Resenting you [BXB]

RESENTING YOU - 04 | ''Good job out there, Stricker,''

JORDAN'S FRUSTRATION LINGERED THROUGH the rest of lunch, a shadow casting over his mood. Khalid had stolen all the attention, every conversation revolving around him as if Jordan didn't exist. It gnawed at him, the way his friends laughed at Khalid's jokes, their eyes lit up with admiration. The constant buzz of voices praising the new guy grated on his nerves, making his blood boil.

As they trailed to the locker rooms to get ready for practice, Jordan could still hear the annoying chatter of his teammates. ''So, Khalid, you gonna teach us some of those moves you pulled at tryouts yesterday?'' Mack asked, his tone genuinely impressed.

''Yeah, man, you were like a ghost out there,'' Eli added, chuckling. ''I have never seen coach smile before. It was kinda freaky.''

Lie! He had smiled at me once my Junior year. But of course everybody forgot about that.

Eye roll.

Khalid's easy laugh followed. ''Can't sell out my secrets to the competition.''

''Competition? Dude, were you're teamates,'' Ace chimed in, slapping Khalid on the back.

Jordan yanked his shirt off and angrily pulled his practice jersey over his head, the fabric scratching against his skin. This was supposed to be his sanctuary, his domain. He stormed out onto the field, determined to let off some steam.

The sun beat down mercilessly as Coach Roberts blew his whistle, gathering everyone's attention. ''Alright, boys, let's get to work. We've got drills to run and plays to perfect. I want to see some hustle out there!''

They started with sprints, the pounding of their feet on the turf a rhythmic thunder. Jordan pushed himself hard, his muscles straining as he sprinted back and forth, trying to outrun his frustration. But every time he glanced over, there was Khalid, keeping pace effortlessly, his long strides eating up the distance.

Next came the agility drills, weaving between cones and dodging imaginary opponents. Jordan's feet moved with practiced precision, but Khalid seemed to float through the obstacles, his movements smooth and fluid. It was infuriating.

"Keep it up, Harrington!" Coach shouted. "Good job, Stricker!"

The praise felt hollow to Jordan, overshadowed by Khalid's effortless performance. They moved on to tackling drills, and Jordan threw himself into it with a fury, slamming into the tackling dummies with all his might. But Khalid matched him blow for blow, his hits solid and sure.

By the time they moved to passing drills, Jordan's frustration was a palpable thing, simmering just beneath the surface. He launched the football with pinpoint accuracy, the ball spiraling through the air, but every time it seemed Khalid was there, catching it with ease, his hands sure and steady.

"Nice catch, Harrington!" Coach called, a rare smile on his face.

Jordan's heart sank. Coach Mitchell barely ever smiled. And here he was, smiling for the second time, because of him. The admiration in his eyes as he watched Khalid was a knife twisting in Jordan's gut. He gritted his teeth and threw the ball harder, pushing himself to the limit, but Khalid was always there, always ready.

When practice finally ended, sweat poured down Jordan's hairline. He brushed the soaked blonde strands back from his face, his chest heaving. He felt worse than he had before practice, his frustration now a heavy weight in his chest.

Khalid lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and Jordan's eyes were drawn to the small stretch of skin that showed when his shirt lifted. The smooth, tan skin glistened with sweat, muscles rippling beneath. Jordan swallowed hard, a strange flutter in his chest that he quickly dismissed.

"Good job out there, Stricker," Khalid said, walking over and patting him on the back before heading to the showers.

Jordan stood there in disbelief, his mind reeling. Was Khalid taunting him? The sincerity in his voice made it hard to tell, but Jordan couldn't shake the feeling that Khalid was mocking him, flaunting his effortless success. His fists clenched at his sides, the frustration and anger swirling inside him like a storm.

Coach Roberts called out, breaking him from his thoughts. "Alright, hit the showers, boys! Good hustle today!"

As his teammates whooped and cheered, congratulating Khalid on keeping up well on his first day, Jordan stalked off to the locker room, his mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The sight of Khalid wiping sweat from his forehead, the easy confidence with which he moved, it all gnawed at Jordan. The smell of sandalwood lingered in the air, a reminder of the boy who had turned his world upside down.

He stripped off his gear, the cold tile of the locker room floor a stark contrast to the heat of the field. The sound of the showers running, the laughter and banter of his teammates, it all felt distant, like he was in a different world. He couldn't shake the image of Khalid, the effortless way he had excelled at everything, the way he had stolen the attention and admiration of everyone around him.

Jordan stepped into the shower, the cold water shocking against his overheated skin. He closed his eyes, letting the water wash away the sweat and grime, but it couldn't wash away the frustration and anger. It clung to him, a heavy weight on his shoulders.

As he stood under the spray, he couldn't help but think about the strange flutter in his chest when he had seen Khalid's skin, the unsettling feeling when their eyes had met. It was all too much, too confusing. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but Khalid's presence lingered, a constant reminder of the upheaval in his life.

When he finally stepped out of the shower, he felt no relief, only a simmering anger and a gnawing confusion. He dressed quickly, avoiding his teammates' eyes, not wanting to see the admiration and excitement that he knew would be there. He needed to clear his head, to find some way to make sense of everything that was happening.

As he left the locker room, the sound of his teammates' laughter followed him, a haunting echo that only fueled his frustration. Khalid Harrington was everywhere, and nowhere at once. Jordan couldn't escape him. He walked out into the cool evening air, his mind a storm of anger, confusion, and a strange, unfamiliar longing that he couldn't quite understand.