceremonious comment of positivity, since its the holiday season. I have really been enjoying your ability to convey the many different faces of grief in the last couple of updates. The comparison and contrast has been refreshing and interesting to read.
Like I've said 100 times, I'm very intrigued as to where this will go.
I'll provide the unceremonious comment of positivity, since its the holiday season. I have really been enjoying your ability to convey the many different faces of grief in the last couple of updates. The comparison and contrast has been refreshing and interesting to read.
Like I've said 100 times, I'm very intrigued as to where this will go.
Season 5, Episode 1
The crisp January air stung Brice's face as he stepped out of his car, the restaurant's golden lights spilling onto the snow-dusted sidewalk. Brice adjusted his tie—the navy silk one Connie had given him two Christmas ago and yet felt like a lifetime had passed since.
"Mr. Colton, right on time." The maître d' greeted him. "They're waiting for you in the private room."
He nodded, following the man past tables of well-dressed diners who pretended not to notice him. A few heads turned anyway.
The private dining room was all dark wood and subdued lighting. Three men rose as he entered—Jim Atkinson, the unofficial head of Purdue's NIL collective; Dean Hargrove, an alum who'd made his fortune in pharmaceuticals; and Cesar King, a former Boilermaker who'd played five seasons in the NFL.
"There he is," Jim said, extending his hand. "The golden arm of West Lafayette!"
Brice shook their hands firmly, the way his father had taught him. "I like that. I should trademark it."
"Consider that one on the house! We ordered some appetizers," Dean gestured to the spread. "The tartare here is exceptional."
Brice settled into the empty chair, noting the place setting beside him. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"Our pleasure," Cesar said, purposefully adjusting his Submariner Date on his wrist. "Your dad’s not joining us?"
The question hung in the air for a moment.
"No," Brice replied, unfolding his napkin.
The three men exchanged glances.
"Well then," Jim said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I suppose we're dealing directly with the talent now."
"I don’t see why not," Brice shrugged, "I want to be here. I’m sure you guys want the same. I was one of the best quarterbacks in the conference last year and that’s a conference that includes Ohio State, Michigan, USC. You guys know how much a quarterback like that costs. Let’s talk like men, agree to a number and I can get back to putting in the work to bring a Big Ten title back to this motherfucker, how about that?"
Dean chuckled. "I like the sound of that."
"Now," Jim said, opening a leather portfolio, "Let's discuss the parameters of this new deal."
…
Brice swiped his key card and pushed open the door to his dorm room, exhaustion settling into his shoulders after the three-hour dinner. The deal was done, better than he'd expected.
The light was already on inside. Skylar lounged across his bed, scrolling through her phone, wearing one of his hoodies and not much else from what he could tell as her hair spilled across his pillow.
"Hey," she said, not looking up. "How was your secret meeting?"
Brice tossed his keys onto his desk, loosening his tie. "Fine. I thought you went home."
"Couldn’t bother with the drive," she finally glanced up, her eyes traveling over him slowly. "You look good in a suit."
He ignored the compliment, checking his phone. "When's your semester start again? Gotta be soon, right?"
"Few days," she shrugged, returning to her phone.
Brice hung his suit jacket carefully in the closet, buying himself time. "Don't you need to get there early? You know, move in and stuff?"
"I’m staying the same dorm," Skylar rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. "You trying to get rid of me, Colton?"
He caught the edge in her voice. "Just asking."
"I don’t even have an in-person class until the second day of the semester," she set her phone down and slid off the bed, moving toward him. "Besides, I'd rather be here."
Before he could respond, she pressed against him, her hands sliding up his chest.
"Skylar—" he started, but his objection died as her fingers worked at his tie, sliding it free.
"I missed you tonight," she whispered, unbuttoning his shirt with practiced efficiency. "All alone in this boring room."
He could push her away. Should push her away. But her mouth was warm against his skin, and the emptiness of the dorm after the holiday break suddenly felt suffocating. His hands found Skylar's waist, pulling her closer as she pushed his shirt from his shoulders. She smiled against his mouth, knowing she'd won. Again.
…
"So, how were the holidays?" Dr. Mendel asked, settling into her chair across from Connie.
"Good. Busy." Connie twisted the friendship bracelet on her wrist, a nervous habit she'd pick up on. "Eli came over for dinner. To meet my parents."
Dr. Mendel nodded, her expression open. "And how did that go?"
"Fine, I guess." Connie paused. "My mom made her noodles, which is basically her signature dish when she's trying to impress someone."
"That sounds nice."
"It was. Dad asked about Notre Dame, football, the usual stuff," Connie's fingers continued working the bracelet. "Of course, a few sneak comments about making sure we’re not rushing into anything."
"You sound frustrated by that."
Connie sighed. "It's just... I know what they’re doing. They’re scared of me making another bad decision, another bad pick like everything that happened with Brice was somehow my fault, my doing."
"He’s nothing like Brice," Connie continued. "But I also want my parents to approve of him. Is that awful? That I care so much what they think?"
Dr. Mendel leaned forward slightly. "It's not awful, Connie. Most people care what their parents think. The question is how much weight you give their opinions versus your own."
"I just want everyone to like each other," Connie said, her voice smaller now. "I want my parents to love Eli, and I want Eli to think my parents are great."
"And if they don't?"
The question hung in the air. Connie hadn't allowed herself to consider that possibility.
"I don't know," she admitted finally. "I guess I've always assumed if I found the right person, everyone would just... click."
"That's putting a lot of pressure on yourself and everyone else," Dr. Mendel observed. "What about your approval? Where does that fit into this equation?"
"My approval?"
"Yes. You're focused on your parents approving of Eli, and Eli approving of your parents. But what about your approval of them? Of how they treat each other, or you?"
Connie stared at the carpet. "I guess I never thought about it that way."
"It's worth considering," Dr. Mendel said gently. "Relationships aren't just about gaining approval from others. They're also about whether others meet your standards and needs."
"But that sounds so... selfish."
"Having standards isn't selfish, Connie. It's self-respect." Dr. Mendel's voice was kind but firm. "You've mentioned before that you sometimes feel caught between what everyone else wants."
Connie nodded, memories of the past few years flashing through her mind, the constant balancing act, the exhaustion of trying to keep everyone happy.
"When you focus solely on gaining others' approval," Dr. Mendel continued, "You can lose sight of whether they're actually meeting your needs. Whether they're good for you."
"Like Brice," Connie said quietly.
"Is that what happened with Brice?"
Connie twisted her bracelet again. "I was so focused on making it work. On making him happy."
She looked up. "I never stopped to ask if he was making me happy. If he deserved my approval."
"And Eli? Are you falling into the same pattern?"
"I don't think so," Connie said, but uncertainty crept into her voice. "Eli's different. He actually cares what I think, what I want."
"That's good," Dr. Mendel nodded. "And what do you want, Connie? Not what your parents want for you, or what Eli might want. What do you want?"
The question was simple but felt unanswerable. What did she want? Had anyone ever asked her that before? Had she ever asked herself?
"I want..." she began, then stopped, surprised by the emotion rising in her throat. "I want to stop feeling like I have to choose. Between what I want and what somebody else wants."
Dr. Mendel's eyes were kind. "That's a good place to start."
Separating himself from his parents is smart, but we know its based in distancing himself which isn't good. Cause from the way that was framed, his Dad didn't know. That's hiding, not growing.
Skylar a ho.
Connie gonna either flip shit and go back to Brice or go full nun and say no one can make her as happy as her lord and savior
Separating himself from his parents is smart, but we know its based in distancing himself which isn't good. Cause from the way that was framed, his Dad didn't know. That's hiding, not growing.
Skylar a ho.
Connie gonna either flip shit and go back to Brice or go full nun and say no one can make her as happy as her lord and savior
