"Khai, I gotta talk to you right now!" A voice yells after bursting through the doors on the other side of the small arena. "It's Kit, I gotta- I gotta talk!"
Khai takes a very deep breath, hearing the very distinct sound of flip-flops flapping on rubber floor, echoing in the empty practice arena. She glances at Angel and rolls her eyes.
Angel mouths a "What?"
Kit arrives on the bench next to Angel, his chest heaving. "I literally ran from the house to here because-"
"Don't you live in Palo Alto?" Khai interrupts. "We're in San Jose."
"-I left my lucky jock here, have you seen it?"
"What the fuck?" Angel says.
"No, Kit, have you checked all your pockets?" Khai continues, exasperated.
Kit relaxes and lets out a little laugh. He pulls out a wad of off-white fabric from one of his many pockets. "Oh, Khai! You know me so well."
"Fuck," Angel grimaces at the sight and the smell.
"What would you do without me, dear Kitchi Lopes?" Khai teases, waving her hand at him.
"I would lose my jock, that's for sure!" Kit punches her arm.
The two older players share a laugh and Angel cringes and turns away.
"So, uh... How's the Matt-Man?" Kit asks.
Khai inhales, a little too aggressively. She turns, hops the boards, and leaves Kit with Angel.
"What the fuck?" says Angel.
"Wait, who the fuck are you?" Kit says.
YOU ARE READING
ANGEL CHIRPS
Ficção Geral"Angel, you're trying to prove yourself to people who don't care about you." Currently being adapted into a webcomic, check out the story so far on theteamtrauma.com !
