BEAUTIFUL

SIX

Grayson

August Damaris is a shoddy goal keeper.

There are only a few measly weeks between today and the game with our rival, Camden Heights Preparatory, so pressure has been at an all time high. Coach has us on the field 4 times a week running the most strenuous drills thinkable, so everybody is rather irritable during these 6am practices— Everybody except for August Damaris, it seems.

It's the third practice of the week, and I have yet to see the green-eyed boy do anything besides chuck footballs at his brother's head and laugh at his own jokes.

"That practice was absolute rubbish." Dimitri mutters annoyedly, his expression rigid as he pulls on his trousers.

A towel with an absurdly high thread count wraps around my upper-body as while I watch one of my closest friends struggle to contain his frustration. We're co-captains of the football team, though he's always been more devoted to the sport than I ever could be— Perhaps because I knew I would never have a future in football.

"It was bad." I admit, opening my locker and grabbing my duffle.

Everyone was off their game— Except for me, of course, I have no flaws. Their attention was more focused on the light-haired boy with green eyes cracking absurd jokes by the goal rather than the game. August Damaris isn't aware of how big of a deal this upcoming match is, so he's fucking around. He'd been fucking around.

But I can't even be annoyed by it, because his presence was the only thing remotely tolerable during this 6am practice. The guy is like a beacon of bloody sunshine— It confuses me how it's possible that his sister turned out to be the complete opposite.

August Damaris is the most laidback person I've ever met.

His sister seems to have a stick lodged up her ass. Not that I think about her ass.

August Damaris is unbothered and easy to read.

His sister is confusing. And impossible to read. One second she's looking at me with bedroom eyes, the next she's glaring at me like I kicked her dog.

August Damaris is—

My train of thought is interrupted a blast of music erupting from a speaker.

— is singing 'Slut me out'. Whilst dancing. And pretending to whip Ryder's ass with a blue jersey.

Snickers from throughout the locker-room fill the air, my team mates clearly amused at the scene playing before us. My lips twitch, an amused smile threatening to take over my face before I take control of the urge.

An irritated huff sounds from beside me, a pissed off look on Dimitri's face as he watches the two boys sing the lyrics and dance about— And something tells me his foul mood isn't due to how awful of a singer Ryder is.

August flounces around the room, a cheeky smile on his face as he dances wildly. Untamed and no care to anyones opinion on his poor dancing skills. He makes his way over to me, just as the chorus begins.

'Rip off my shirt if you love me'

His strong arms move to do just that, a teasing smile on his face. The only problem is the towel wrapped around my upper-body like a shield. It doesn't sway him, he doesn't even falter as he reaches to grab the towel from my shoulders.

A familiar mask falls into place— Cold gaze, intimidating scowl, and face void of any telling emotions. It was a mask I donned far too often.

August's easygoing smile doesn't waver when I set my icy gaze on him, and it's brightness doesn't wain a I catch his incoming hand and wrench it away from me. The grip I have on my towel tightens as I step away from him, a warning plastered on my face. Thankfully, he seems to possess a brain and keeps his hands to himself.