August & Colin | WRU series | book 1
We take risks. We make mistakes. We lie. We love. We hurt. We lose total control.
I took a risk. I paid the price.
I made a mistake. I felt the guilt.
I lied. I lie.
I loved. I try not to.
I hurt. I still do.
...
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The door of our locker room swings open, revealing Finnick whose bags under his eyes have succumbed compared to this morning, indicating the possibility his hangover underwent the same transformation is existent.
After a glance at my watch, I wish for his sake it did because concluding from the time he has left before we have to assemble on the field, he'll most likely have his usual quality time with coach Torrez after practice in the form of punishment exercises for being late.
However, over the years I've begun to think Finnick doesn't interpret it as punishment but rather as an extra opportunity to keep his physique at a top-notch level. That man's ability to see the positive in every situation is phenomenal. Even when he's hungover he endures it without whining.
Negotiating? Yes, absolutely.
Whining? Never.
Coach Torrez must've started to crack the code because recently he started to punish the rest of the team on behalf of Finnick which is why, on second thought, I'm wishing for my sake his hangover is absent enough for him to hurry into his clothes without a trip to the toilet.
"Birthday boy! What did you think of my present for you?" Matteo chimes as he slaps Finnick's back.
He immediately returns the sentiment with the brightest wide-toothed smile I've ever seen, however his slap is audibly harsher and the blue in his eyes could freeze someone to death. "You're a fucking asshole."
The grin displayed on Matteo's face is carefully crafted by the devil. Stone cold yet to anyone who knows him well enough a hint of mischief is detectible in the slight crinkle of his eyes. He's enjoying every second of Finnick's stare as if he feeds on it to gain energy.
"You didn't like the pet I got you?" The corner of my mouth quirks up as I remember Finnick pleading to remove the snake from his bedroom.
"He screamed," I snicker, joining in on the fun of mocking him. Daniel's fist flies in front of his mouth to keep himself from laughing.
"It was a soft squeal," Finnick defends himself but we all ignore him.
"I think the neighbors even heard him." Satisfaction covers Matteo's face as he attentively listens to my version of the story.
"That loud?"
"It wasn't that loud." Finnick frowns as he tries to downplay it.
I might be Switzerland in this war going on between Matteo and Finnick but I can't help myself. "It sounded like he died for a second."
"I was surprised."
Matteo puts his foot on the bench to lace his shoes and glances up at me. "So like a growl or high-pitched?" His face is strict as if collecting details is detrimental to being able to fully paint the picture in his head.
