She was the girl I use to bully. That was until she captured my heart.
Still relevantly new in a relationship, I can't keep my hands off of her. My Red was addicting. Forever addicting.
Now, we're in college with a imperial distance between us.
No...
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Bad.
Coach Dion Reynolds, a former NFL quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys, has bestowed upon me the immediate claim.
It didn't take me long before I knew he was going to be a difficult ass coach.
And what really irritates me is that the guy had no basis for his assumptions because he knew absolutely nothing about the way I truly play ball. I wouldn't say I'm the team's best player, but I also wouldn't say I'm a bad one.
Since the big star coach arrived today, he hasn't bothered to introduce himself to the entire team. Instead, he immediately jumped into practice, and we ran drills. Practice was a pain and it was beginning to piss me off whenever he would give props to a few teammates that have absolutely nothing on me.
It's not me being arrogant, it's me simply noting the facts.
"Defense!" Coach Reynolds yells, with a very unlevel tone in his voice. The irritation was as clear as day. "Run it again!"
On the sidelines, Coach Flores was watching each and every one of us. When he looks at me, he nods his head to signal that I show out. Just as I recalled what he said before Coach Reynolds made his first appearance, a frown found its way to my lips.
"Remain vigilant and focused. Although you are a freshman, know that you have something unique that can aid in our team's success as the Bruins. QB will be yours with the work."
My heart hammers as my thoughts fade away and my focus is drawn back to the practice game that is currently taking place. The thing is, I can't seem to focus when I am trusted with the ball and the opposing teammate collides into me sending me to the ground and losing control of the ball.
"Forty-one!" Coach Reynolds called out my number, and I knew that it was time for me to get off the field.
Cursing, I take off my helmet and ignore the messy strands of my hair that was in my face. Walking off the field, I see Kelvin grabbing his helmet to take my spot. With a supportive look, he runs past me onto the field.
It's only the moment I get off the field that Coach Reynolds looks at me with agitation. The moment was brief, and the second he turns his attention back on the field, I feel as though I can relax.
"You've been sloppy all practice," Coach Flores claims, folding his arms across his chest as he looks at me with a firm look. "I told Reynolds that he would have something to look forward to on his arrival."
"I never promised anything," I gritted, my frustration with this entire practice eating at me. "Who even said I wanted to be captain?"
"If you don't want to be captain, then that's fine, but at least try to make the effort to be at the top of Reynolds' list."
"Let's go nineteen!" Reynolds clapped loudly, along with a few other teammates.
"It's clear the guy has his favorites," I scoffed. I watched as nineteen and thirty-nine did a small jump before shaking hands.
