EVERLY
The plan is easy: talk to Xander, convince him to willingly spend time with me outside practice, and somehow get through the day without biting his head off.
Okay, I lied; the plan is far from easy. It's virtually impossible. Not to mention the thought of spending more time than necessary with that asshole makes me want to slit my wrists.
Yes, I'm exaggerating. Mostly. But I think it makes my point pretty clear. I'd be happy to spend some extra time with any other of my teammates, because they don't act like my presence in the same room is the biggest punishment they could have gotten.
Although I realize walking into this with the "no way it will work out" attitude probably won't help, so as I enter the locker room, I do my best to push the negative thoughts away and hide them in the dark.
But the second my eyes land on Xander, they're dragged to the forefront of my mind.
He doesn't notice me right away because he's changing into his practice gear. No one else is there, which isn't surprising because we still have plenty of time. I knew he'd be here early—he always is, no exceptions—so I figured there's no better time to talk. Knowing that our teammates will be here soon should keep me from letting things escalate.
Building up the courage to come up to Xander and just get it over with, I just stand by the door, staring at him like some weirdo.
He takes his shirt off, revealing this unbelievable set of abs that make even Hilton jealous, our best attackman, jealous, and he's the most ripped one on the team.
Xander is much smaller in build but still looks insanely good. All the guys on the team spend more time at the gym than any other place, and it shows, but something about Xander just makes you physically unable to look away.
Chill out, dude. Damn.
Just as I'm about to cut my creep moment short, he looks up at me, and the colors drain from his face in an instant.
"What the fuck?!"
Good start, Ev.
"Sorry." I put my hands up like a burglar who just got caught red-handed. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"How long have you been here?"
Okay, no, "startle" is an understatement. The guy looks downright terrified.
"Not long, I swear." A little white lie won't hurt anyone.
He takes a step back, his eyes not leaving me even for a second.
Damn, I scared him good, didn't I? Well, that's one way to undermine my whole plan.
"Can we talk?"
I don't get an answer right away.
Xander looks down at the black T-shirt in his hands, then back at me, and puts it back on so fast that I'm a little taken aback.
Weird, right? Or am I just being paranoid?
"About what?"
"About... Uh, fuck."
I hang my head, completely discouraged.
"Are there any more words coming, or was that the whole sentence?"
At least one thing didn't change.
"Funny," I deadpan. "Listen, I know we kinda parted on bad terms on Saturday, and..."
"No, we didn't," he interrupts me, not even trying to hide his annoyance. "We ended that whole shitshow Coach set up, so frankly, I'm happy."
Murder is a crime. Committing it will send you to prison. Prison means no lacrosse. Remember that before you go all Dexter on him.
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The Winning Shot
Storie d'amoreI was young, naive, and weak, when my whole world collapsed. Now, I'm still young, but I know better. Better than to put my guard down. Better than to blindly believe those who promise, they won't hurt me. Better than to think someone would show som...
