It wanted to be deep and thoughtful at moments and then would do something to completely contradict it and it got jarring very fast. The tone/vibe/whatever you call it for a story was all over the place and I really struggled to see what the "point" was of the story, thematically speaking. Not gonna get too much into detail here cuz I don't care to pull quotes at this point, but the dialogue, interpersonal thoughts, and everything else didn't mesh very well. I still don't even know which state in the US this is set in, which wouldn't matter if this wasn't set in the US but kind of does matter for American readers because of how our states operate like little nations thinly tied together by various agreements. Even sports romances usually give readers the rundown so they can place the setting. Zero mention of the high school name, their team colors, their mascot, their rival teams, any real specifics to their training et al. It took until the 40% ish mark to learn the playing positions of the two protagonists. Also, I don't think they really did any research on American football, despite the entire set of characters playing or being tied to the sport in some way. Secondly, you should know this book is definitely written by someone in the UK based on their slang (an English person, if I had to guess), but they know basically jack shit about American football or American high schools beyond what the pervasiveness of American media thrust upon the entire world has convinced them it is like. Out of the scenes I actually cared to read rather than try to find the thin plot of this plot what plot book, there was maybe one smut scene that actually felt more appropriate for the YA characters being treated with new adult tropes. Okay so firstly, you should know this book has smut. Stavros leaned over the table and slapped his back.DNF around the uhhh 40% or so mark? I don't care to re-download to check lmao. The warm liquid scolding his throat as he coughed on it. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" As he was about to take a sip, he asked Stavros a question that he hadn't asked before. "I am." Steven lifted his coffee to his lips, he enjoyed the warmth that radiated from the cup. Stavros placed exactly two brown sugars into the black coffee he was drinking. "I enjoy working out, but I prefer doing it in the privacy of my own home." We could go together at some point if you'd like? If you like going to the gym?" "I wasn't-" he began, but Stavros raised an eyebrow at him that spoke that he was already well aware of Steven's less than pure gaze. "Do you like what you see?" Stavros over dramatically flexed his arms, replicating the poses of Usain Bolt and other athletes. The way they flexed as he adjusted his chair or even picked up his coffee. In particular, Steven kept finding his eyes drawn to the muscular formation of Stavros' arms. In a tight athletic black t-shirt and cargo jeans, Steven would be lying to say that Stavros didn't look rather attractive. "No problem at all." He was dressed much more casually than he usually was. He walked straight up the stairs to the upper floor and sat on the table to the immediate left. A small bell dinged as the door swung open. He rounded the corner and entered the coffee shop. He pushed himself off the wall and left the secluded alley in which he'd attempted to phone his son. For now, he wasn't sure there was anything he could. On the other hand, perhaps more realistically, his son might not want to talk to him. Optimistically speaking it could be that. Maybe he was asleep? It was early in the morning. So, why wasn't that working? They didn't have another session for a few more days, thus it wasn't required that Ezra saw him in those days. It had to be something Steven said, but what? He'd done exactly what was asked of him, to speak honestly about why he did what he did. Why couldn't he understand his own son? He went over the conversation they had in their therapy station, replaying it in his head, trying to find the damning evidence that Ezra heard that caused him to leave in such a hurry. He wanted to curse something, shift the blame onto anything other than himself. He sighed and fell back against the brick wall. Maybe you would like to meet up, just you and me. "Um, anyway I just thought I'd call and check if you were alright after what happened yesterday. Because you don't have any other dad, just me unfortunately." He awkwardly laughed into the phone. Please leave your message after the beep. The phone rang, once then twice then over and over again until it went to voicemail.
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