A Frat Row was, basically, a street or small area near campus where many of the houses belonging to college fraternities and sororities were concentrated.
UCLA, of course, had its own.
Several Greek houses were spread across only a few blocks, close enough to one another that on weekends the music from one party could blend perfectly with the next.
Among the best-known fraternities on campus was Sigma Alpha Epsilon.
That Saturday, they had a party planned.
It was nothing extraordinary. There was always some excuse to fill the house on Saturdays, and even more so that season. UCLA kept winning games, climbing the rankings, and making every football weekend feel a little more important than the last.
But that Saturday was different.
Facing the Ducks in Eugene.
The toughest game of the season.
Tyler, the fraternity president, Mason, his vice president, Ethan, and several of the other members had been getting everything ready since early that morning.
A giant television, food, cases of beer, and tables moved aside to create more space.
The backyard prepared.
Sound systems waiting for after the game.
They had even bought considerably more alcohol than usual because, in the best-case scenario, UCLA could return from Oregon after earning a victory that would completely change the season.
There was hope.
The team was playing too well not to have any.
Many had spent the entire week saying that this could be the game where UCLA finally made a statement and forced the rest of the country to take them completely seriously.
By kickoff, there were already more than seventy students spread throughout the living room, adjoining rooms, and part of the backyard.
Those were only the people who had come to watch the game. The real party would come afterward. But the first half managed to destroy a good portion of those plans.
Down by thirty-seven points.
By the time halftime arrived, the house felt completely different.
Several empty bottles rested on the tables.
Some students remained sunk into the couches with expressions of absolute frustration.
Others muttered curses every time a replay appeared.
A couple had already stopped looking directly at the television and were talking among themselves about anything else as long as they did not have to think about the score.
It was a particularly strange silence considering there were dozens of college students gathered in a fraternity house and many of them already had several beers in them.
Tyler remained seated on one of the couches. He did not have much to say.
No one did.
The party still existed, of course.
Even if UCLA ended up losing by forty, more people would arrive later, the music would go up, someone would open another beer, and eventually the game would turn into a subject everyone avoided mentioning.
But it was going to be a very different night from the one they had imagined.
When the third quarter began, no one turned off the television.
They could be angry or think the game was over. But they were not that kind of fans.
They had spent the entire season watching the team.
They were not going to walk away precisely when things became horrible.
But in the third quarter, the team completely flipped a switch. They scored a touchdown in less than thirty seconds, and the offense did not slow down.
The defense also began to respond.
The conversations started to disappear. Those who had been looking at their phones raised their heads again.
Some came back from the kitchen.
Others moved a little closer to the television.
By the time the third quarter ended, that same house that forty minutes earlier had looked like it was holding a funeral was completely focused.
At the end of the third quarter, UCLA had managed to cut the difference to only two touchdowns.
There was still an entire quarter left.
Tyler was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Mason remained standing behind the couch. No one seemed particularly interested anymore in the beers sitting in front of them.
Now there was a possibility.
During the final quarter, the tension ended up taking over the entire house. Every possession brought UCLA closer.
Every Oregon answer seemed determined to bring back that feeling that the game was still out of reach.
Even so, UCLA kept closing the gap.
In the final seconds, UCLA managed to tie the game.
The house exploded.
Seventy people suddenly seemed to turn into two hundred.
Tyler jumped off the couch.
Mason ended up hugging him from the side.
Someone spilled a beer onto the floor without even realizing it.
Another student climbed directly onto a table while shouting at the television.
One girl hugged another she had probably met for the first time that very afternoon.
Then someone started shouting, "UCLA! UCLA! UCLA!"
And the entire house joined in.
The game still was not over.
The euphoria barely lasted a few seconds before turning back into tension when overtime began.
First, a field goal from each side.
Then Oregon managed to get only three points again in the second overtime.
Then came UCLA's possession, when Andrew scrambled away and, with an improvised left-handed pass, managed to score a touchdown.
For a fraction of a second, there was a strange silence.
Exactly the amount of time it took everyone to confirm that Rice had actually crossed the line.
Then the house practically collapsed.
One completely drunk guy grabbed his own white shirt by the collar and managed to tear it while screaming as if he had personally just won the Rose Bowl.
Others simply jumped around while hugging each other.
There were people constantly raising their fists, shouting, and cups flying through the air.
Tyler ended up trapped between Mason and Ethan, all three of them practically yelling over one another.
The celebration did not stay inside Sigma Alpha Epsilon.
The front door burst open.
Several students ran out onto the porch celebrating, and immediately discovered they were not the only ones.
All along the street, doors from other fraternity houses had started opening.
Students poured out into the yards.
Others appeared on balconies.
Shouts could be heard coming from several different houses.
Someone from a nearby fraternity ran toward them with his arms raised and ended up hugging two SAE guys as if they had been lifelong friends.
For a few minutes, the Greek letters on the fronts of the houses stopped mattering.
They were UCLA. That was what mattered.
The party they had planned was still happening. But it was no longer the same party.
If UCLA had lost after that first half, they would have drunk anyway.
Eventually, everyone would have found a way to have fun while avoiding talking too much about the game.
Not now.
Now they had a reason.
They had just watched their team pull off the greatest comeback in college football history.
The hours started to pass, and the house kept getting more and more crowded.
By ten at night, there were already more than three hundred people spread throughout Sigma Alpha Epsilon.
Near midnight, the number was well over four hundred.
Not all of them inside the house, of course.
There were people on the porch, in the backyard, around the entrance, and on the sidewalk. Groups constantly coming and going, students showing up from other nearby parties, and others who simply arrived because they had heard which house had the best atmosphere that night.
Nothing too unusual for Frat Row.
What really mattered started around twelve-thirty.
The players began arriving.
Not all together.
Some showed up in small groups, others twenty minutes later, others directly with friends or girlfriends.
But they were coming.
Tyler could not help feeling proud.
As SAE president, he had spent the entire season enjoying the fact that his house had somehow become one of the fraternities associated with the football team.
It had all started after UCLA's season opener in September.
That night, Andrew had shown up at the party. And he had not come alone.
Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez had ended up there too.
People had talked about that night on campus for weeks.
Photos.
Stories.
People swearing they had spoken with Justin for a few minutes.
From that point on, SAE had established itself as one of the houses where the players tended to show up after important games.
Although Andrew was a different story.
Since that first party, he had only gone to two more in over eight weeks.
Three in total, counting the one after the opener.
By then, the entire campus already knew he was not particularly into partying.
During the season, he seemed to have a level of discipline that was almost impossible for an eighteen-year-old with that level of fame.
That made the news spread much faster whenever he actually did show up at a party.
Most of the players received applause when they arrived.
The starters got cheers.
Steve practically received an ovation. For two reasons.
The first was obvious.
He had caught the game-winning touchdown.
On top of that, as a freshman himself, he was having an excellent season, and that night had finished putting his name everywhere.
The second reason was a little more indirect.
If Steve was there, the chances of Andrew showing up increased considerably.
Tyler made his way over to where his group was.
Steve had arrived with Sam, and around them were several of the faces who were practically always seen near Andrew: Leonard, Howard, Monica, and Rachel.
"Great game, dude!" Tyler shouted over the music, holding out his hand.
Steve turned and smiled when he recognized him.
They shook hands and ended up bumping shoulders in that typical half-hug that barely lasted a second.
"I know," Steve replied, still smiling, "It was crazy."
At that point, calling it a great game almost seemed like an understatement.
Tyler talked with him for a couple of minutes, although having any kind of conversation inside that house practically required shouting at each other from twelve inches away.
Finally, he got to the question he had been waiting to ask ever since he saw him walk in.
"Is Andrew coming?"
Steve laughed. Clearly, it was not the first time someone had asked him that that night.
He pulled out his phone, quickly checked the screen, and then looked back at Tyler.
"Yeah," Steve replied, "The monk finally decided to attend another party. He's on his way."
Tyler smiled immediately.
He turned toward Mason, who was watching, but because of the distance had not heard much of their conversation.
Tyler walked over to him and shouted almost directly into his ear, "Andrew is coming!"
Mason smiled and took off, crossing the living room until he reached the platform where they had set up the sound equipment. He signaled to the guy controlling it.
The music began to lower.
Several people immediately protested.
Mason grabbed the microphone, "Hey! Hey!"
The conversations gradually began to die down.
Hundreds of faces started turning toward him.
Mason waited only a few seconds. Then he smiled, "I just received some inside information," he said.
He let the suspense hang for a few seconds before adding, "Pritchett is coming here."
The living room exploded into cheers, applause, and raised cups.
The music went back up, and the news began to spread beyond the house.
First came the messages.
Andrew is coming to SAE.
Then texts sent to friends who were at other fraternities.
Group chats and people stepping out onto the porch to call someone.
Within minutes, students several blocks away began finding out.
At around 1:15 in the morning, Andrew finally parked.
He and Haley got out of the car. They had been forced to leave it pretty far away.
There was not a single free spot anywhere near Frat Row, and the closer they got, the more obvious the sheer size the party had reached became.
The music could be heard from half a block away.
Andrew closed the car door and stood there for a second, looking toward the house.
Haley noticed his expression and smiled, "Get ready."
Andrew slowly let out a breath.
It was not fear.
It was more like trying to recharge his entire social battery in the thirty seconds he had left before going inside.
They started walking. They were not the only ones.
Entire groups were heading in the same direction, some carrying cases of beer, others simply shouting over one another as they followed the music.
A huge number of them were wearing UCLA gear.
Among them, one number stood out more than any other: 19.
More than half of the people wearing Bruins jerseys had his number on the back.
People began recognizing him. It was not particularly difficult.
His height made him stand out, and having just spent more than four hours appearing on national television, with ABC showing close-ups of his face after practically every important possession, did not help.
For anyone who had watched the game, his face was still pretty fresh in their memory.
A guy walking a few yards ahead of them casually turned around. He stopped and said, impressed, "Holy shit…"
He lightly tapped the arm of the girl walking beside him and discreetly nodded his head.
She looked over, her eyes widened, and that was enough, "ANDREW!"
Several heads turned. Then more.
'Here we go,' Andrew thought as he raised a hand in greeting.
That confirmed any remaining doubt.
The shouting began spreading as they approached the house.
By the time they reached the porch, there was no longer any possibility of maintaining even the slightest bit of discretion.
Luckily for him, Tyler and several fraternity members seemed to have been waiting for his arrival.
That kept him from having to make his way alone through a porch completely packed with students who were already starting to move toward him.
"Move, move! Let him through!" Mason shouted as he tried to reach the entrance.
Andrew moved through them, receiving pats on the back, extended fists, and hands trying to shake his.
People shouted things at him that he could barely hear over the music.
"THIRTY-SEVEN, BABY!"
"You saved my night!"
"GREAT GAME!"
Andrew raised a hand again, bumped several fists as he went, and thanked people as best he could without stopping for too long.
Haley followed behind him, absolutely delighted by the situation.
Finally, they crossed the threshold.
For the first few yards inside the house, things were a little easier.
Until they reached the main room.
Then someone saw him, and everything started all over again.
News that Andrew was coming had been circulating for several minutes, but knowing it was one thing and actually seeing him appear through the crowd was another.
The reaction was immediate.
The players who had arrived earlier had already received genuine ovations.
The starters were being treated like heroes.
Steve had gotten one of the biggest welcomes of the night.
But with Andrew, it was different.
Inevitably.
He was the quarterback and stronger than ever as a Heisman candidate after tonight. On top of that, he was hardly some unknown who had only become famous that season.
Someone started it from somewhere near the center of the room.
"HEIS-MAN!"
Another voice answered.
"HEIS-MAN!"
Then there were dozens.
Then hundreds.
"HEIS-MAN! HEIS-MAN! HEIS-MAN!"
The chant completely filled the house.
Andrew stopped.
For the first time since he had entered, he seemed unsure of exactly what to do.
A slightly embarrassed smile appeared on his face.
He raised a hand in thanks.
That only made them shout even louder.
"HEIS-MAN! HEIS-MAN! HEIS-MAN!"
Andrew gently shook his head, still smiling.
He had spent a good part of the afternoon listening to nearly sixty thousand people in Eugene mockingly chant Heisman at him.
Now it was the complete opposite.
'I haven't even won it yet…' he thought.
Andrew and Haley finally managed to reach where Steve, Leonard, and the others were.
Howard was the first to throw himself at him.
He hugged him far too tightly and shouted something directly into his ear that made Andrew smile.
"He's already drunk," Leonard explained with a smile, "But great game."
Andrew laughed, "Thanks."
He pulled him into a hug as well and gave him a couple of pats on the back.
By that point, he had completely lost count of how many he had received that night.
Leonard accepted the hug with a smile and, when they separated, adjusted his glasses again on the bridge of his nose.
That was when he noticed, once again, the number of eyes directed toward them.
People walking by and slowing down.
Groups watching from farther away.
Phones occasionally being raised.
He was used to it by now. More or less.
Monica remained a little farther back. Strangely still. Almost as if she were waiting for her turn.
Andrew looked at her. He knew perfectly well how she experienced the games.
If she had suffered watching less difficult matchups, he did not want to imagine what she had gone through that night.
So he simply opened one arm toward her.
Monica did not need a second invitation. She stepped closer and hugged him tightly, "The left-handed pass was insane! I'd like to see Klein or Manziel do that!"
Andrew let out a small laugh as she kept mentioning plays, decisions, and moments from the game as if she needed to get all of them out before letting him go.
Finally, they separated.
Rachel was waiting beside her. With her, it was different.
Rachel had not followed his channel for years like Monica had, nor did she live through every UCLA game as if she actually studied there.
Even so, she smiled when she saw him, "I think you took a few years off our lives tonight," Rachel commented.
Andrew smiled too, "Sorry. I'll try not to do that in the next few games."
Rachel gave him a small, friendly punch on the shoulder, "It was worth it. And the trip."
Tyler was the president of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity, one of the oldest and largest fraternities in the United States, with a presence on more than two hundred campuses around the country.
Mason, the fraternity's vice president.
Ethan, another important member of the fraternity.
Then, finally, Andrew's eyes went to Paige.
She was standing a few steps farther back, holding a cup in one hand and watching him with a small smile.
Andrew walked over, "Hey."
"Hey," Paige repeated.
He briefly looked around, "You weren't lying when you said there were like five hundred people."
"I think I underestimated it," Paige said as she moved closer.
For no other reason than the need to be able to hear him without having to shout every word.
"Great game," she added, "Very exciting."
Andrew exhaled through his nose, "Yeah. Luckily we won. It would've been pretty sad if the first game you traveled to watch us ended with us getting humiliated by forty points," he commented.
Paige laughed, "What matters is that everything worked out."
The night continued.
Andrew spent almost the entire time near his group, although having a normal conversation inside that house was practically impossible.
The music was too loud.
There were too many people and, above all, too many people kept approaching him.
Every few minutes, someone new appeared.
A photo.
A handshake.
A shout about some play from the game.
Someone wanting to tell him that Taylor Swift had tweeted about him again.
Another saying that Justin Bieber had tweeted on the game too. And naturally, an almost endless number of offers for beer.
Andrew turned every single one down.
After four quarters, two overtimes, and several hits he was definitely going to feel much more when he woke up, the last thing he needed was to add a hangover on top of it.
"Here. It's water."
Andrew turned his head.
Paige was holding out her cup.
Andrew accepted it immediately. Finally, someone had realized that what they needed to offer him was water, "Thanks."
"Where did you get water?" Andrew asked after taking a sip.
Paige gave a slight shrug, "I have my methods."
Andrew raised an eyebrow.
"I found a faucet and stole some ice from what they were using for the alcohol," Paige admitted after a few seconds.
Andrew laughed, and time kept passing. It had already been almost an hour since he arrived.
Enough.
He had no intention of leaving yet, but he felt like he had already fulfilled a good part of his social obligations for the night.
Andrew looked at Paige. He leaned in until he was next to her ear, "Want to play the chess rematch?"
Paige pulled back slightly to look at him, "Now? Where?" she asked, surprised by the suggestion.
Andrew smiled, "I have my methods," he replied.
Paige watched him for a second. Then that small competitive expression he already knew quite well appeared on her face.
"Fine. Show me," she replied, "It's about time you stopped being such a chicken so I can beat you."
Andrew motioned with his head for her to follow him.
They made their way through the crowd until they found Tyler.
Andrew tapped him on the shoulder.
Tyler turned around and, when he saw who it was, immediately smiled, "What's up, Heisman?"
By that point, Andrew had heard that word so many times throughout the night that he had already stopped trying to correct anyone.
He leaned closer to speak near his ear, "Do you guys have a chessboard? And maybe a room upstairs we can use for a while."
The second floor of the house was practically off-limits that night. With that many people coming and going, the fraternity members did not want hundreds of strangers wandering through bedrooms and private spaces. Only SAE brothers and people they personally gave permission to were allowed upstairs.
Andrew figured there had to be a chessboard somewhere, maybe in a small lounge, office, or room they used for meetings.
Tyler stared at him for a couple of seconds.
That was, without a doubt, one of the last requests he had expected to get from Andrew during the biggest party they had thrown in months, especially after that victory.
Then his eyes went to Paige. Then back to Andrew.
A slow smile appeared on his face.
Andrew knew Tyler had understood something completely different.
But before he could clarify anything, Tyler nodded with complete understanding, "Yeah. Follow me."
He turned around and began clearing a path toward the stairs.
Paige looked first at Tyler. Then at Andrew and finally seemed to understand as well. An amused smile appeared on her face.
Andrew let out a sigh.
"Come on," Paige said, giving Andrew a light push, "Let him think whatever he wants. I'm still going to beat you at chess."
The two of them started following Tyler.
Rachel had seen perfectly well as Andrew and Paige walked away together.
She said nothing.
She simply watched as they disappeared into the crowd on their way toward the stairs.
A little while later, Monica turned her head and found her friend standing strangely still, staring toward a part of the room where there was no longer anything in particular to see.
She followed the direction of her gaze.
"What's wrong?"
Rachel took a second to answer, "Andrew and Paige went upstairs alone..."
Then she let out a sigh that sounded almost like a small defeat.
Monica looked at her and immediately understood.
It wasn't too difficult, either.
The entire group already knew that, during the Halloween festival, Andrew and Paige had ended up alone at his apartment watching movies until fairly late.
Naturally, that had led to several days of comments.
Howard had been especially unbearable.
He had even gone as far as saying that Andrew seemed to have a pretty clearly defined type when it came to girls, a comment that had sparked a discussion much longer than necessary.
Monica placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder, "I thought we already talked about this."
Rachel made a small grimace, "I know."
"Then you have to start letting it go," Monica said.
Rachel didn't answer.
Monica softened her tone a little, "Nothing ever happened between you two. And I'm not saying that to be cruel. I just... don't want you to keep waiting for something that might never happen while ignoring all the guys who are actually trying to get closer to you."
When they had arrived in Los Angeles, Monica had thought differently.
Back then, she had even encouraged her.
If Rachel really felt there was something with Andrew, maybe the best thing was to get closer little by little. First become someone important in his life. Be there, talk to him, spend time together.
Because Rachel had a pretty obvious problem when it came to men.
She was too used to them making the first move.
She waited, and with Andrew, that hadn't worked.
Rachel had fully integrated into the group.
She talked with him a lot, they laughed together, and she went to his games.
But always as friends.
The more time passed, the clearer it became to Monica that, if Rachel wanted something different, she would have to be the one to take some kind of step.
She didn't seem willing to do that.
Meanwhile, Paige had started getting closer. Not in any exaggerated way, but she was still making more progress than Rachel had managed in a longer amount of time.
And, of course, Andrew seemed interested in her too.
"There are guys interested in you," Monica continued, "Guys who actually ask you out. You don't have to automatically turn them down just because part of you is still thinking about Andrew."
Rachel slowly let out a breath, "I know."
The difficult part was that a significant part of that whole crazy decision to move from New York to Los Angeles had started precisely because of Andrew.
Because of that gut feeling she had after Texas.
But she couldn't exactly say it had been a mistake, either. Not even close.
She wasn't heartbroken.
There had never been a relationship.
Not even a kiss she now had to get over.
Just a possibility that seemed to be fading away, while at the same time, her life in Los Angeles had turned out much better than she had expected.
She was studying.
For the first time, she felt like she was truly living independently.
She shared an apartment with Monica and Haley.
She had friends. She liked the city: the weather, the fashion, and the feeling that something different happened every week.
Even football had ended up becoming part of her routine. Going to tailgates at the Rose Bowl, group discussions, being in the stands...
Andrew included. Even if nothing ever happened between them.
"You're right," Rachel finally said.
She wasn't going to abandon the fashion program she had gotten into or her new life because of this.
She just had to accept that the gut feeling that had brought her all the way to California perhaps hadn't meant exactly what she had imagined, and move on.
…
Tyler opened a door on the second floor, turned on the lights, and gestured for Andrew and Paige to go in.
They both entered curiously.
The room turned out to be a fairly spacious office. There was a desk against one wall, a few armchairs, shelves, and a coffee table in the center.
Tyler went straight to one of the cabinets, opened a small door, and pulled out a surprisingly elegant chessboard.
Andrew raised an eyebrow.
He hadn't expected to find something like that in a fraternity house.
Tyler placed the board on the table, "Here you go."
Then he looked first at Andrew and then at Paige, "You can play... chess."
The way he pronounced the last word made it pretty clear that he didn't believe that explanation very much.
Tyler pulled out a key and handed it to him, "You can lock the door if you want. Just give it back to me later."
And, with a knowing smile, he left the room.
The door closed.
Paige stood there for a few seconds looking at it. Then she slowly turned toward Andrew, "I think, I think, he doesn't believe we're going to play chess."
"I think so too, but we are, and I'm going to give you a masterclass," Andrew said.
Paige raised both eyebrows, "A lot of confidence for someone who's minutes away from losing," she replied.
She sat down in front of the table and started arranging the pieces.
Andrew took the seat opposite her.
The score between them was tied.
That game would finally break the tie.
Unlike the noise dominating the floor below, inside the office everything became strangely quiet.
The music still came through muffled by the floor and walls, but neither of them talked much.
They took it seriously.
At first, the game was fairly even.
But little by little, Paige began to gain the advantage.
Andrew had to start retreating.
Paige noticed it immediately. Andrew was good. But tonight, he wasn't playing at his usual level.
She knew his level well enough by now. They had played games where she had needed to think for several minutes before finding a way out, and others where Andrew had punished her immediately for the smallest mistake.
Now he was slow and erratic.
Paige didn't need much imagination to understand why. It was past two in the morning, and he had had a very long day.
He was probably running on pure willpower.
Andrew also realized how the game was developing.
With fewer pieces and an increasingly uncomfortable position, he stopped trying to attack.
He closed himself off and started playing purely defensively.
That managed to extend the game considerably.
But it didn't change its direction.
'This isn't looking good...' Andrew thought.
He studied the board for a few seconds.
Then he looked up, "Draw?"
Paige blinked.
In chess, a game didn't necessarily have to end with someone being checkmated.
The players could agree to a draw at any moment.
One offered a draw.
The other accepted.
It was common when the position was so closed or balanced that neither player had any real chance of breaking through, or when continuing would only mean dragging out a practically dead game forever.
That wasn't exactly what was happening here.
The board wasn't balanced.
Paige had the advantage.
Andrew was simply tired, playing defensively, and hoping he might be able to turn a probable loss into a draw before making the final mistake.
But he expected an answer like: Not in your dreams. Or maybe a satisfied smile before she forced him to keep suffering for another twenty minutes.
Paige looked at the board. Then she looked at him, "Fine. Draw," she finally said.
Andrew took a second to react, "Seriously?"
Paige frowned slightly, "Do you want it or not?"
"Yes. Yeah. I definitely want it," Andrew said quickly before she could change her mind.
Paige extended her hand over the board.
Andrew shook it.
Game over.
The score between them remained exactly the same.
Andrew leaned back in the armchair and let out an almost satisfied smile at the result.
He had survived.
Paige started picking up some of the pieces, "Don't make that face. I just spared your life."
"What I'm hearing is that you couldn't beat me," Andrew said.
Paige was about to say something else, but then she took a better look at his face.
The exhaustion was still there.
"Another one? But quick. No turning every game into a forty-minute war," Paige said.
"Speed chess?"
"Yeah, and no keeping score," Paige nodded.
Andrew agreed. That sounded better. They reset the pieces.
This time, it was completely different. No endless silences, no studying the board as if they were playing in a world championship. They moved quickly, took risks, and commented on the plays.
Paige won that game, and they started another one that Andrew managed to win.
They started another, and then another.
By that point, they had almost stopped playing to win.
They still wanted to, of course.
Neither of them exactly had the kind of personality that allowed them to stop competing completely.
But it no longer mattered as much.
Andrew finally checked the time.
3:00 AM.
"Enough chess for today," Andrew said.
"Definitely," Paige replied.
She let out a small sigh and, with the tip of her index finger, pushed her king over until it fell onto the board.
Andrew smiled.
Then he looked toward the glass door leading to the office's small balcony, "Want to go get some air?"
Paige followed his gaze and nodded.
They both stood up, crossed the room, and stepped outside.
The cool early-morning air felt pretty pleasant after so many hours indoors.
"Everything's a lot quieter..." Paige commented as she rested her forearms on the railing.
Andrew stood beside her.
It definitely was.
There was practically nothing left of the chaos they had seen around midnight and one in the morning.
The fraternities had to keep their own parties under control, and with patrols regularly driving through the area, no one wanted to keep a hundred drunk college students shouting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.
Starting around two, a good portion of the casual guests had begun to leave.
The groups occupying the porch and yard had gradually been forced either inside or to move along.
The street had emptied out.
Music could still be heard from several houses, including the one beneath them, but now it seemed much more contained.
Andrew rested his elbows on the railing and watched the scattered lights of Frat Row for a few seconds.
Then he turned slightly toward Paige, "So, what was it like experiencing a game in enemy territory?" he asked.
Paige made a thoughtful expression, "The tailgating was good. So was the entrance. And I have to admit, the duck riding into the stadium on a motorcycle was... quite an experience."
"Although the first half was horrible," she added, looking toward the street.
"Was it really that bad from the stands?" Andrew asked.
"Imagine a funeral," Paige said.
"Wow, that's dramatic," Andrew said with a small smile.
"I'm not finished," Paige said, looking at him, "A funeral where you're related to the dead person and there are fifty thousand people around you celebrating that they died."
Andrew couldn't help laughing, "That's a pretty good way to put it into words."
Paige smiled slightly too, although the expression quickly disappeared as she remembered those first two hours, "Our section was completely dead. Nobody knew what to say. The worst part was that Oregon kept scoring, so every time we thought it couldn't get any worse, it got worse."
She paused for a few seconds and added, "And we thought the last two quarters might end up being even worse."
"You too?" Andrew asked, looking at her.
Paige held his gaze for a second. Then she nodded, "Yeah."
She didn't add that, during halftime, she had already started thinking about what she could say to him when the game ended.
Something that wouldn't sound like pity.
Something that might make him feel even slightly better after a loss like that.
At that moment, the idea that UCLA could come back had not even seemed like a possibility in her mind, or in anyone else's.
Andrew put on an exaggeratedly wounded expression, "Wow, you thought I was already dead. You had so little faith in me."
Paige started to smile, "Come on," she said, giving him a small nudge with her elbow, "You said it yourself after the game: 'They had us in the first half, not gonna lie.'"
During the postgame interview, that had been his answer to one of the first questions.
It hadn't been false modesty. Oregon really had them.
"You're right," Andrew finally muttered.
He couldn't blame anyone for thinking the game was over when even they themselves had needed a few minutes in the locker room to pull themselves together.
Nobody expected a comeback like that.
After that, they fell silent again. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Then something caught both of their attention.
A short distance away, a guy and a girl were walking.
They couldn't hear what they were saying, but they seemed to be arguing in that way that clearly wasn't a serious argument.
The girl stepped away, laughing.
The guy went after her.
She moved away again.
He eventually caught up to her and grabbed her around the waist.
A second later, they were kissing in the middle of the sidewalk as if the rest of Frat Row had stopped existing.
Paige watched them.
Andrew did too.
They both looked ridiculously happy.
Clingy, even.
The kind of couple that could probably become unbearable to any single person forced to share space with them for too long.
But happy.
Andrew watched them for a few seconds, "Have you ever been in love?"
Paige turned her head. She hadn't expected that question. It took her a few seconds to answer, "No."
She was being honest.
Andrew nodded slightly.
"Why the question?" Paige asked.
"Curiosity," Andrew replied.
Paige looked back toward the street.
Andrew did the same, "And do you want to be?" he asked.
That required a little more thought.
Paige rested her arms more comfortably on the railing, "I don't know."
Andrew waited.
"I guess the idea sounds nice when people talk about it," Paige continued, "But it also seems... exhausting."
"Exhausting?" Andrew repeated.
"Yeah. You think too much about another person. You miss them. You worry about what they're doing, what they think, whether they're okay. Something they say can make your day better or ruin it. It seems like giving another person too much control over you," Paige explained.
Andrew glanced at her, "Maybe," he said.
Paige kept looking forward, "Just to be clear, I don't mean love is horrible or some depressing nonsense like that. It just... took me a long time to feel like I had my life under control again," she said.
Now he understood better. It wasn't that Paige hated the idea of falling in love.
"That makes sense," Andrew conceded.
"Have you ever been in love?" Paige asked, now looking at him.
"Once," Andrew replied, "And yeah, part of what you're saying is true. You think about that person more than usual. Sometimes too much. It changes your routine, and when you're not in love anymore and you look back on it from the outside, some things seem pretty annoying."
"Excellent advertising. You're really making me want to go out and find love right now," Paige said with obvious sarcasm.
Andrew let out a small laugh, "Let me finish. There's a but. I don't think it's a bad thing. It has good parts too. A lot of them. And that unbearable stage of being in love doesn't last forever either."
Paige watched him curiously.
Andrew paused briefly and continued, "Everything feels more intense than it needs to. You overthink things, you want to be with that person all the time, every little thing feels important. But I guess if you make it past that stage and there's still love afterward, that's better for the relationship."
Paige stared at him for a few seconds.
She hadn't expected such a serious answer.
The couple who had sparked that entire conversation had already disappeared down the street.
Paige lightly played with the edge of her sleeve, "So you wouldn't say that losing a little control is necessarily a bad thing," she commented.
"I don't think so. Besides, you can manage it. It's not like you automatically stop being a functional person just because you fall in love," Andrew said.
"I won three championships in a row and had the most subscribed YouTube channel in the world while I was in love. Tell me whether I was functional or not," he added.
"Show-off," Paige said with a smile.
For a few seconds, neither of them added anything else.
"Was it hard for you to have control over your life? Why?" Andrew asked curiously.
Paige turned and looked at him again, "You're asking a lot of questions tonight."
"I just want to know more about you... The Texas thing was quite a discovery," Andrew replied with a shrug.
Paige stared at him.
For a few seconds, she seemed to be deciding how much she wanted to tell him.
Finally, she looked forward again.
"My childhood was weird," she finally said.
"In what way?" Andrew asked.
Paige slowly let out a breath, "I was kind of a child prodigy," she said, with a hint of disdain for the word prodigy.
"How much of a prodigy?"
"I graduated high school at eleven," Paige replied.
Andrew stared at her in silence, "Oh..."
Paige smiled faintly, "Yeah, and I could've finished earlier," she continued, "My parents realized pretty quickly that I learned too fast for a normal school, so then came the tutors, special programs, conferences... All of that."
Her childhood had ended up being organized around her intellectual ability.
Advanced classes.
Private tutors.
Exams.
Universities taking an interest in her while other kids her age were still finishing elementary school.
Her parents had poured an enormous amount of time, money, and energy into trying to make the most of that potential.
Especially her mother.
To her, every new ability Paige showed was something that needed to be cultivated immediately.
If she could skip a grade, she skipped it.
If she could study a college-level subject, she studied it.
Her father had started seeing things differently.
He believed they were demanding too much from her. That Paige was still a child even if she could solve problems many adults didn't understand.
And, above all, that the entire family was beginning to revolve exclusively around her.
There was also her older sister.
A life that couldn't be organized forever around whatever academic program Paige needed next.
"My parents ended up getting divorced when I was a kid," Paige said.
Andrew didn't interrupt.
"For a long time, I thought it was my fault. I still think that, at least partly, it was."
She didn't say it looking for sympathy.
It was simply the conclusion she had reached years ago.
Her intelligence hadn't been the only reason for the divorce, of course.
But it had amplified every difference between her parents.
Her mother wanted to push her harder.
Her father wanted to slow down.
Every decision about Paige ended up turning into an argument about how to raise her, how much to demand from her, and how much the rest of the family was sacrificing.
"At eleven, I started college on a full scholarship," she continued.
Academically, she could handle it.
That had never been the problem. The problem was everything else. She was eleven years old, surrounded by people twice her age.
They didn't share the same experiences or the same stage of life.
She could perfectly understand what a professor was explaining and still feel completely out of place during lunch.
She had no friends.
She was far from home.
Her parents had just separated, and she carried the idea that, somehow, all of it had happened because everyone had spent years trying to decide what to do with her.
"I dropped out after the first year," Paige said, "I went back to Medford with my mother."
Paige leaned a little more of her weight against the railing, "And then came my truly brilliant phase."
The sarcasm in her voice made Andrew suspect that she was not exactly talking about academic achievements.
"What did you do?" Andrew asked.
Paige closed her eyes for a second, "A lot of things I wouldn't do even if I were crazy now."
In reality, nothing especially extreme. Maybe just one thing: stealing a truck and wanting to escape the state
But she had gotten drunk more than once, raised her voice, argued over stupid things, and put herself in situations that normally would not have interested her at all.
For a while, she had also tried to turn herself into a much more extroverted person than she really was.
She talked to anyone.
Forced herself to take part in conversations that bored her.
Laughed louder than necessary.
Tried to seem carefree, sociable, and impulsive.
As if being a normal teenager necessarily meant behaving that way.
Now, looking back on it, she felt a kind of secondhand embarrassment toward herself because it felt like she had been acting.
Imitating a personality that was not hers.
After spending her entire childhood being known as Paige, the child prodigy, she had wanted to escape that identity so badly that she ended up building another one that was just as artificial.
"It was pretty pathetic," Paige admitted, "At the time, I thought I was taking back something that had been taken from me."
Andrew frowned slightly, "A normal adolescence?"
"Something like that," Paige nodded.
"Between fifteen and sixteen, I started coming out of it," she continued, "I realized I wasn't being myself either. I was just doing something else because I thought it was the opposite of what everyone expected."
Andrew listened without looking away, "And that's when you started feeling like you were taking back control?"
Paige nodded slowly, "Yes. I guess I stopped trying to be what my mother wanted, and I also stopped trying to be the exact opposite just to annoy her."
That had been the difficult part. Finding a middle ground.
Accepting that she liked learning.
That she was still extraordinarily intelligent and did not have to be ashamed of it.
When she finally decided to return to school, she wanted to do it because she had chosen to.
Not because someone else had designed a plan for her.
"That's why I wanted to leave Texas. I don't have many good memories there," she concluded.
Her relationship with her mother had not fully repaired either.
They had lived together during the years after she dropped out of college, but living together had become tense.
California had meant distance.
Not running away.
At least she did not want to call it that anymore.
Just starting over somewhere no one knew her as that girl who had graduated at eleven.
Andrew remained silent.
Now he understood much better what Paige had meant earlier when she talked about falling in love.
For other people, it could sound exciting to let someone into their life deeply enough to change their routines, priorities, and emotions.
For Paige, it was probably different.
It had taken her years to feel like her life had order again.
Falling in love meant, inevitably, giving another person a small piece of that control.
After everything she had needed to do to get it back, it was understandable that the idea scared her a little.
The silence stretched on for a while longer.
Paige finally looked at him, "Say something."
Andrew brought a hand to the back of his neck.
"I don't know..." he murmured, "College completely on your own at eleven, your parents getting divorced and you feeling like it was your fault, and I'm sure at that age the guilt felt much worse than you can analyze it now, no matter how smart you were."
Paige remained silent, listening.
"Then your rebellious phase, trying to be someone else, doing stupid things to fit in..." Andrew continued, "And finally the part where you actually realize what you were doing and manage to build a life you genuinely want."
He paused briefly.
"I guess that last part counts as an achievement. Someone else could've gotten stuck in one of those earlier stages. Drugs, alcohol, self-destruction... whatever. You managed to get out of it."
Paige ended up laughing, mostly because of the almost overly structured way Andrew had just summarized several fairly complicated years of her life.
"By the way, don't tell Sam, Leonard, or the others. I'd still rather not tell them all of this," Paige commented.
"I understand," Andrew said, "I won't say anything."
Paige didn't want to become the child prodigy again.
She didn't want the entire group to start asking her the next day what it had been like going to college at eleven.
Or for someone to inevitably bring up IQ.
She had already seen the little spectacle they could create around Leonard for being extraordinarily intelligent.
If they found out that Paige had an IQ above 180 and had graduated high school before she even became a teenager, it would probably be even worse.
She didn't want them to treat her differently.
They fell silent again.
This time, Paige watched him for a few seconds before asking, with an expression that was strangely uncertain for her, "And what do you think?"
"About what?"
"About the child prodigy thing."
Andrew looked at her. A teasing smile began to appear on his face, "Honestly, I'm not that impressed," he replied.
Paige blinked, "What?"
"I mean... I beat a girl at chess who could probably end up winning a Nobel Prize someday. Big deal. Gifted girl," Andrew explained.
Paige burst out laughing and hit him on the arm, "If I seriously studied chess, with my intelligence I'd destroy you in a month."
Andrew scoffed, "Yeah, sure," he said sarcastically, "Until you actually beat me, I don't believe it."
Paige shook her head, still smiling. But Andrew's expression changed soon afterward.
The teasing disappeared, "Seriously, though, I think it's incredible. And I don't mean incredible as in now you have to run off and get four doctorates and solve modern physics before you're thirty."
He paused briefly, looking toward the street, and continued, "I mean it because it's a huge advantage. Just like I have some advantages when it comes to football."
Andrew had worked for years: training since he was a kid, studying film, watching what he ate, sleeping properly, and repeating the same routine over and over until he was sick of it.
But it wasn't just work.
He also had: genetics, size, speed, a good arm, and even the way he processed what was happening on the field.
"And you're not the only unique creature in the world," Andrew added.
"Excuse me?" Paige said, confused.
"Leonard is ridiculously smart. If he'd wanted to, he probably could've ended up going to college way too early too. Alex is pretty close to that category as well. Not at your level, but she's very smart. Howard is too. I know it doesn't look like it, but he is."
Paige nodded in agreement.
"And then there's me," Andrew said, pointing at himself with his thumb.
"You? When exactly did you enter the academic genius category?" Paige asked.
"First of all, I took a certified IQ test and scored one hundred and twenty-four," Andrew said with a certain amount of satisfaction.
Paige stared at him, "One hundred and twenty-four?"
"Yeah. Pretty far above average. I was six points away from being able to put gifted on my résumé and becoming even more awesome," he replied.
Paige let out a small laugh.
Although, thinking about it, it wasn't really all that surprising.
He wasn't Paige.
But he clearly wasn't average either.
Andrew raised a hand, "But that's not even the important part. I'm talking about football. I'm eighteen, I'm a true freshman, and I'm competing for a Heisman that no freshman has won in more than seventy years."
Paige made a face, "I already know where this is going."
"I'm still going to say it: statistically, I might be rarer than you," Andrew said.
Paige shook her head, although she couldn't help thinking about it.
In a certain sense, he was right.
"There are more people with intelligence like mine than true freshmen who have won the Heisman," Paige admitted, "But you still haven't won it."
"I know... Whatever. That was my point. You're not a freak," Andrew commented.
Paige's smile slowly disappeared. Something in her expression softened.
Now she understood better why Andrew had taken the conversation in that direction.
She had told him, condensed into only a few minutes, about several of the most chaotic years of her life.
Including the period when she had tried to turn herself into someone else just to feel normal.
Behind much of it, there had always been the same feeling.
Being different.
Andrew wasn't trying to convince her that she wasn't.
He was simply telling her that it didn't mean she was alone.
"Thanks..." Paige murmured.
This time, her voice came out much quieter.
Andrew only smiled.
After that, the two of them went back to the party.
They didn't stay much longer.
Andrew was completely exhausted. Paige didn't have much energy left either after the trip, the game, and several hours of partying.
Paige returned to her dorm at UCLA with Sam.
As soon as they walked in, Sam closed the door behind them and looked at her with an overly interested expression.
Her interest was quickly disappointed.
"What!? You were alone in a room together for more than an hour and you didn't kiss? Nothing? Seriously?"
Paige let out a sigh as she started getting the bed ready, "Yeah. Nothing happened."
Sam looked at her as if she had just heard the most disappointing story of the night.
Paige tried to keep a neutral expression. She didn't quite manage it.
A small smile appeared on her face as she adjusted the pillow.
Nothing particularly romantic had happened. But now Andrew was the first person in Los Angeles who truly knew that part of her. Her past.
The phase she was still embarrassed to talk about.
The reason she had wanted to start over, and he hadn't looked at her any differently afterward.
That had been better than a kiss… for now.
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