A day had passed since the ESPN interview, and Sunday arrived. It meant the day of the breakup.
Andrew hadn't slept well; he kept running through possible scenarios of the conversation he would have later. None of those simulations ended well.
The day before, he hadn't seen Pippa. She had said she needed to study, but Andrew knew that was only half true.
On Friday they had argued because Pippa had once again reproached him about Willa's presence at his games. Instead of giving in, Andrew had stood his ground calmly, refusing to give the submissive answer she expected. The fight lingered in the air, and he was sure she was still upset.
At ten in the morning, he sent her a message suggesting they meet for coffee, telling her he wanted to talk.
Pippa took more than an hour to reply, and she did so in a distant tone: she could meet at four in the afternoon, because she had to finish an assignment for Monday. Andrew agreed; he had no choice. He spent the rest of the day wandering around the house, unable to focus on anything.
Ten minutes before the arranged time, he grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.
"Where are you going, Andrew?" Cam asked from the living room, while playing with Lily on the carpet.
Mitchell looked up from his book, teacup in hand, watching him curiously.
"I'm going to grab a drink with Pippa…" Andrew replied, trying to sound natural.
Mitchell raised an eyebrow, his parental intuition rarely deceiving him. There was nothing odd in his son's voice or posture, but something in the air told him Andrew wasn't being completely honest.
"Everything okay?" he asked carefully.
Andrew held his gaze for a second before nodding with a brief smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'll see you later."
He left quickly, before they could press further.
Mitchell and Cam exchanged a glance. Cam pursed his lips, silently wondering if they should step in. But Mitchell waved a hand and closed his book.
"It's probably just teenager stuff," he muttered.
They couldn't meddle in every aspect of their son's life. They knew that if Andrew needed them, he would call.
Cam nodded and turned his focus back to Lily, who demanded his attention in her epic toy battle.
…
Andrew parked in front of Pippa's house and turned off the engine. He didn't have to wait long: within minutes, she came out. Her hair was down, headphones hanging around her neck, and her expression serious, with no attempt to soften it when she saw him.
She slid into the passenger seat with a curt motion, shutting the door without looking at him much.
"Hi," she said flatly, her tone as cold as her stare.
"Hi," Andrew replied, making no effort to break the tension, nor to kiss her.
'She's definitely still mad about Friday…' Andrew thought.
That coldness only reinforced his conviction that the relationship was over.
He thought that if Pippa had shown regret, if she had admitted that Friday's fight was toxic, that Willa wasn't a threat but simply part of the group with Howard, Leonard, and Haley, maybe it would have been harder for him to take this step. But no. That proud distance confirmed it all.
The drive to the café passed in heavy silence. Neither the radio nor the cars around them could cover it. Andrew kept his eyes fixed on the road, while Pippa, arms crossed, stared out the window. Neither made the slightest effort to start a conversation.
The bell above the door chimed as they walked in. The café was half full, with a soft hum of conversations and the smell of freshly ground coffee in the air.
Andrew chose a table in the corner, away from prying eyes. Pippa followed without enthusiasm, took off her jacket, and set her bag on the chair.
They ordered two coffees without looking much at each other. Once the cups were on the table, the silence settled in again.
Andrew knew this was the moment, he couldn't keep delaying it.
"Pippa, I want to talk to you…" he began firmly.
She raised her eyebrows, as if she already knew where this was going. "I can see where this is headed," she muttered, folding her arms.
"We've been together for almost two years. And they were good years. But for a while now, things haven't been right. It's gotten too hard, we fight more than we enjoy…" Andrew said.
These weren't typical teenage fights with shouting or overblown jealousy scenes. They were like Friday's: Pippa throwing out a reproach, and Andrew with no intention of backing down or acting submissive. Neither gave in. The result: cold silences, long distances.
Pippa stared at him without blinking, without interrupting.
"I think it's best if we break up. For both of us," Andrew concluded firmly.
The silence thickened. Pippa placed her hands on the table, calmly intertwining her fingers. Her gaze was cold, but Andrew caught a glimpse of the crack behind it.
"So that's it," she finally said, her tone dry. "You brought me here to… give me a speech and dump me? Very classy, Andrew."
Andrew tilted his head. "Would you rather I'd done it by text? Believe me, it would've been a lot easier for me. No awkward moments like this, and I wouldn't have had to wait over an hour for you to reply to a message."
Pippa clenched her jaw, but before she could snap back, Andrew continued:
"You don't trust me, Pippa. And without trust, there's no relationship. The only thing that'll happen if we keep going… is that it's all going to get worse."
"Trust?" Pippa repeated, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, sure… I guess you mean because a cheerleader smiles at you and I dare to get uncomfortable. Or because Willa gives you expensive little figurines and shows up at all your games like she's your personal groupie. Sorry for not keeping my mouth shut and clapping along."
Andrew stared at her in disbelief, "You seriously think Willa is a groupie?"
A "groupie" is an admirer or unconditional fan of a singer, musician, band, celebrity, or even an athlete, who follows them on tours or public appearances in hopes of getting close to them, forming a personal connection, and in many cases, a sexual relationship.
The very word sounded like a direct insult, and Andrew wasn't about to let it slide.
"If Willa's a groupie, then she's the worst one in history: she shows up with Leonard, Howard, and Haley, devours nachos like there's no tomorrow, and screams louder when someone takes a brutal tackle than when I throw a touchdown pass…"
Pippa didn't flinch, keeping her coldness intact. Andrew raised his voice just a notch, with dry sarcasm:
"So now… being polite with a smile counts as cheating? Because if that's the case, I'd better start walking around with a paper bag over my head. And God forbid I ever accidentally hold a cheerleader's hand… wouldn't want to end up with a baby on the way."
"Oh, hilarious, Andrew. Just hilarious." Pippa stared at him, nodding with a gesture of false approval. "Congratulations. You'll be free to smile at all those girls hanging off you in the hallways without me getting in your way."
Andrew opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, leaning just slightly toward him with one last jab:, "And let me tell you something, if in the near future I find out you're with Willa… then I'll know that everything you just said was nothing but an excuse, and I was right."
Pippa stood up abruptly, pulled some bills from her purse, and slammed them down on the table, paying for the coffee she had barely touched. Without looking at him, she turned on her heel.
Andrew barely managed to lift his hand, but there was no time to stop her. The bell above the door rang one last time as she walked out with firm steps.
If it had been up to him, he would have preferred to end things on good terms. The thought even crossed his mind to offer her a ride back home, the sky was overcast, and it was a fifteen-minute walk, while by car it would've been less than five.
But he knew her too well. Pippa wouldn't have accepted, not after that conversation.
Andrew sighed, sinking into the back of his chair. He looked at the coffee in front of him, still steaming, though he had no desire to drink it.
It was done. The relationship was over.
A cold emptiness settled in his chest. It didn't shatter him, but he couldn't say it didn't hurt.
One question crossed his mind and he couldn't help it: What's going to happen with Flappy Bird? The video game they had created together.
There would be no need to stay in touch: the shared account was under both their parents' names, so each family would receive their 50% of the profits. What was certain was that Flappy Bird would stop getting updates, few as they already were. Now there would be none.
Andrew shook his head, pushing the thought away. This wasn't the time to feel sorry over a cell phone game.
He stayed in silence, slowly turning the cup between his hands, until he heard a timid voice beside him.
"Excuse me… you're Andrew, right?"
He looked up and saw a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, accompanied by a boy of about eight or nine. The kid hid partly behind her, nervous, his eyes shining with excitement.
Andrew nodded.
"My son is a huge fan of your YouTube channel," the mother explained warmly. "He always watches your football videos, even the training ones, trying to copy the drills at home. Could we bother you for a picture?"
Andrew wanted to say: Ma'am, didn't you just see I'm not exactly in the best state right now?
Of course, they hadn't put on a soap-opera scene in the middle of the café, but anyone watching could tell that the conversation with Pippa hadn't been a walk in the park.
Still, when Andrew looked at the boy's face, with the barely contained excitement in his eyes, he forced himself to smile genuinely. "Yes, of course."
He leaned slightly toward him. "What's your name, buddy?"
The boy took a timid step forward but didn't answer. It was his mother who replied: "His name is John. He's mute."
Andrew blinked, momentarily surprised. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he raised his hands and began moving them fluently. "Nice to meet you, John. Thanks for watching my videos. We can talk, I know sign language."
The boy's expression transformed completely: first disbelief, then a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He hadn't spoken before because he thought Andrew wouldn't understand him.
The mother stared in astonishment. She remembered that in one of Andrew's channel videos, when he infiltrated a summer tournament under the alter ego Eyeshield 21, he had used sign language to give realism to the character. That was her son's favorite video, it felt like a movie.
She had assumed it was just basic phrases learned for the camera, not that Andrew had actually learned to communicate with such ease.
John, nervous but thrilled, quickly responded in signs: "I always watch the previews and highlights. I want to be a running back, like your alter ego."
Andrew chuckled softly and answered both in signs and aloud, reinforcing each word, "A running back, huh? Good choice. But you'll have to train hard… a running back has to be fast, and above all, withstand tackles. No giving up."
The boy nodded vigorously, his face lighting up with a huge smile.
The mother, moved, pulled out her phone and snapped several photos. She looked at Andrew with a mix of gratitude and surprise. "I never imagined… that you knew so much. This means the world to him. Thank you."
"It's no big deal…" Andrew said, a little embarrassed.
Then he turned back to John, signing again while speaking, "I hope you'll watch my game this Friday against Bosco. It's going to be on TV. And I promise, if I score a rushing touchdown, I'll make a special sign as a celebration for you."
John looked at him, first surprised, then quickly lifted his hands. He formed the letter J in sign language, a pinky tracing a curve downward, and repeated it eagerly.
Andrew laughed, nodding. "The J for John? I like it. That'll be our signal."
The boy nodded with a massive smile, as if he'd just received the best gift in the world, and suddenly threw his arms around Andrew in a tight hug.
Andrew froze for a second, surprised by the enthusiasm, then quickly returned the gesture.
The mother covered her mouth, deeply moved, and managed to snap another quick photo of the moment. "Truly… thank you. You have no idea what you just did for him."
Andrew coughed lightly, trying to play down the emotional moment. "It's nothing, it's nothing…"
The truth was, if he was honest, he needed that hug more than John did.
Andrew said goodbye by ruffling the boy's hair with a smile, leaving him overflowing with happiness.
After that, he finished his coffee, paid, and left the café. When he started the Camaro's engine, he didn't head straight home.
He wanted to be alone for a while, so he drove to a nearby lookout point. Given the time and the cloudy day, the place was almost certainly empty.
He parked, got out of the car, and sat on the hood, letting the cold air hit his face. About ten minutes passed in silence, staring into the distance without thinking of anything in particular, until his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out and looked at the screen. Incoming call: Haley.
Andrew answered. "Hello?"
"I'm home…" he said after Haley asked where he was.
A grimace crossed his face when Haley told him she knew he wasn't at home, because she had called Mitch and he said Andrew wasn't there.
In the end, he gave in and told her where he was. When the call ended, he let out a resigned sigh.
A few minutes later, a Mini Cooper pulled up next to the Camaro. Haley got out immediately and, without saying a word, went straight to hug him tightly.
Andrew stayed still for a moment, surprised by the spontaneity of the gesture, but he accepted it, hugging her back.
"How did you find out so fast?" Andrew asked, raising an eyebrow.
Haley pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. "Grandpa."
Andrew chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "So, he betrayed me… I told him not to tell anyone."
Haley smiled faintly. "You know how Grandpa is, he's not exactly the king of emotional moments. And he knew you'd do this today… He probably thought: better send Haley, because anyone else would turn it into a Greek drama instead of helping you."
Andrew couldn't argue with that logic. Well played, Grandpa.
Haley sat beside him on the hood and gave him a mischievous smile. "So here I am, cousin. Offering you my shoulder in case you want to cry."
"Whoa, great customer service," Andrew said with a faint smile.
"Premium service, just for you, my friend," Haley replied, grinning.
Andrew glanced at her sideways, amused. "So tell me, expert… how did you get over your breakups? You're basically a professional at this."
Haley gave him a playful shove on the arm. "Idiot. I'm not an expert… Well, maybe a little," she admitted with a laugh, thinking about Dylan and the absurd number of times they had broken up and gotten back together.
Her smile softened and she looked at him more seriously. "Are you okay?"
Andrew shrugged. "Yeah. I'm fine. There are worse things."
Haley raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Worse things than ending a two-year relationship?"
Andrew nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. Worse things: dying, losing a loved one… or losing a football game."
Haley gave him a look, half amused, half bewildered. "Wow, that got dark real fast. And wait… losing a football game? You've never lost one. The day that happens it'll be like the end of the world."
"Exactly. And Friday I've got a game I can't lose," Andrew said, with the faintest trace of a smile on his face.
Haley watched him in silence, calm. She knew her cousin wasn't completely okay, that calmness was more of a shield than anything else. But she could also read that unmistakable spark in his eyes: he had already found in the Bosco game a way to channel everything he was feeling.
'Poor Bosco guys…' Haley thought.
From Andrew's look, it was clear he had turned them into his catharsis. Which meant that in that game, he'd unleash it all. They were doomed.
Andrew shook his head, flashing her a grateful smile, "Thanks for coming, Hal."
She smiled back, shrugging.
Andrew looked at her for a moment and, with a playful glint, changed the subject. "Hey… it's been a while since you had a boyfriend. What happened?"
With Dylan, Haley had broken up and gotten back together more times than anyone could count. But for a while now, she had managed to avoid falling back into that cycle.
Haley sighed, then smiled with a touch of irony. "It's your fault."
"My fault?" Andrew repeated, confused.
"Yeah. You ruined me, cousin. You raised my standards. Before, I always wanted a boyfriend. Now I don't. I'm calmer, more focused. I'm improving my grades to get into college and study fashion, which is what I really want. And you know what… I'm so much better this way."
Andrew nodded, satisfied, almost proud. "That's great. But tell me…" he said with a smile, "what do you say if I set you up with a friend of mine?"
Haley narrowed her eyes, amused. "What friend of yours?"
With a serious expression, Andrew said, "His name starts with L and ends with D."
Haley looked at him in disbelief. "Leonard? Seriously?"
Andrew nodded as if it were the most logical idea in the world. "Of course. You two even kissed, didn't you? I remember, I saw it on a video…"
Haley covered her face for a second, letting out a nervous laugh. "Andrew, that was a thousand years ago, at a party, and we were both drunk. Nothing else ever happened."
Andrew shrugged. "Well, I'm just saying… Leonard's a great guy."
"I'm not saying he isn't. He's smart, sweet… too smart, really. But I don't see him that way. I see him as a friend, nothing more."
Andrew studied her for a moment, as if gauging whether she was serious, then laughed. "Alright, alright. Just an idea."
In truth, Andrew preferred it that way. Leonard was one of his best friends. It would've been great if he dated Haley, it would have brought him even closer to the family.
But if the relationship didn't work, it would make things awkward and difficult for Andrew. It was better if they all stayed friends.
The lighthearted conversation, filled with jokes and confessions, helped Andrew forget about everything for a while. They ended up talking for more than an hour before each one finally headed home.
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