He straightened, some of the amusement leaving him. “Colby was a third-round pick. Jake was second round. I was second overall draft pick.” He was back in my space, pushing me back, crowding me. “You know what that means, right? I was a first-round pick. One other guy got picked before me, and he was the Heisman winner. You understanding where I’m going here?” I placed my palms on his chest, but he was like cement. He wasn’t moving. His heart just picked up pace and I got what he was saying. Still didn’t matter. I shrugged. “What do you want me to say? I grew up with skinned knees and you
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