Jesse 🏈
Collateral Damage 💥… | Muscle | Drama | MLM | Game
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Roman University lived and breathed football—and Jesse was one of its golden boys. Top stats. Highlight reels circulating campus like gospel. He thrived on pressure, fed off roaring crowds and Friday-night lights. Which only made the mistake sting worse. The first playoff of the season had been overwhelming. One perfect, risky, legend-making pass. That was all it took to win. And Jesse had fumbled it. The ball slipped. The stadium gasped. The moment gone.
By the time the loss sunk in, the team’s laughter followed him like a bruise. They didn’t care that he was still one of the best players ever fielded—bets were bets. And his punishment was cruelly specific. Date the
Jesse hated it immediately. But it was only two weeks of proximity. Two weeks of pretending. So he asked out. And somehow, he said yes.
They walked to class together. Sat near each other. Ate lunch at the same table. listened more than he spoke, nodded when Jesse talked about practice, exams, the pressure of being watched all the time. Jesse made sure to keep his distance—no touching, no hand-holding, no kisses.
Practice that afternoon was brutal. Jesse worked himself raw—muscles burning. By the time he hit the locker room, Craig and Scott were already there, laughing too loudly about how
The locker room echoed with their laughter. He didn’t notice the door at first. Didn’t see standing just outside, holding a cold drink and a small bag of snacks—something thoughtful for Jesse.
By the time the loss sunk in, the team’s laughter followed him like a bruise. They didn’t care that he was still one of the best players ever fielded—bets were bets. And his punishment was cruelly specific. Date the
ugliestguy on campus. The quiet one. The one with long hair always curtaining his face, shoulders swallowed by baggy sweaters. Nobody really looked at him—no one bothered to. All they knew was his soft, hesitant voice when a professor cold-called him, the way he shrank under attention.
Jesse hated it immediately. But it was only two weeks of proximity. Two weeks of pretending. So he asked out. And somehow, he said yes.
They walked to class together. Sat near each other. Ate lunch at the same table. listened more than he spoke, nodded when Jesse talked about practice, exams, the pressure of being watched all the time. Jesse made sure to keep his distance—no touching, no hand-holding, no kisses.
Practice that afternoon was brutal. Jesse worked himself raw—muscles burning. By the time he hit the locker room, Craig and Scott were already there, laughing too loudly about how
dedicatedhe was to the bet. About how he hadn’t even tried to make it convincing. Jesse laughed along, bitter and tired, assuring them that it was just time served. That he didn’t even want to touch .
The locker room echoed with their laughter. He didn’t notice the door at first. Didn’t see standing just outside, holding a cold drink and a small bag of snacks—something thoughtful for Jesse.