Bittersweet (Jenna Ortega)

chapter ten.

FRIDAY

Maise's POV

"I want you to pretend I'm your opponent, alright?"

Jenna quirks her eyebrows, giving me a weird stare.

"I don't have all day," I huff out in frustration. "You have an imaginative mind, don't you?"

"Obviously I do. I'm not boring like you."

"Then this shouldn't be an issue for you," I retort. "I'm your opponent. Your goal is to get around me. Make your move."

She rolls the ball to the left, back to the right, then it slips out from between her feet.

"You're distracted." I point out. Instantly my mind jumps to the conclusion that her uncle is to blame. She was uncomfortable talking about him.

"You can tell?" Her voice comes out soft.

"Your dribbling has always been sloppy, but not like this." I say truthfully.

She tenses up. "Sorry."

Jenna is apologising? Something is definitely haunting her.

"Wanna.. uh.. take a break? Maybe talk about why you.. why your-"

Her face hardens. "I don't need a break. Let's run it through again." She repositions the ball back at her feet.

"Okay, just trying to be nice." I mutter bitterly.

"Well don't. You're training me, not therapizing me." She snaps.

First and last time I ever try to understand her situation. Maybe we could've bonded over our shitty uncles. Now that maybes a never.

"I'll show you a few alternative dribbling techniques. I noticed you don't have a range to choose from." I take the ball from between her feet.

"Personally I like to surprise my opponent. If you're too repetitive, they'll study your plays to use them against you."

"How many do you know?"

"Too many to count." I say. "For right now, we'll focus on three. You'll perfect them before tomorrow's game."

"Three seems a little much."

I ignore her comment. "First, I want you to steal the ball from me."

She smirks cockily, confident she could achieve just that.

Jenna lunges at me, I weave. She opts for a poorly executed tackle, I dodge her. This goes on for five minutes straight, until she takes me by surprise.

Gently kicking the ball down the stretch of my backyard, Jenna suddenly slide tackles me. And it's a fucking A grade tackle.

Jenna winds up underneath me, our heads butting together with a hollow thump.

I groan softly, taking in the view of the girl below me. She lets out a few uneven pants, her breath ghosting over my nose. I trail my eyes over the redness of her cheeks, wondering if her face is flushed because she's embarrassed or mad.

Then, she chuckles. Slowly it builds to laughter. Now the both of us are exploding into a fit.

I fall back onto my knees, clutching my stomach from the stitch that forms from laughing too hard.

"Slide tackling is your superiority. You need to give me a few tips."

She's still smiling when she looks at me. I can't believe I never appreciated how pretty her eyes are. I thought I preferred girls with light eyes. Perhaps that's scheduled to change.