Don't Throw Away Your Shot

1. Yo! I'm John Laurens in the Place to be!

Laurens POV

I hopped off the black motorbike, my feet finding the cold tar of the road beneath me. The bike hummed loudly behind me, making my headache worsen. I shrugged off my helmet, my curls bouncing up once more. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my boyfriend smirk at the mess, making me consciously run a hand through my hair. I handed him the helmet wordlessly, scowling. I leaned on the bike for a moment, breathing slowly and putting two fingers to my forehead, hoping to relive some of the pain.

"What's wrong babe?" he questioned me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I tried to shrug it off.

"Nothing's wrong, it's just....I just," my headache continued to worsen, "...it's nothing. Don't worry about it." I threw him a weak smile and grabbed my bag from the back and slung it over a shoulder. Before I turned to leave, his hand jerked me back and he landed a kiss on my forehead. I smiled and waved, before running down the path. I could hear him turn around and speed off down the street.

I didn't bother to look back as I entered my house, smiling. My headache seemed to cease for the moment. I looked around, sighing, and dropped my bag onto the nearby couch. The room was eerily quiet even though my parents should've been home by now. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. I held it over the sink, letting the butterflies in my stomach settle.

I suddenly heard a crash behind me, making me drop the glass into the sink. I turned around to see my father in the doorway, fuming. His fists were clenched around something.

Well my headache is back now. Thanks pops.

I walked towards him, my palms starting to sweat. He met me halfway across the room. He took a deep breath.

"John, we just found out about your recent...relations."

Oh shit.

"And after some quick consideration, your mother and I have decided that we will disown you if you do not cease any and all connections with this boy." My father spit the last word, glaring down at me with hard and scornful eyes. He loomed over me despite being the same height.

I glanced at the letter in his father's clenched fist. The hell? Who even sends letters anymore?

"Whatever, I hate that idiot anyway," I growled, half truthfully, crossing my arms and averting my gaze to the floor. I knew that I shouldn't be short with my father, it never turns out well.

"When I talk you keep eye contact with me, boy," my father hissed. Reluctantly I met his gaze fully, his eyes burning with rage. I could feel his wrath smothering me, making me feel slightly claustrophobic. "You better break up with that boy before you move tomorrow." My father turned to leave but I roughly grabbed his shoulder.

"Move? Tomorrow?!" I asked, fear tingeing my anger filled voice. My eyes met his again. Even though I was a stubborn jock and was meant to take things head on, I couldn't bear to think about meeting new people. And my anxiety didn't help in any case. My half-ass parents were seemingly oblivious to my often panic attacks.

"We are moving you to a school that seemingly fixes any of your type, according to some good friends," He motioned to the letter. I didn't bother to ask who it was from, I had a hunch. "Dinner will be at 6:30. Join us or don't, I don't care."

With that he left, taking the letter with him. I stared after him, realisation sinking in. My gaze settled on empty space as he rounded the corner, leading to his bedroom. I stood there for some time, my fists clenched in rage. I could feel my figure shaking with fear for my father and future. When I awoke from my daze I glanced at the clock on the wall, 4:12; I was out for almost half an hour.