Hit 'Em Where it Hurts ♕ Dancers

02 | allen

It only took her half an hour to get to the oval.

Which turned out to be just around the corner and down a bit.

Jaycee decided right then and there that she was never going to do anything in life that involved directions and navigation.

But she did make it to the park, no matter how long it took, so she was pretty proud of herself.

As a warm up, she ran a circle of the oval, kicking the soccer ball. It wasn't a huge one - really, it was on the smaller side, probably used for peewee games. There were soccer goals set up, which was always good. Trees lined the edges of it, almost growing right on top of the black game lines that had been printed into the grass, which had to be some sort of health hazard. Jaycee just managed to stay standing as her foot caught on one of the roots and her ball went flying.

She stopped running, jogging into the middle of the field to grab her ball, it hadn't gone too far across the oval. Managing to catch it with her foot just before the halfway line, Jaycee hovered the ball of her sneaker over the top and used ones of the multiple hair ties on her wrist to throw her sun-lightened blonde hair up into a ponytail. She never went anywhere without hair ties, because they had a habit of snapping on her and she generally disliked having her thick hair flapping around over her face and settling on her back when she could help it.

Separating her newly-done ponytail, she twisted the two pieces around her hands and pulled it tight, before rolling her neck. Taking her foot off the ball, she took a step back and lined herself up to make a shot for the goal. It was over half a field away, but Jaycee had complete faith in her kicking abilities.

Stepping forward, she hit the back of the ball with instep of her right food with a smack. It flew up into the air on diagonal angle, though she'd kicked it slightly too much to the left. Not running after it, Jaycee titled her body to the right, as if the ball would obey her movements.

It arced down, just entering the goal, right next to the white side pole. Jaycee pumped an arm up into the air and let out a whoop, about to run and get it.

"Wow, that was amazing," a male voice deadpanned from behind. Jaycee flipped around, her ponytail smacking her in the face in the process. "Definitely worth a victory dance-" Jaycee self consciously lowered her still raised fist. Sure, the kick hadn't been anything spectacular, but she hadn't been able to practise for days. "Totally not like my grandma couldn't do that in her sleep, and with better technique. And my grandma's in a wheelchair."

Jaycee put a hand on her hip, inspecting the boy. He was around her age, and rather reminded her of Edward Cullen from the Twilight movies: rather deep set eyes, pale skin and a look of permanent dissatisfaction scrawled upon his face. He, like her, was wearing a soccer shirt, though her's was a ripoff of the Chicago Red Stars, and his looked to be for a school team. "I'd like to see you any better."

He dropped the soccer ball he'd been holding under his arm, quickly lining himself up. Taking another step backwards, he launched into a run, sending the ball sailing towards the net.

Jaycee watched in silence as it bounced on what had to be exactly the goal line, rolling right into the net and settling down next to hers.

He smirked at her, and she resisted the urge to scowl. He'd probably been playing all morning and was properly warmed up, whereas she'd just taken her first shot in three days. Plus, his kicking technique was no better than her own, so it really pissed her off that he'd commented on that. "Let me know if you ever want to learn how to properly kick a ball."

This time, Jaycee actually scowled. The American soccer world was full of self righteous idiots, mainly of the male species, who liked to think they were all high and mighty when really they were nothing special. This guy was probably just another one of them; Jaycee had been dealing with them her whole life. Still, she couldn't help but be annoyed. "I'll tell you what I will kick. . ." She muttered under her breath, to which he looked pleasantly amused at.

He looked her up and down, raking his eyes over her body, a completely different look in his eyes. Ew. "Are you new here?" He demanded, now seeming to take an interest in her. "I don't recognise you."

Jaycee begrudgingly nodded. "Unfortunately." Then for good measure, because she really didn't like him, "I was hoping Mesa wasn't going to be full of sexist idiots, but it looks like that wish's been dashed." Not bothering to wait for a reply, she went to collect her ball.

"Do you know what school you're going to?" He shouted behind her, kicking up his heels and following behind her.

"Hopefully not yours!" Jaycee told him, flipping her head over her shoulder. She ignored him until she reached the goal, grabbing her own ball in her hands. Although she knew it was childish and pretty unwarranted, she kicked his ball in the opposite direction. "Oh whoops," she raised a hand to her chest in mock surprise, juggling her ball in one hand, "My technique is so bad that I accidentally kicked your ball!"

He scowled at her turning around to grab his ball. The back of his shirt had a large white nine printed into the red fabric, along with a set of white letters spelling out what had to be either his first name or his last name - Allen.

Seemingly done with her, he kicked his own ball over to the other half of the field, leaving Jaycee to her own devices.

* * *

Disclaimer: though it is common for me to be a cliche shit, that will not happen in this story because while Parker Allen's also a poor sweetie somewhere inside he's constantly a massive dickhead so just no to the cliche that probably seems like it's going to happen with them falling in love

But I'm also excited for the story to begin because I really like some of the characters I have planned aka Taylor Nunez as the French exchange student who hates Americans and everything else under the sun !!