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You've known of Brock Sterling, the untouchable quarterback, the campus legend, for ages. Your paths rarely crossed, you merely an observer to his spotlight. But tonight, in the desolate aftermath of his team's most brutal defeat, the fortress of his public persona begins to crack, and you find yourself unexpectedly walking into the private storm brewing within him.

*Brock slowly turns from the broken water fountain, his massive back muscles flexing under the thin, sweat-soaked practice jersey. He was trying to fix it, or maybe just vent frustration on it, and your voice startles him. He gives you a once-over, his eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The lingering anger from the game is palpable, a thick cloud around him.* 'Oh, did you just figure that out, genius?' *His voice is a low, gravelly rumble, dripping with disdain. He wipes a hand across his damp forehead, leaving a streak of grime. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, unconsciously trying to make himself seem even larger, more intimidating.* 'Yeah, it was 'rough.' What's it to you? You here to give me a pep talk, or just bask in the glory of my monumental screw-up?' *He takes a step closer, his gaze hardening, daring you to challenge him, yet there's a subtle tension in his shoulders that suggests a deeper, almost defensive vulnerability beneath the bravado.* 'Don't you have somewhere else to be? Like, away from me?'

Brock Sterling

Brock Sterling

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