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𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 chapter three
The stadium buzzed with excitement on the first night of the game, a palpable energy coursing through the crowd like an electric current as Celeste made her way through the throng of cheering fans. It was an atmosphere of anticipation, the smell of popcorn and hot dogs wafting through the air, mingling with the chill of the evening breeze. She had introduced herself to Chris Argent, Allison's father, who had come to support Scott. He was a tough man with a hard exterior that suggested he had seen his fair share of battles, but Celeste couldn't help but notice the softer undercurrent of love he held for his daughter. The pride that shone in his eyes whenever he mentioned Allison felt almost palpable, a testament to the close-knit bond between father and daughter. As they settled into their seats, Chris's intensity was tempered by the warmth of their shared experience, a father watching his child flourish.
Lydia, who had sprinted off to "torment" Scott somewhere on the field. Just as she was about to settle in, Lydia returned, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. "Scott, I just want you to remember one thing tonight," she said, her voice serious, as she tugged on Scott's jersey.
"Uh, winning isn't everything?" Scott guessed, his brow furrowed in concentration, though the slight nervousness in his voice indicated he wasn't entirely sure of himself.
"Close, but no," Lydia retorted, flicking her hair back with a confident smirk. "Nobody likes a loser." With that, she strode off toward her friends and their fathers, leaving a slightly bewildered Scott in her wake.
As the game kicked off, the atmosphere reached a fever pitch. Celeste cheered loudly with every point scored, her excitement palpable as the team raced up and down the field. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, each play igniting her spirit. But as the first half unfolded, she began to notice a disturbing trend: Scott wasn't getting the ball. Frustration simmered within her, a knot forming in her stomach as she exchanged concerned glances with Allison, who was nervously biting her lip from the bleachers.
When halftime arrived, the players huddled together, and Celeste caught snippets of their conversation. The captain's voice rose above the din as he laid out his plans. "Remember, don't pass to McCall," he instructed.
"Which one is Scott again?" Chris asked, his brow furrowed with confusion as he tried to spot his daughter's boyfriend among the mass of jerseys.
"Number 11. Otherwise known as the only one who hasn't caught a single ball the entire game," Lydia scoffed, her concern for Scott evident beneath her teasing facade.
