continued from here ( @itgiirls )
He leaned back against the training table, his eyes tracking the patterns on the ceiling tiles he'd spent far too many hours memorizing over the past six years since he'd been drafted here. Nash was the only person who could tell him to slow down without Cameron feeling the immediate urge to snap back, but that didn't make the pill any easier to swallow. "It's because I'm the only story they have left," Cameron said with a shrug, his voice sounding hollow even to himself. He finally looked at Nash, watching the way he handled him probably than he even did himself. "If they talk about the O-line, it's because they're doing a horrible job as usual. If they talk about the coaching, it's shitty. And then, if I trip or like... Miss a read, that's a headline. That is a segment on every morning show." He winced slightly as Nash moved his leg, not from any sort of pain, but from the sheer weight of the truth. He felt like a man trying to hold up a collapsing building with a broken shoulder, and all the onlookers were doing was critiquing his form. "Rest," he repeated, the word tasting bitter. "I'll rest because I have to, Nash. And it's not like I don't enjoy the rest, I just also feel incredibly restless this time of year."
