A boyxboy enemies to lovers high-school comedy based in New York city.
𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗼 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗻á𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘇, the flirtatious and ridiculously handsome football star quarterback- is both rude and quick tempered, but most concernedly known as the Northside Hi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
MARCO'S POV
I like to believe that football is all about trust.
You want to be able to trust your coach, team mates, the people coming to support you- hell, even the damn ball.
It's easy- putting trust in a sport.
I can't say the same about people.
"I'll be back very soon, okay Marc?"
"That's what you said last time."
She chuckled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. "You just can't seem to forget anything- can you?"
"Nope." I gave her a crooked grin as tears rolled down my cheeks. "You promise you'll come back?"
"Of course."
"Pinky promise?"
She chuckled again at my expense as she knelt down before me. She pulled my body towards her, sinking me into a plush hug. I wrapped my small arms around her as I breathed in her familiar scent- peach and cigarettes.
I whimpered when she pulled away.
"I'll be back. Okay? I promise." She planted a kiss of my forehead, leaving a red lipstick mark- then moved on to Pablo to do the same.
"Goodbye boys." She waved at us cheerfully, clutching onto her suitcase. "There's no need to be sad- put a smile on your faces. Till we meet again."
And who said parents weren't supposed to lie?
They probably lied.
It's crazy how I go through the roughest times of my life-but I only remember the good times.
I remember the beach trips, bedtime stories, brand new toys, coming to support me at softball games.
But never the screaming and the yelling. Forgetting about my existence and leaving me in a hot car for almost three hours. Roughly pushing me into a radiator- resulting in the scar that rests above my left eyebrow- now discreetly covered with an eyebrow piercing.
She was a good mom- wasn't she? She tried. Didn't she? Not everyday was perfect- but the days that were, truly were. At least that's what I tried to tell myself every fucking day for years.