The Price brothers had always been humble people. They never bragged about their achievements, never tried to upstage anyone, and never showboated on the football field.

Therefore, it was an unusual experience for Franklin to have a room of alcohol fueled people his own age get hyped over his abilities, lifting him up in the air and screaming "state" over and over. Not that he'd complain, he didn't mind the attention, but he himself would never try to get people so hyped up over something that was still a very distant possibility, especially when he hadn't even played his first game yet.

The constant getting tossed up and down stopped when someone pointed out that the so called 'drunken idiots' that were celebrating him could drop him at any moment, and suddenly be left without a quarterback. This was pointed out to them by a small, slender girl with auburn hair and a voice so strong she could be heard over all the screaming and loud music.

Nodding understandingly at what she said, the players put Franklin down and took turns patting him on the back before turning back to their conversations and alcohol. Frank was ever so thankful, as he took the moment of no attention to escape away from the crowd. After looking for a quiet place, he found the door to the house's glass patio, where no one yet had found their way.

The patio was slightly colder than the rest of the house, as one of the sliding doors was cracked open, but it didn't bother him. Sinking down in an obnoxiously large couch, he finally found some peace. The walls of the house did a decent job of containing the music, but he could still feel the base shaking the ground as he took a sip from his beer.

"So you're the quarterback.", a voice said from behind him, making him jump up like a scared animal. Looking at the person who had spoken, he realized that it was the girl who had previously saved him from motion sickness whilst being thrown in the air.

"Yeah.", he said, and sunk back down in the couch. The girl positioned herself in the equally large couch opposite him, and began looking around for something.

"You don't look like a quarterback.", she said, finally finding the ashtray she had apparently been looking for. "Too skinny."

"You don't look like a cheerleader.", he said, but failed to follow it up with anything clever.

"I'm not a cheerleader.", she growled, lighting up a menthol cigarette. "Cheerleaders can't smoke, which is a retarded fucking rule."

"Pretty sure they can't fucking curse either.", he said, barely realizing that he was smiling.

"Whatever.", she said, blowing smoke toward him. It reminded him of his brothers behavior, at least when he was pissed. "Can I have some beer?" She stretched out her hand.

"You came out for a smoke and didn't bring anything to drink?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah.", she said, taking another drag. "Now, beer?"

"Rookie mistake." He took a sip. "And no, this is mine."

"Oh, well fuck you then." She angrily leaned back in her couch. He chuckled at her, and put the beer down on the glass table between them.

"What's your name?" He scratched his cheek, where patchy stubble had started to sprout.

"Nicole.", she said, frowning. They sat in quiet for a good thirty seconds before the buzzing of Franklin's phone broke the silence. He picked it up out of his pocket, and read the text message. It was from Brooks, one of the few players on the team that didn't seem like a complete meathead.

'Where r u?', it said. Frank shook his head and typed back. 'Spell like a human being. Patio, bring beer.'

"Beer's on the way.", he said, picking his bottle back up. "I'm Frank, by the way." Nicole looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm aware of that." Her tone was very dry, as if she thought he was stupid for saying it.

"Just being polite." The girl wasn't easily charmed, even though that wasn't really what he tried to do. Just as he was trying to figure out something else to say, Brooks tumbled in through the open door, carrying a twelve-pack of beer cans and laughing hysterically at something.

"Hey Frank.", he said between outbursts of laughter, before sitting down on the floor at the edge of the glass table, putting the beer down beside him. "A beer for our dear commander, and one for our resident loudspeaker." He picked up beers and gave them to Frank and Nicole before opening one for himself and leaning backwards on his left elbow.

"If you didn't bring beer, I might've punched you.", Nicole said as she opened the metal can with her teeth, holding it up toward Franklin for a toast.

"Cheers.", he said, touching his can against hers, and then drinking with big gulps.

It was way past nine when Eric and the other coaches finally called an end to their final meeting that week. So many routes, formations, plays and gameplans had been discussed that Eric's brain was two steps from turning into liquid. So when he finally got to leave and get in his car to drive home, there was an immediate sense of relief.

It wasn't a far drive between the football field and the Taylor residence, but he still took the car every day in case he needed to be somewhere else. The drive also helped calm him down in case he was stressed about something, which he seemed to be more and more the closer they got to the start of the season.

In the five minutes it took for him to drive home to the two-story house with a big garden he'd managed to collect himself, and could calmly walk in through the front door.

"Hello family!", he shouted as he hanged up his jacket.

"Hey hun.", Tami replied, sounding a bit distant. "Your dinner is in the microwave if you're hungry." He rolled his eyes and walked in to the living room, where his wife sat on her knees by the coffee table, with papers spread out everywhere around her notepad and a glass of wine.

"Lot of work?", he asked.

"You could say that." She picked up a paper and read a few lines, before crumbling it up and throwing it into the fireplace, which was an ever discussed subject in the family, as it lead to having no TV in the living room. "How was work?" She wrote something in the notepad, picked up her glass and turned toward him.

"Good, I guess. Just wish we wouldn't have to hold the meetings so late." He sat down in the couch and rubbed his forehead. "Where's Gracie?"

"She's in her room, watching TV." Tami took a sip of her wine and held up a post-it note to him. "Julie called, she said she had tried calling you but your phone was off." Eric nodded and picked up his phone at the same time. It was very much dead, which was his exact problem with smartphones.

"Every damn day.", he muttered. "What did Julie say?"

"Matt's firm is holding an exhibition at an artist's studio in two weeks. She wanted us to go." More wine passed from the glass and into Tami's mouth.

"Why here, in Philadelphia I mean?", Eric wondered, with a somewhat confused look on his face; Matt's company was an art dealership based out of Chicago, buying almost all of their art from local talent.

"I think it was because all the art was already here. Besides, it means we can have them over for dinner., she said, shooting him her most charming smile.

"I guess you're right about that." He grabbed her head and gave her a soft kiss, before standing up and walking toward the kitchen. "Can I get you anything, my queen?"

"Bottle!" Tami held up her glass, which was nearing empty. He smiled, and disappeared around the corner.

Before Frank had even had time to take his second beer out on the patio, the rest of the party discovered the little hideaway, and invaded it in full force, leading to Nicole disappearing in the masses. Within minutes the couches and floor were filled with football players, cheerleaders and other random high schoolers, all of them too busy being drunk to pay any real attention to him. That was, until Martinez, the running back, was in the middle of a speech that hyped up his own abilities and chose to make Frank part of it.

"And Frank here!", he said, reaching upward to grab Frank's shoulder, at the same time as he spilled some of his beer on the floor. "He's gonna light shit up through the air. Whatcha say man, like 2000 yards?" It quieted down, and everybody looked at Frank.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I can't see the future." His words seemed to cause Martinez to struggle with keeping his smile, but he pushed through and spoke again.

"He's just kidding." He laughed, people laughed with him. "Course he's gonna put up big numbers!"

"Sure man." Frank realized that it wouldn't serve any good purpose to argue with the drunk-of-his-ass, currently very full of himself running back, so he just went with it. Then he faked a yawn. "I really ought to get back home."

"Oh yeah, getting a little sleepy are we?" Steve laughed again, but by that point people had turned back to their own discussions.

"Yeah." Frank untangled himself from Steve's grip. "Gotta keep a good rhythm on my sleep, or I'll get lazy." He shot a big smile at Martinez, who seemed to soften up and held out his fist for a bump.

"Aight man, be cool.", Steve said as they bumped fists, letting Frank exit the house and property in a peaceful manner. The walk home would however be a whole other ordeal, as Collins had given him a ride there, but then promptly passed out two hours into the party. Therefore, Frank would have to walk two miles, in a less than sober state and in weather that was getting colder by the minute, as the evening was drawing close to midnight. He began contemplating calling his brother, with whom he calculated having about a 50/50 chance of getting picked up. This was since Oscar and Joanna, the girl he'd been dating for a week, had broken up that morning, putting him in a somewhat grumpy mood. Somewhere in the middle of his thoughts, a car stopped next to him, and honked once. He turned to see Nicole sit on the passenger's side of the front seat, looking at him with a blank face. A blonde woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, sat beside her, looking straight ahead.

"Want a ride?", she asked, hanging halfway out the window.

"Uh, yeah, sure." He opened the door to the back seat and climbed in, buckling his seat belt and keeping quiet. It took him a good ten seconds to realize that both of the women in the front seat were looking at him, causing him to let out a half-drunken "What?"

"Your address, numbnuts.", said the older woman, whilst Nicole rolled her eyes.

"Oh.", he said. "Bredhurst Boulevard 271. Sorry." The car started rolling, and they were silent. Not in the awkward way, but silent because they were all tired for different reasons. The first words in a few minutes were spoken when they turned left onto Bredhurst, three blocks up from Frank's house.

"I'm Kara, by the way.", the blonde said.

"Frank.", he responded. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem.", Kara said, shrugging behind the wheel. About a minute and a half later they stopped in front of the Price's bungalow, where on the front porch Oscar was sat, in the middle of a smoke cloud. A Pink Floyd song that Frank identified as Eclipse was playing from inside the house, and Oscar was drinking an Estrella Damm, one of those imported beers that was really too expensive, but still extremely good. These factors led Frank to believe that his brother was in a happy or at the very least neutral post-break up mood, rather than an angry or sad one. This was confirmed as the bottle was raised toward him as a greeting when he stepped onto the path toward the house.

"See you in school.", Nicole said quietly, to which Frank responded by nodding and smiling before resuming his walk.

"Welcome home brother.", Oscar said with a smile before standing up and giving a thanking wave to Kara, who drove of a second later. "So, who was that?"

"Nicole." Frank spoke in a quiet voice, almost as if he was embarrassed.

"That's nice.", Oscar said. Realizing that his brother wasn't quite ready for the subject, he tossed his cigarette onto the stone path and put it out with his foot before going up to and opening the door. "Wanna order some pizza?"

"Sure." Frank smiled at his brother as they entered the house, confident that everything was going to work out just fine.