What They Don't Know

Chapter Eight

"Ashton, where have you been?" Coach asks me, his hard stare not even phasing me today. I have no intentions of telling him where I was an hour ago, I just brush past him and go into the field. Looking at the bleachers, I see Lana and her posse of cheerleaders sitting on the lowers bench.

Kyle's hand waves in front of my face as he asked, "Ash? Are you okay?" I smack it away and search the sea of male bodies on the field until I lay eyes upon him. Nodding my head to answer Kyle, I crack my neck and grip my lacrosse stick.

"Good as gold." Grinning, I run out to the middle of the field. "Let's go!" I yell, getting all the guys hyped up as someone throws the ball. After we all realize it is in the air, it was a figurative blood bath; thank god we had padding or else we'd all be going to the hospital. As everyone plays every man for himself, I sought after one guy. Number 5 is running after Eric Shawman , who currently possesses the ball.

Sprinting at full force, I tackle number 5 and hold him down with the stick across his back. Picking it up, I smash it into his back. He lets out a small groan of pain but before I know it, he had turned us over, him now on top of me. He rips off his helmet and looks at me with his big water filled eyes. "What the fuck, Hart?!"

"Just playing the game, Luc." I chuckle, feeling the anger I let simmer in me for too long come out in my sinister chuckle which turns into a cackle. He runs a hand through his hair as Coach blows his whistle, signalling all of us to stop the death match. A death match during practice was only called when someone had beef with another person on the team. With all of us pointlessly fighting, the real fighting was covered up so those two wouldn't get benched. The code was 'Let's go'.

"Get to the locker room, pansies. I don't want to see your faces for the weekend." He screamed, dismissing all of us. As I push Luc off of me and leave for the locker room, Coach grabs me by my collar. "50 laps around the field, Hart. Think of it as a makeup for the hour of practice you missed." He winks, pushing me towards the field. I turn around to protest but he was already halfway to the building.

Exhaling hard, I start on my first lap 'round the field. An hour passes as I make my way around the huge rectangle for the thirty-eighth time. Stopping for a second to catch my breath, a water bottle is tossed at my feet. Looking up as I was bent over with my hands on my knees, I see Luc in sweats, giving me a sheepish smile.

I pick up the cold bottle and chug the water. After finishing it, I glare at him, still not forgiving all the shit he's pulled this week since... since he told me I was a mistake. "What?"

"Can I have a sec?" He gestures to the grass under me, sitting next to me. I reluctantly comply, sitting down as I finally feel like my heart wasn't going to give out. He takes a deep breath and looks down in his lap. "I messed everything up."

"No shit, Sherlock." I laugh sarcastically, feeling like this conversation was going downhill.

"No, Ash. I mean, I really, really fucked up." His voice breaks on the last word. There was something about hearing a person's voice break that made you feel so sad. It's like you could hear the hurt they were feeling. "I said so many things to you this past week that were so uncalled for. I hurt your feelings with no excuse. I did it out of spite and no words can express how sorry I am for it, man." 

He can't really think that this is gonna make everything better. He has called me so many names, ignored me, bullied me and punched me this past week; plus he broke my heart. Nothing was okay. "You don't get to do this Luc. You don't get to hurt me and then think that saying sorry will fix it." I seethe, jolting up to run away. He sees right through me though, and gets up, enveloping me in a bear hug. His grip is so tight, I think I might get bruises.