Brighton Part One

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The team tries to hurry to get cleaned up. Feeling sore all over, Clarke tries to tighten his fists under what remains of the hot water. As he feels the temperate water flow over his naked body, the muffled sound of AC/DC in the background, with Dallas singing along, brings a smile. Hector walks over from the spot in the corner, smacking his best friend on the shoulder.

"Helluva game, amigo. But let it go; tonight, we party like it's 1999, and we were alive back then."

Clarke winches, arching his shoulders back, "Easy! I didn't realize how much defense guys get the holy crap beaten out of them," Clarke backs out of the water, "Besides, I'm meeting Tracy for dinner. However, I promise we will meet up for lunch or something tomorrow."

Hector scoffs, walking away, "Sounds good. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. If you do, make sure you name it after me!"

"Oh, hardy-har-har! If I do anything, believe me, it'll be named after you out of pure spite!" Clarke teases as they share a laugh.

Alone, Clarke finally turns off the shower before retrieving his towel and wrapping it around his waist. The steam from the showers makes its way through the changing locker room area. The team continues to breathe in the fumes. It helps to ease their tension while some rub in some ointment. Everything comes to an instant halt when the coaches come from the office. Coach Sparks leaves his hands behind his back.

"TEAM! Gather 'round!" He announces as everyone turns their eyes toward him, "Tonight was a complete shit storm. We barely survived one of the most brutal opponents on the schedule. Y'all pulled together after halftime more than you ever have before. I am so incredibly proud of every single one of you!" Coach Sparks brings out the game ball from behind his back, "This week's game ball goes to Dallas Nightstorm. He played hard and stepped up, forcing opportunities that led to us getting the win."

As Dallas walks up, everyone claps and cheers, tugging down his faded black Guns N' Roses t-shirt. Tucking part of the front into his ripped blue jeans. Coach Sparks rolls the ball to Dallas's hands, followed by a handshake. The team celebrates by clapping or whistling.

"Okay, y'all, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here! Goodnight, gentlemen!" Coach Sparks teases, unaware of the lurking danger.

The Hillsboro team showers and remains behind with friends who drove to the game. Stalling for time, the Hillsboro crowd follows people driving to Cowboy Lake. They blend in with the crowd, partaking in the usual festivities. No one is the wiser about the intruders.

Clarke pulls up at The Best Buckin' Pizza, parks, and joins Tracy inside. Once he's seated, there's a strawberry lemonade on the table. Tracy is across the booth, smiling when he settles in the seat.

"Hello, handsome. Do you come here often?" Tracy greets with a sarcastic remark.

Looking at Tracy sitting there wearing a low-cut bright green v-neck shirt. Clarke stares at the heart charm necklace and can't resist the urge, "Nah," he begins and twists his head a little, "I meet my so-called 'hos' here that everyone at school thinks I sleep with from time to time."

Tracy scoffs, kicking Clarke in the shin, "Ho? Did you seriously just call me a ho?"

Sharing a laugh, they close their eyes, feeling antsy being out in public since Clarke and Tracy still want to keep things private.

"So, how do we play it off if anyone asks if we're dating?"

Tracy sits there, rubbing her chin with her thumb and index finger, "That's a good concern," she says and ponders, "I guess we can say that we bumped into each other like last week. I mean, everyone knows we're friends. We can make it look simple as long as we don't hold hands, play footsy, or kiss."