Perfectly Imperfect 1

33- Oh, Brother!

CAL:

“Well...I’m glad he didn’t over react,” I mutter sarcastically, running a hand through my hair.

Kayla stares at Aiden’s retreating figure, looking as if she just saw a ghost.

I cup her jaw and tilt her face up and gently press my lips against hers, wanting to get back to where we were before Aiden rudely interrupted us. But Kayla just stands there, motionless.

“Umm, Kayla... I kinda feel like I’m kissing the back of my own hand,” I hint.

She shakes her head, her cheeks colouring a little. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re really adorable when you space out you know?” I whisper, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears.. “What time is it?”

“Half past three,” she mumbles distractedly.

“Oh shit!” I mutter, already dashing for the field.

“Cal! What the heck?!” she demands.

“I’m late! So freaking late! Meet me at the bleachers at four thirty! I’ll send you home!” I shout already pulling off my t-shirt. Coach is going to have my head!

***

“Good job everyone!” coach murmurs encouragingly. “Now hit the showers!” 

I groan, flexing my sore shoulders. I really must make sure to warm up before practice next time.

“Superstar! Over here,” coach calls as I’m walking with the rest of the team towards the locker room.

I shoot him a questioning look and jog over. “What’s up coach?” I ask.

“You were late superstar. I don’t put up with that kind of behaviour. Sure you remember,” he murmurs seriously.

“Yes... I’m sorry coach. I completely lost track of time,” I mumble.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again, superstar. I’m not going to show any preferential treatment, son. You were half an hour late, I need you to do fifty sit ups and then you can leave.”

“Fifty?! Are you serious?!” I groan, I can already feel my muscles hurt.

“If any of the boys were half an hour late, they would do twenty-five sit ups. But superstar, you’re the quarterback and very soon the captain. I need you to be a good example. Fifty sit ups,” he repeats, walking away.

Kayla skips towards me, down the bleachers, smiling happily. “You smell!” she greets.

“Thanks,” I mutter sourly. I sit on the ground and begin doing my sit-ups.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you done for the day?” she asks, watching me funnily.

“I was half an hour late. Coach wants me to do fifty sit ups and then I can leave,” I mutter through my gritted teeth as I do another sit up.

“Fifty?! That’s crazy!” she exclaims.

“No, it’s all for discipline’s sake,” I respond. “You can take my keys and drive home if you want. I’ll just walk back to my hotel later on.”

“Why?” she asks curiously.

“I don’t want you to have to wait for me,” I mumble simply.

“Dork! Of course I’m waiting with you!” she insists stubbornly.

“Wanna do some sit-ups?” I tease, already doing sit up number 10.

“No thanks!” she quickly responds, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.