The alarm went off at 5:30, same as always, but I woke up with Isabella's kiss still fresh in my mind. I'd barely slept, replaying every moment from dinner, every word she'd said.
Cameron was already up, getting dressed for his own morning workout.
"You look like you're in a good mood," he said, pulling on his gear. "How was dinner?"
"Good. Really good."
"Just good? Bro, you're grinning like an idiot."
I tried to stop smiling but couldn't. "It was nice. She's... different."
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Smart. Real. She makes me think about stuff I never thought about before."
Cameron laughed. "You got it bad, don't you?"
"I don't know what I got. But whatever it is, I like it."
By 6 AM, I was in the weight room running through my usual routine. But my mind kept drifting to Isabella, to the way she'd looked at me across the dinner table, to that moment on the beach when everything felt perfect.
Focus, I told myself. Football first. Everything else after.
Friday practice was different from the start. Coach Rivera had an intensity in his voice that meant business.
"Gentlemen, we got exactly ten days until the Serra scrimmage," he announced as we gathered around him. "That means today we find out who's ready for real competition and who needs more development time."
He gestured toward the practice field where cones and equipment were already set up in precise patterns.
"We're running one-on-ones today. Receivers versus defensive backs. No safety help, no scheme, just pure skill versus skill. This is where we separate the players from the pretenders."
My stomach jumped with nervous energy. One-on-ones were where reputations were made and broken. No hiding behind perfect play calls or scheme advantages - just you against your defender.
Tyler walked over as we headed to the practice field. "You ready for this? One-on-ones are where the real competition starts."
"Been ready."
"Good. Because Dante Johnson's been talking about getting a shot at you all week. Kid thinks you been getting hype without proving anything."
I looked across the field where Dante was stretching with the other defensive backs. He was about 5'11", lean but muscular, with quick feet and cocky body language. Our eyes met for a second and he nodded like he was ready for war.
"Let's see what all the fuss is about," I muttered.
Coach Martinez divided us into groups - first-team receivers versus first-team DBs, second-team versus second-team. I was running with the firsts now, which felt both good and pressure-filled.
"Williams, you're up first," Coach Martinez called out. "Dante's your coverage. Let's see what you both got."
I jogged to the line of scrimmage, about fifteen yards from Coach Rivera who was serving as quarterback today. Dante lined up across from me in press coverage, close enough that I could see the determination in his eyes.
"Hope you ready, Chicago," he said quietly. "This ain't practice squad speed."
"We'll see bout that," I shot back.
Coach Rivera called out the route to me: "Comeback at fifteen yards. On two."
"Set... hut... hut!"
I exploded forward with a violent hand slap that caught Dante off guard, then ripped past his outside shoulder. The power behind it surprised him - most high school receivers couldn't generate that kind of force.
At fifteen yards, I planted and broke back toward the quarterback with textbook precision. Coach Rivera's pass was right on time, and I caught it clean, turning upfield for extra yards.
"Damn," Dante muttered as we jogged back. "That hand slap was strong as hell."
"Just getting started, bro."
"Tyler, you're up next," Coach Martinez called.
I watched Tyler run a clean comeback route - solid technique, reliable hands, but nothing spectacular. Just fundamentally sound football.
"Williams, you're back up," Coach Martinez muttered to me. "Fade route to the corner. Let's see some contested catch work."
Dante was lined up tighter now, talking trash. "Aight, let's see how you handle some real press coverage. That last one was just warm-up."
"Fade route, corner of the end zone," Coach Rivera called out. "On one."
"Set... hut!"
Dante came at me with an aggressive two-handed jam, but I was ready. I hit him with a perfect swim move, bringing my left arm over his shoulder while driving past him.
"Too easy!" I called out as I accelerated upfield.
At the corner of the end zone, I looked back for the ball. Coach Rivera's throw was high and outside - exactly where it needed to be. I timed my jump perfectly, exploding off my left foot and rising above Dante's reach.
At the peak of my 42-inch vertical, I plucked the ball with my right hand only, snatching it away from Dante's helmet as he tried to contest the catch.
"One hand!" someone yelled from the sideline.
I came down with possession, planting my right foot before landing out of bounds.
"Bro, that was nasty!" Derek called out.
Dante just stared at me. "Yo, that's some lucky shit right there."
"You can't guard me," I said simply, giving him a light tap on the helmet as I jogged past.
"We'll see about that," Dante replied, but I could hear the respect in his voice now.
"Next station!" Coach Martinez called out. "Let's work some slants and quick routes."
I moved to face Marcus Thompson, a safety playing corner for the drill. He was bigger than Dante but not as quick.
"Slant route at six yards," Coach Rivera announced. "Marcus, play some tight coverage."
Marcus lined up about a yard off me, trying to find the balance between avoiding my release and being able to defend the route.
"Set... hut!"
I used a quick stutter step to freeze Marcus for a split second, then broke hard inside. The route was run with precision, and Coach Rivera delivered the ball right as I made my break.
But Marcus had good coverage - he was right there, hands all over me, trying to break up the pass.
No problem.
I caught the ball with both hands despite Marcus draped all over me, using my body to shield him from the ball. As soon as I secured it, I lowered my shoulder and powered through his tackle attempt, gaining an extra five yards.
"You sweet, Marcus!" I called out, flexing after the catch. "Gotta bring more than that!"
"Damn, Williams got some dog in him!" Tony Valdez yelled from the receivers group.
Marcus was breathing hard. "Alright, I see you got some strength. Let's try this next route."
"Post route, break at twelve," Coach Rivera called out.
"Set... hut!"
I drove upfield hard, selling the vertical route. At twelve yards, I planted my outside foot and broke toward the middle of the field. Marcus was right there in coverage, but I'd found the soft spot perfectly.
Coach Rivera's pass was slightly behind me though - I had to stop my forward momentum and come back to the ball. Marcus saw the opportunity and dove to break it up.
But I was already adjusting. I planted my right foot and spun 180 degrees in the air, rotating my entire body to face the ball while it was in flight. The catch was made with my left hand only, plucking it away from Marcus as we both crashed to the ground.
"OH SHIT!" James Patterson yelled. "He caught that backwards!"
"Bro feelin like Odell." Alex Morrison added.
Coach Martinez was shaking his head in amazement. "Williams, where did that come from?"
"Just making plays, Coach."
Marcus got up slowly, dusting himself off. "Bro, you different. That catch doesn't even make sense."
"Next rotation!" Coach Martinez called out. "Let's see some contested deep balls!"
I moved to face Brandon Torres, who was probably the best pure cover corner we had. He was about 5'10", quick feet, good instincts, and he'd been talking trash all practice.
"Aight, Chicago," Brandon said as we lined up. "I been watching you cook these other boys. Let's see what you got against some real coverage."
"Just throw it up, Coach," I called to Coach Rivera. "I'll go get it."
"Go route, twenty yards," Coach Rivera announced. "Brandon, give him your best shot."
Brandon lined up in press coverage, but slightly off - trying to avoid getting beaten by my release while still being physical.
"Set... hut!"
I used a speed release to get vertical, and Brandon was right with me step for step. His coverage was perfect - inside leverage, hands ready to contest, staying in phase.
At twenty yards, I looked back for the ball. Coach Rivera's throw was high and right between us - a true 50-50 ball that would test everything.
Brandon saw it coming and timed his jump perfectly. We went up together, both of us at maximum height, fighting for the same ball.
But I had those extra few inches from my vertical. At the peak of our jumps, I was just high enough to get my hands on the ball first. I caught it with both hands right over Brandon's face mask, then pulled it down to my chest as we both crashed to the turf.
"DAMN!" Derek yelled. "He caught it on your head, Brandon!"
Brandon got up shaking his head. "Man, that's just genetics. What can i even do."
"Good coverage though," I said, helping him up. "You was right there."
"Next one I'm getting pick," Brandon promised.
"We'll see."
Coach Rivera called out the next route: "Back shoulder fade, corner of the end zone."
This was going to be interesting. Back shoulder fades were all about timing and trust between quarterback and receiver.
"Set... hut!"
I released vertical again, with Brandon in tight coverage. At about fifteen yards, I felt him start to turn and run, expecting me to continue deep.
That's when I slammed on the brakes, stopping my forward momentum completely and coming back to the quarterback. The back shoulder technique was perfect - creating separation by changing speeds rather than direction.
Coach Rivera's throw was placed perfectly, low and behind me where only I could get it. But Brandon had great recovery speed and was diving to break up the pass.
I had to make the catch while falling backward, with Brandon's hands trying to knock the ball away. I secured it with both hands against my chest, then rolled backward to avoid his diving tackle.
"Back shoulder beautiful!" Coach Martinez called out. "That's how you run routes!"
"Yo, Coach be throwing dimes too," I said, getting up and tossing the ball back.
The one-on-ones continued for another twenty minutes. I was dominating every matchup, but each catch was different - showing different skills, different techniques, different ways to win.
A diving catch over the middle where I had to fully extend to reach an underthrown ball, snatching it with my fingertips while horizontal to the ground.
A contested catch where Dante had perfect coverage, but I out-muscled him for the ball, catching it against his back while he was looking for it.
A quick slant where I caught the ball with one hand while being jammed at the line, then stiff-armed the defender and took it for extra yards.
"Yo, this dude is different!" Marcus was saying to the other DBs. "Like, he doing shit I ain't ever seen before."
"Facts," Brandon agreed. "Bro got hands like glue and hops like a trampoline."
Tyler was watching from the sideline, and I could see him taking mental notes. His one-on-ones were solid but not spectacular - good technique, reliable hands, but nothing that made coaches stop and stare.
Derek and Alex were having similar sessions. Competent, fundamentally sound, but ordinary.
After about forty-five minutes, Coach Rivera called everyone together.
"That was outstanding work from both sides," he announced. "I saw elite competition, Division I level technique, and the kind of intensity we need against Serra."
He looked directly at me. "Williams, that was special. The contested catches, the route precision, the body control - that's college football. Hell, some of those catches would work at the next level."
The whole team was looking at me differently now. Not just as the new kid with potential, but as someone who could actually ball at an elite level.
"The level we just saw is what it takes to compete against programs like Serra," Coach Rivera continued. "They've got two defensive backs with Division I offers. They're not going to be impressed by one or two good catches. They're going to test you for sixty minutes."
As we headed to the locker room, Dante caught up to me.
"Yo, Williams. Real talk - where did all that come from?"
"What you mean?"
"I mean, you was making catches out there that looked like highlight reels. The body control, the hand-eye coordination, the strength - that ain't normal for high school."
I thought about how to answer. "Like i told you before just been working, man. Every day, trying to get better."
"Nah, it's more than that. You got something special. Like, I been playing cornerback for four years, and I ain't never had a receiver dominate me like that."
"You good though. You was right there on every play."
"Yeah, but you was just better. That's what elite looks like."
In the locker room, the energy was different. Guys were talking about individual catches, breaking down techniques, asking questions about how I'd made certain adjustments.
"Bro, that one-handed catch over my helmet was disrespectful," Brandon was saying to anyone who'd listen. "Like, I had perfect coverage and he just reached over me like I wasn't even there."
"What about that backwards catch?" Marcus added. "Dude literally spun in the air and caught it with his off hand. That's some video game stuff."
Tyler walked over as I was getting changed. "That was incredible to watch. You made it look easy out there."
"Thanks. You had some good catches too."
"Nah, be real. What you did out there was on a different level. I been playing receiver my whole life, and I ain't never seen someone dominate one-on-ones like that."
"We all got our strengths."
"For real though, watching you work made me realize I need to step my game up. You setting a standard that's making all of us better."
As I headed back to the dorm, my phone buzzed with a text from Isabella: How was practice? Still on for studying this weekend?
I smiled, typing back: Practice was really good. Probably my best day yet. And yes, definitely still on for studying.
Isabella: Can't wait to hear about it. I have a feeling you're being modest about how well it went.
Me: Maybe a little bit.
Isabella: I keep thinking about last night. Best dinner I've had in a long time.
Me: Same here.
Walking across campus, I thought about everything that had happened today. The catches, the competition, the way my teammates were looking at me now. I was playing at a level that was clearly above high school normal.
Based on what I'd shown, my skill level was probably equivalent to a solid college starter. If I had to project my statistics, I'd probably be good for around 50-60 catches, 650-700 yards, and 8-10 touchdowns at the college level - respectable numbers for a reliable receiver who could make big plays when needed.
At the high school level, those projections could translate to truly dominant numbers, but it all depended on the competition and the offense we ran.
Serra in ten days. Finals next week. Freshmen arriving soon.