At Monica, Rachel, and Haley's apartment, almost the entire group was already gathered, waiting for Andrew and Steve to return from the Rose Bowl so they could all head together to the huge party Sigma Alpha Epsilon was throwing that night.
SAE was one of UCLA's best-known and most popular fraternities, but over the course of that season it had also developed an additional source of pride.
Among the students, it was already beginning to feel almost like the unofficial fraternity of the football team, especially because, of the few parties Andrew had attended since the season began, every single one had been there.
It wasn't that Andrew went out much.
Quite the opposite.
Between games, practices, travel, classes, and the constant attention he received, he had barely shown up at two major parties all season.
Both had been hosted by Sigma Alpha Epsilon.
That had been enough for the fraternity members to start bragging about it as though it were already an established tradition.
Now he was going to attend a third, which gave them even more reason to be proud.
With a 67-17 win over USC, the South Division secured, and UCLA climbing toward the top spots in the country, no one was exactly expecting a quiet celebration.
Rachel and Haley had shut themselves inside their rooms to change. They both studied fashion and could turn choosing an outfit for a college party into a decision of the utmost importance.
Clothes were scattered across the beds, shoes lay everywhere, and comments flew back and forth whenever one of them crossed the room to ask the other about a particular piece.
In the living room, Chandler had hijacked Monica's laptop.
He had spent the past several minutes completely hunched over the screen, jumping between Twitter, sports accounts, and videos that were already beginning to appear from the game.
The social network was exploding.
UCLA had demolished USC in the biggest game of the day. Former players, journalists, students, fans of both programs, and sports accounts were posting photographs, clips of plays, and comments practically every second.
Among the trends in the United States, terms related to the game were beginning to appear:
#UCLA
#67-17
#Andrew Pritchett-Tucker
#USCDESTROYED
#Prophet Chandler
#BeatSC
#HEISMAN
Andrew's name had spent hours moving in and out of the top spots in the sports conversation. His pass from his own end zone was already circulating everywhere, along with the run where he had gone straight through the safety to reach the end zone and several screenshots of the final score.
But Chandler had another problem.
He was all over it too.
That morning, after his appearance on College GameDay, Prophet Chandler had already begun gaining momentum.
His prediction had been: UCLA 67 — USC 17.
The final score had been: UCLA 67 — USC 17.
Exact. Not a single point off.
Over the past few hours, screenshots from his interview that morning had started appearing everywhere again.
Some users were posting an image of Chandler on College GameDay, taken at the exact moment he had made his prediction, beside the final scoreboard from the Rose Bowl.
Others were sharing the postgame moment when he had appeared on the stadium's giant screen, kissing the small cross around his neck, making the sign of the cross, and then raising both arms toward the sky while thousands of fans chanted his name.
Prophet Chandler had become a nationwide trend.
Thousands of people who only a few hours earlier hadn't even known who he was were now debating, some seriously and many others not so much, whether he genuinely had some kind of divine connection to football.
Another one of the craziest things for Chandler was seeing what was happening with his own account.
Before appearing on College GameDay that morning, he had around 115,000 followers.
It was already an enormous number for someone who, essentially, ran an account focused almost exclusively on college football, UCLA, and his increasingly undisguised admiration for Andrew.
Two weeks earlier, he hadn't even been close to that.
During the game against Oregon, he had been sitting at around 60,000 followers. After the comeback, when that tweet of his reminding everyone that there were still two quarters left began circulating everywhere and his confidence ended up looking like a prophecy, his account had exploded.
In less than two weeks, he had practically doubled his audience.
Chandler had thought that would be difficult to repeat.
He had been wrong. Completely.
Just after eight at night, his follower count had already passed 270,000 and kept climbing every time he refreshed the page.
270,184.
Refresh.
270,611.
Again.
271,093.
What had happened against Oregon had been huge. This was something else. Because this time, he hadn't simply posted something optimistic before a comeback that had seemed impossible.
This time, he had somehow predicted with perfect accuracy a score no one else had even imagined.
After the game ended, still at the Rose Bowl, Chandler had posted:
@ChandlerBing:
Hallelujah!
No explanation, not even a reference to his prediction.
Twenty-five minutes later, the tweet had already accumulated more than 24,000 retweets and nearly 15,000 favorites.
💬 Tweet replies:
@uryel3i:
Never doubted my priest 🙏
@donovanmikess_s:
HE ACTUALLY GOT THE EXACT SCORE WHAT THE HELL
@thompsonLipson:
67-17. Not the winner. Not the spread. THE EXACT SCORE.
@leonastors_s:
Okay Prophet I'm listening from now on
@ilimitesjg:
this man went on national television and casually predicted the future 😭
@WestCoastFB:
I said they should put him on CollegeGameDay and I was not expecting this...
@wilsonSTEWW:
Somebody check Chandler's house for a time machine
@Erikthebig21:
@ChandlerBing tomorrow's lottery numbers please
@michaeltrojansRRS:
I hate everything about tonight
@Kylemyers1991:
They were chanting PROPHET CHANDLER in the Rose Bowl. College football is insane.
@queenabbe2:
I've always been an atheist, but Chandler fucking Bing is starting to make me believe
…
The replies to his tweet kept coming in, and there were already far too many for him to read them all. But there was another tweet that was beginning to gain attention for a completely different reason.
It had been posted by a user who had placed bets in Nevada, one of the few places in the United States where, in 2012, legal sports betting on college football was a normal part of casino sportsbooks.
He hadn't bet on Chandler's exact score prediction, something far too specific, but instead on several aggressive lines that followed practically the same logic.
@davidmadden82:
THANK YOU PROPHET! I ALWAYS BELIEVED!
The image showed three betting slips spread across a table beside a half-finished beer.
UCLA -28.5 — WIN
That meant UCLA had to win by at least twenty-nine points.
OVER 83.5 — WIN
The two teams had to combine for eighty-four points or more.
UCLA 1H -17.5 — WIN
UCLA had to finish the first half ahead by at least eighteen points.
All three had hit.
TOTAL WAGERED: $2,000
TOTAL RETURN: $13,750
In less than twenty minutes, the tweet had already accumulated more than 7,000 retweets, around 4,500 favorites, and hundreds of replies.
💬 Tweet replies:
@nicolechass2:
You put TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS on that prediction!?
@mikeelmoods:
This man heard 67-17 and said take my money
@ani-football3000:
That final field goal wasn't even necessary for most of his bets and somehow Chandler still got the exact score
@lilihearts1994:
Are you insane betting two thousand dollars!?
@ryanwespherks (replying to @lilihearts1994):
crazy or he has money to burn.
@davidmadden82 (replying to @ryanwespherks):
it was my savings. those two thousand are more than I make in a month at my waiter job.
@ryanwespherks (replying to @davidmadden82):
Forget Chandler. THIS is the craziest person in the country.
@Sarahmiller19:
Imagine explaining to your family that you risked your savings because "Prophet Chandler said so"
@tyssonhud:
34-10 at halftime must have felt like winning the lottery already
Even several betting accounts picked up the photograph of the tickets and began sharing it alongside screenshots from the College GameDay segment.
@VegasSportsTalk:
This bettor reportedly risked $2,000 across aggressive UCLA bets after hearing Prophet Chandler call a 67-17 Bruins win on College GameDay.
He cashed every ticket.
…
But not everything revolved around Chandler and his prophecy.
There were also the more normal tweets. The ones simply trying to process what had just happened in Pasadena.
@ESPNCFB:
FINAL from the Rose Bowl: No. 3 UCLA crushes No. 8 USC, 67-17. Bruins win the Pac-12 South and take back the Victory Bell for the first time since 2006.
💬 Tweet replies:
@Amelyastums:
that is not a rivalry win that's a public execution
@limyihui:
USC won 50-0 last year and UCLA really waited 12 months just to return the exact 50 point margin LOL
@anniatayss:
UCLA owns Los Angeles this year. No debate.
@harvestman_:
TEN WINS. PAC-12 SOUTH CHAMPS. HEISMAN QB. THIS SEASON IS BECOMING LEGENDARY
@kappamuchbruinsII:
Where are the Trojans? I can't see them 😂😂😂 All season long saying "wait until UCLA plays a real team" or "wait until USC" and in the end Cal gave us more of a fight XD
…
A few minutes later, SportsCenter posted a photograph of the final scoreboard still glowing above the Rose Bowl.
@SportsCenter:
REVENGE IN PASADENA.
2011: USC 50, UCLA 0
2012: UCLA 67, USC 17
@markusnvjj:
USC fans talked about 50-0 for a full year and UCLA just erased it in the funniest way possible
@Sassybonassy:
the prophecy came true 🙌 @chandlerbing
….
Bleacher Report was considerably less restrained.
@BleacherReport:
UCLA JUST DROPPED 67 ON USC 😳
67-17.
The Victory Bell is going back to Westwood.
@elliotsimons:
Pritchett woke up and chose violence
@elenawoodst:
Finally, the bell is coming home ❤️
…
CBS Sports posted a comparison between Barkley and Andrew that was not exactly flattering to USC.
@CBSSports:
QB comparison from Pasadena:
Andrew Pritchett-Tucker:
36/41, 372 pass yds, 62 rush yds, 4 TD, 0 INT
Matt Barkley:
30/43, 287 pass yds, -16 rush yds, 2 TD, 2 INT
Final: UCLA 67, USC 17.
💬 Tweet replies:
@jeremyween:
Senior vs true freshman guess which one is which...
@patriccksiddor:
Barkley never lost to UCLA before tonight. What a brutal way for the streak to end.
@troajansethernity7:
Barkley didn't give up 67 points. Defense was awful too.
@aaronrams29 (replying to @troajansethernity7):
Fair, but two interceptions vs zero matters when the other QB doesn't throw a single one
@daniisttay:
The changing of the guard in LA happened tonight
@Thehayde420 (replying to @daniisttay):
??? the Bruins passed USC weeks ago, and don't even get me started on Pritchett and Barkley, they're on two completely different levels right now
…
But Chandler had stopped checking Twitter a while ago. The television in the living room had completely captured his attention.
Baylor was playing Kansas State.
Baylor entered the game with a 4-5 record in the Big 12, unranked and far from being considered one of the best teams in the country.
On the other side was Kansas State, undefeated, number one in the BCS, with Collin Klein as one of the leading Heisman candidates, and with an almost direct path to the National Championship Game.
On paper, it did not look like one of the biggest games of the day. Almost everyone expected a comfortable Kansas State victory.
Baylor was not even in the Top 25.
And yet, nothing had gone the way it was supposed to.
Baylor won the first quarter 14-7. They went into halftime leading 28-17. Then, in the third quarter, they outright destroyed the number one team.
Baylor scored another 24 points.
Kansas State managed to answer with only seven.
Now there were less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter, and the outcome had stopped being in doubt a long time ago. Kansas State had never truly managed to recover after the blow they took in the third quarter.
In the living room, everyone was paying attention to the TV.
Ross was sitting on one end of the couch, completely leaned forward.
Monica was practically on the edge of her seat, her eyes fixed on the screen.
Chandler remained standing behind the couch, both hands resting on the backrest as he watched the final seconds.
Sam was not looking away either.
Paige was still wearing UCLA jersey with the number 19 on it and was watching the scoreboard with a level of attention that, only a few weeks earlier, even she probably would not have imagined having for a college football game between two universities that were not her own.
Leonard sat silently with his arms crossed beside Howard.
Howard, meanwhile, was extremely talkative, mocking Kansas State for making fools of themselves, completely ecstatic to see a ranked rival go down.
The final seconds disappeared.
The clock reached zero.
BAYLOR 52 — KANSAS STATE 24
"Oh my God!" Chandler exclaimed, bringing both hands to his head.
"Yes!" Monica, Leonard, and Ross shouted almost at the same time, clenching their fists.
"That's it!" Paige exclaimed.
Paige raised both hands with a smile, using considerably more volume than she normally would have expected from herself. Luckily, with Chandler, Howard, Leonard, Monica, and Ross around, no one seemed to pay much attention to it.
"HAHAHA!" Howard laughed, pointing a finger at the television. "And this team wanted to play for the national championship!"
Sam was still staring at the screen with her mouth slightly open. "I can't believe it..." she said, before a smile appeared on her face. "Steve is going to be so happy!"
UCLA desperately needed one of the two undefeated teams still ahead of them to stumble if they wanted any chance of reaching the national championship.
Notre Dame and Kansas State.
The problem was that neither of them seemed to have an especially dangerous opponent that day.
Notre Dame had faced Wake Forest and done exactly what everyone expected.
They won 38-0. No drama, no surprises.
Everything suggested Kansas State would do something similar against Baylor.
But no.
Kansas State had just lost, and it had not even been one of those upsets where the underdog survived for four quarters, needed a miracle play at the end, and escaped with an impossible victory.
Baylor had destroyed them, winning by twenty-eight points.
The team that only a few hours earlier had seemed to be heading directly toward the National Championship Game had just been crushed by an opponent with a losing record.
For UCLA, which had just humiliated USC 67-17, that completely changed the national picture. They could climb to number two, while Alabama, who had won their game, would move up to number three.
"This is huge!" Monica said, jumping to her feet.
"What happened? What happened?" Haley asked as she suddenly appeared in the hallway.
She had heard all the shouting from her room and had come out as quickly as she could.
Rachel appeared right behind her.
Monica turned toward both of them with a huge smile. "Kansas State just lost!"
Haley looked at Rachel for a second.
Rachel looked back at her.
Then they both turned toward Monica again.
"So...?" Haley asked, making a small gesture with her hand for her to continue with the important part.
Monica stared at them as if she couldn't believe that, after watching practically every UCLA game that season, they still needed someone to explain it.
"That UCLA will probably move up to number two in the country! They'd be in position to play for the national championship right now!" she replied.
There was another brief silence.
Haley and Rachel looked at each other again. This time, they smiled.
"Yay!" they exclaimed almost at the same time, raising their arms.
Monica shook her head.
Everyone then turned their attention back to the television.
The commentators looked almost as surprised as they were, though naturally they handled it with considerably more professionalism.
[This couldn't have come at a worse time for Kansas State. And for Collin Klein, we're probably looking at his worst game of the entire season,] one of them commented.
The screen changed and immediately displayed his statistics.
COLLIN KLEIN vs. BAYLOR
27/50 — 54%
286 passing yards
2 passing TD
3 INT
17 carries
39 rushing yards
1 rushing TD
325 total yards
Ross frowned. "Those statistics suck, and yet, at the same time, they don't.
Howard scoffed. "Heisman favorite my ass."
Three total touchdowns were not exactly bad.
The problem was everything else.
A 54% completion rate was a poor number for someone competing for the Heisman, especially after needing fifty attempts, and the three interceptions carried even more weight when they came alongside a twenty-eight-point loss to a team with a losing record.
Until that night, Klein had thrown only three interceptions in ten games.
Against Baylor, he had matched that total in a single game.
"One less for the Heisman," Monica said with a smile.
She turned toward Chandler. He was already smiling too.
"The path of the chosen one clears," Chandler murmured, satisfied.
Monica let out a small laugh.
Paige said nothing. She kept staring at the screen. 'Only Manziel is left...'
The thought came almost automatically. Though, to be fair, saying Klein was completely out of the race would be too much.
One loss did not erase ten excellent games or everything he had done throughout the season.
But that loss changed a lot.
Kansas State would probably drop several spots in the rankings, and its path to the BCS National Championship had practically vanished.
For Klein, losing like that in November, precisely when the Heisman race was beginning to take shape, was a huge blow.
He could still work his way back into the middle of it.
But to do that, he would need help.
Andrew would have to drop his level considerably over the few games that remained.
So would Manziel.
At that moment, the apartment door opened.
A cheerful voice, far too confident to go unnoticed, came from the entrance.
"What's up, kids?! The champions are here!"
Everyone turned at the same time.
Steve appeared first, still wearing part of his team gear and with a huge smile on his face.
Andrew came in just behind him, with a much calmer expression, a faint smile, and a bag hanging from one shoulder. 'Champions is a bit much...' he thought, but said nothing.
There was some truth to it, after all. They had won the Bell. That could count as a trophy.
"You're finally here!" Howard exclaimed.
The room immediately filled with movement.
Several people stood up at the same time, and voices began overlapping as everyone tried to congratulate them on the game, comment on some play, or simply welcome them back after a night like that.
Steve practically pushed his way through the group until he reached Sam.
She barely had time to smile before he leaned down and kissed her.
Chandler, on the other hand, stayed a little more still.
Then his eyes met Andrew's.
For the first time all day, he felt genuinely nervous.
They had talked through messages. Andrew had gotten him the tickets to the Rose Bowl.
But the last time they had seen each other face-to-face had been back in January at the high school all-star game.
Now they hadn't seen each other before College GameDay or afterward, since Andrew had been staying at the hotel with the rest of the team, focused on the game.
Andrew looked at him for a couple of seconds. Then he smiled and gave a single loud, slow clap, "Sixty-seven to seventeen..."
Chandler let out a small laugh as he scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah... pretty crazy, right?"
Andrew nodded. "Your prophetic powers are starting to get a little scary."
"The God of football sent me signs..." Chandler replied, quickly slipping back into his usual tone.
"You didn't sound that confident on the show," Paige commented from the side.
Chandler grimaced.
Paige wasn't lying.
During College GameDay, he had seriously defended the idea that UCLA could dominate the game, but he had also made it pretty clear how risky his own prediction was. He had said that if he was going to lose the title of Prophet, he wasn't planning on doing it by three points.
If he was going to be wrong, he was going to be wrong big.
Steve then turned toward Chandler with an even bigger smile, "You're our good-luck charm!"
Before Chandler could react, Steve stepped toward him and pulled him into a rough hug, accompanied by several hard slaps on the back.
Chandler accepted the hug with a laugh and returned a few pats of his own.
But Leonard quickly realized that all that happiness wasn't coming only from winning the game, "You guys already know about Kansas State, huh?" he asked with a sideways smile.
Steve pulled away from Chandler and nodded several times. "Of course! Top two, baby! We're going to the national championship!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself..." Andrew said.
Steve turned toward him.
"If we lose to Stanford, there won't be a national championship. And remember how the BCS works," Andrew added.
That lowered the excitement slightly.
Stanford was not a minor opponent. Not even close.
They had beaten USC and had just done the same to Oregon in Eugene.
They were one of those physical, patient, defensively uncomfortable teams that could turn an explosive game into something slow and ugly. Exactly the kind of opponent capable of frustrating aggressive offenses like Oregon's.
Or UCLA's.
But even winning their final two games wouldn't guarantee them anything.
The BCS could still screw them over.
If UCLA beat Stanford in the regular season and then did it again in the Pac-12 Championship, they would finish 12-1.
But Alabama could also finish 12-1.
That was where the problem came in.
The BCS combined human polls with computer rankings, strength of schedule, and other factors. A tiny margin could completely change who finished first, second, and third.
The previous year had already shown just how far something like that could go.
Alabama hadn't even won its division in 2011 and still finished second in the BCS, ahead of Oklahoma State, earning a spot against LSU in the national championship.
That was why Andrew didn't want to celebrate yet.
They could win both of their games.
They could finish 12-1 and still have Alabama edge them out by a few decimal points.
"You always have to ruin the good moments," Steve said with a grimace.
"He's just being realistic," Paige cut in before Andrew could respond. "The BCS system is bullshit. You can win all your games and still not make the national championship."
If there were three teams with perfect 13-0 records, one of them would still be left out despite having done everything right to reach the national championship.
"Are we going to the party or what?" Howard cut in, clearly much more interested in alcohol, music, girls, and a packed fraternity house after the game than in continuing to talk about the BCS.
"Wait!" Haley exclaimed as she started walking toward her room.
"We're not ready yet!" Rachel added, following her.
Both of them disappeared back into their rooms almost immediately.
Monica muttered something under her breath and shook her head. By that point, she was far too used to it.
Steve, meanwhile, turned toward Chandler. "What about you? Have you posted anything funny yet? Are USC fans crying on Twitter?"
Chandler smiled immediately. "Oh, you have to see this."
He went back to the laptop while talking. "I saved the best thing from tonight, and I just came up with a tweet about Kansas State too."
That was enough to draw almost everyone over.
Everyone except two people.
Paige and Andrew had remained in the same place as before. Their eyes finally settled on each other.
"Hi," Andrew greeted her, a different kind of smile appearing on his face.
"Hey..." Paige replied, also with a smile different from her usual one.
For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. They simply stood there looking at each other.
Andrew was the first to look away. He turned his head slightly toward the rest of the group, who were completely focused on whatever Chandler was showing them on the computer.
Then he looked back at Paige. "I'm going to drop my bag off at my apartment. Want to come with me?"
Paige nodded immediately. "Of course."
"We'll be right back," Andrew murmured toward the group.
No one seemed to hear him. Between Chandler, the laptop, and everyone talking at the same time, his voice was completely lost.
Paige murmured something similar as the two of them walked toward the door.
They stepped into the hallway and crossed only a few feet. Andrew's apartment was literally right across from theirs.
He took out his key, opened the door, and let Paige go in first.
Then he stepped in behind her and closed it.
Paige stopped barely a step away from the door and turned around.
Andrew was already looking at her.
A smile appeared on her face.
Andrew answered with one of his own, and almost at the same time, they both took a step forward.
There was no need to say anything.
Andrew placed both hands on her waist and leaned down to reach her while Paige rose slightly onto the tips of her toes and brought her hands up to his head, burying her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck.
They kissed.
This time, there wasn't much hesitation.
The kiss was intense and lasted for several seconds, as though both of them had been waiting far too long to do it again.
When they finally pulled apart, they left only a few inches between their faces.
Neither of them moved their hands away. Their breathing was slightly uneven.
Paige looked at him from up close, still smiling. "Your excuse was pretty bad," she commented.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "That's what you're focusing on?"
"Yes. Helping you with your bag?" Paige repeated. "You need help carrying a bag after tackling a two-hundred-pound guy?"
"It was the best thing I could think of to get us over here alone so we could make out. It worked, didn't it?" Andrew said with a laugh.
"Yeah," Paige replied, moving just a little closer. "It was bad, but it worked."
Andrew smiled again. He had spent several days wanting to kiss her again, and seeing her now had done absolutely nothing to help him suppress that urge.
Paige's blonde hair fell in waves around her face, she was wearing the blue UCLA jersey with his number, her nails were painted in Bruins colors, and two small number 19s had been discreetly drawn on her cheeks.
He knew she was a UCLA fan, but all of that was specifically for him.
Andrew noticed every detail.
Paige couldn't exactly say that the need was one-sided either.
Ever since the previous Saturday, she had been carrying around the urge to kiss him again.
That Saturday, they had kissed for the first time. They had ended up kissing three times that day.
During the week, they had continued seeing each other as usual between classes, messages, and a few moments together on campus, but they hadn't kissed again.
Not because they were trying to hide anything.
By that point, everyone in their close circles already knew perfectly well that they were seeing each other.
But they still weren't officially boyfriend and girlfriend.
Neither of them had much interest in suddenly becoming one of those inseparable couples who kissed in front of everyone every time they saw each other.
Paige looked at his lips again for a moment. Then she lifted her eyes. "Did it hurt?"
Andrew raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden change in her tone.
It didn't take him long to understand what she meant.
The run that had ended with the collision against the safety.
Paige still remembered the moment perfectly. Andrew had been charging toward the end zone, lowered his shoulder, and the impact had been hard enough to send both of them crashing to the turf. For a second, when she saw him go down and roll across the grass, she had genuinely been worried.
Then Andrew got back up almost immediately. And when he even went back to make sure the defender was okay and help him to his feet, Paige had been able to relax a little.
"A little," Andrew admitted. "With the adrenaline, you barely feel it, but it left a bruise near my shoulder."
"Mm..." Paige murmured, her gaze dropping toward that area almost by reflex.
Andrew watched her for a moment, amused. Then he lifted one hand, placed his fingers beneath her chin, and slowly tilted her head back up until she was looking at him again.
"Worried about me?" he asked with a small smile. "That's new."
Paige narrowed her eyes slightly. "I'm worried that you keep voluntarily running into people who weigh two hundred pounds or more."
"It was only one," Andrew corrected.
"Today," Paige corrected.
Andrew let out a small laugh.
Paige, for her part, didn't look particularly amused. "Repeated impacts in football are linked to long-term cognitive problems. It's much worse for linemen and players who take hits constantly, but that doesn't mean quarterbacks are immune."
"What a comforting fact," Andrew said.
Paige ignored the sarcasm. "I don't want you having trouble remembering things twenty years from now because you decided dodging a safety was too boring."
Andrew frowned slightly. "Boring? Why are you talking like I could've dodged him if I wanted to?"
Paige looked at him as though the answer were obvious. "Andrew, I watched you run. You changed direction, spun, accelerated between defenders, and had practically the entire goal line in front of you. You could've gone to one side, tried another cut, made him hesitate... with your athletic ability, that collision was avoidable."
Andrew opened his mouth to answer, but Paige kept looking at him with the same expression.
"Yeah, I could've avoided him," he finally admitted. "But hitting him was the most direct and safest way to get in. If he saw me change direction, he wouldn't have planted himself, and it would've been harder to beat him one-on-one."
Paige didn't answer. She just looked at him.
Andrew held that expression for a couple of seconds. Then he sighed. "That look is scarier than the defenders who tried to tackle me today."
Paige raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Fine," Andrew continued. "If I'm in a situation like that again, I'll try to avoid the hit. Spin, jump, cut, whatever. Unless the only option is to go through the guy."
That seemed to be enough.
Paige nodded.
She didn't want to become the person who took the spontaneity out of every play, much less tell him how he was supposed to play. She knew perfectly well that football involved contact and risk.
But she also knew how athletic Andrew was. If he could avoid a hit like that without sacrificing the play, why wouldn't he?
Andrew watched her for a moment. Then a smile returned to his face, "But let's say I don't listen to you."
Paige already suspected she wasn't going to like where this was going.
"And ten years from now I end up..." Andrew continued, pausing as he searched for the right word. "Cognitively destroyed."
Paige let out a small laugh despite herself.
"Would you still stay with me?" Andrew finished.
The question was clearly an exaggeration.
Even so, something about it caught Paige's attention. 'Ten years from now,' she repeated to herself.
Andrew had said it so naturally, as though imagining the two of them still together a decade later wasn't strange at all.
"Yes," Paige answered without hesitation.
"Yes?" Andrew repeated, slightly surprised by how quickly she answered.
"Yes. Besides, I don't think you could end up that bad either. You've got plenty of room before the damage manages to drag you all the way down to the average intellectual level," Paige replied.
Andrew narrowed his eyes.
Paige continued with complete seriousness. "You're smart, above average. You learn quickly, finished high school early, and can memorize an entire playbook at an abnormal speed. So you're starting with an advantage. It's not like a couple of hits are suddenly going to leave you mentally impaired."
Paige knew perfectly well that saying a career full of impacts "makes you dumber" was an oversimplification.
It didn't work like direct subtraction.
Having a high IQ also didn't mean Andrew could lose twenty points from accumulated damage and still be perfectly fine while someone with average ability had less biological margin. The brain didn't work that way.
But there was such a thing as cognitive reserve.
A person who started with higher cognitive abilities could suffer a certain amount of decline and still continue functioning within normal ranges for longer, simply because they had started from a higher level. The damage wasn't any smaller, nor was the brain better protected; it could simply take longer for the effects to become obvious from the outside.
In that sense, Andrew did have some margin.
Andrew burst out laughing. "That was incredibly offensive to almost everyone."
Paige smiled. She was about to respond when a voice came from the hallway, loud enough to carry through the door.
"Lovebirds! Let's go to the party!" Howard shouted from outside.
Almost immediately, another voice followed.
"Stop making out and move!" Steve added, laughing.
Andrew and Paige looked at each other for a second.
They were still very close.
Paige was the first to move. She leaned toward him and gave him one last kiss, brief but firm.
When she pulled away, she said, "Come on. You have to see it up close when everyone starts chanting Prophet Chandler."
Andrew nodded with a smile as they left the apartment, rejoined the rest of the group, and headed off to the party.
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