Chasing Fallen

Chapter 30

I was aching in places I didn't know could ache before.

Of all games, he'd chose dodgeball.

I was fit but clearly that did nothing to aid in my abilities to dodge the ball. I carefully sat down on the cafeteria seat clutching my thigh.

I played soccer for crying out loud. I was used to running for the ball, not running away from it!

Mikhail looked at me in pity.

The boys still thought I had taken the blow to my manly bits. Hence when the event had happened I had to play on the theatrics to prove just how much pain I was in, or should have been. But my thigh still smarted and I'm sure it was a gorgeous shade of scarlet.

And the perpetrator of my pain was none other than the Easy McGuire who'd surprisingly took his time to apologize profusely, donning an adorable crimson on the tips of his ears much to his friends confusion.

But then again, what had happened to me did not even come close to anything that he had gone through. He was silently declared as public enemy number one and Easy didn't even have to lay a hand, or ball on him to cause damage. Because every other Sak had beat him to it in the first 5 seconds of the game causing him to black out when he finally got a blow to the head from one particularly fast projectile.

Abel got a nod in return from his majesty and he was on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

"How is it now?" I heard him ask behind me.

"It's now okay I guess."

I was surprised when he put his tray next to me and sat down. He usually sat next to Preston and Dylan.

"I'm honestly sorry for that." He apologized, again.

"Did you get hit on the head too. Remorse doesn't seem to be one of your strong points," I joked with a little laugh at the end that almost betrayed just how nervous I was.

"I know how it feels. Your cousin had a particularly odd habit of compromising my well-being in that manner." He slightly grimaced at the thought.

I choked on my pasta, "Who, Noah?" I laughed.

"No, Camille." He said softly with a slight tilt of his lips.

Enter the violent butterflies.

We fell into silence as everyone chatted on the table.

"You suck at dodgeball by the way," Preston said from across the table.

I didn't need a rocket scientist to know he was talking to me. "I could still kick your ass any day at soccer though," I grinned.

"You don't even have foot-eye coordination." He smirked.

"We can go on and on with words but the only place we can settle this is on the field."

"Okay so it's on. You versus me this Saturday. We can each make a team and may the best man win." He stretched out his hand for a handshake.

I returned the handshake with the same energy. However my grip was tighter than his. Then it became a competition on whose grip is tighter.

I won.

"Okay, okay. These are delicate." He flexed his hand.

I had a shit eating grin on by now.

"That doesn't prove anything," he chuckled. "So whose up COD and drinks?" He asked the rest of the table.

Before he could finish off that statement everyone on the table was off to Preston's cabin.

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