The Alpha's Kitten // discontinued

| The Risky Bet |

Allison Braidford
Friday, November 20th

I swiped my arm across my forehead, wiping away the gleaming beads of sweat that had collected on my forehead. The blue team had stepped up their game and we were lost without Xander.

Speaking of, Xander looked absolutely miserable sitting on the rusty bench. You could practically see his joy withering away. Even though he wasn't allowed to talk to us (to prevent cheating), he kept making faces at me, lifting my spirits.

The score was 11:12.

We were the former. The red team was trying their hardest, but Zach was reigning a stream of terror upon us and the coach moved Liam to the blue team. That only one good person on offense: Mia. Mia is a great player, but Liam and Zach reigned true terror upon our struggling team. Not to mention, Dylan kept taunting our team by calling us lazy pigs who can't do shit. He was already on my last nerve and Mia and Jasper were the only thing holding me back.

I finally had enough and stepped to the line dividing our territories. Before I could call Dylan over so I can give him a piece of my mind, Chelsea and her minions invade my personal space with their strong perfume scents. Andrea stood behind Chelsea, trying to fit in with them without getting in their way.

"What do you want, slut? I was thinking of asking you if you were going to the dance tonight, but then I realized people like you don't go social events. What a shame, such a hot guy like Xander hanging around a person like...you," Chelsea spits.

"Oh Chelsea, your insults are almost as weak as your bleached hair looks. Do you clump your lashes on purpose, or are they just naturally stupid-looking?" I question. Chelsea's mouth widens at my retaliation and she puffs in anger.

"Don't be so mad, Braidford. Just because I got to first base with Xander before you in the clinic doesn't mean you have the right to insult me. You better keep your mouth shut, before I get Dylan to shut it for you. He may have been no match for my boyfriend, but he would have a grand old time smashing your hideous face in," she says. I was fuming and my anger was only Chelsea's fuel.

The first time Chelsea mentioned doing something with Xander in the clinic, I brushed it off because I had bigger things to worry about, like Xander being furious at me. But her calling Xander her boyfriend was a mile too far. I know it isn't true, but it really hurts to hear something like that. If I had a knife in my hand, it would be lodged in Chelsea's throat by now.

"That would be the case...if Xander was into orange bimbos with a 1.6 GPA. Xander wouldn't stoop as low as to even make skin to skin contact with you, Kenneth. Don't even think about insulting me. I have so much dirt on you that if I were to tell someone, you would have a hard time getting into a Community College," I say.

"Oh yeah? Like what? Speak up, nerd," I could practically hear her walls breaking down.

"I know that you were the one who almost drowned Margie Chandler in the girls' bathroom in 7th grade and landed her in a coma for almost two years. Good thing she has slight amnesia when she woke up and couldn't remember who stuffed her head in the toilet for a solid 5 minutes," I whispered. I watch the blood drain from her face and I smirk, "Don't. Mess. With. Me."

I strut off, leaving Chelsea dumbfounded in my tracks, and stand near the bench that Xander is standing by. His ankle looks totally healed, considering most of his weight was balanced on his 'injured' foot.

I turn my back to him and discretely talk to him. "Looks like you faked the injury, Blade. What a wimp. Was the game getting to difficult for you?" I mock in a babyish tone.

"Please. No human could survive a fall like that and not injure anything. No, I'm just a really fast healer," I could hear the cockiness in his voice.

"Sure, Jan. Thanks to your dramatic self, we are going to lose. Thanks," I say.

"Oh come on. You can totally save the team. Or are you too high maintenance to get your hands dirty. Don't answer, I already know the answer," he signs dramatically. He knows fully well how to push my many buttons.

"The fuck you mean by that, Xander? I can fully well score points and save our team," I sneer. I turn around and walk closer to him and raising my voice. Who cares if the coach yells at us?

He sighs again, "Well if you're so sure your natural ability, how about we wager that kiss back? If you score the winning point, I give you twenty bucks. If you don't and your team loses, I get a kiss. On. The. Lips. Then you have to go to the Senior party with me tonight," he says smoothly. I gulp. I didn't NOT want to kiss him, but I didn't want him to know that.

I can do this. You can do this, Allison. Do it to prove Dylan, Chelsea and Andrea wrong.

I read out my hand to him.

"You have a deal, Blade," then we shook on it.