Basketball: BTS Yoongi ff

Part 7

So, yeah. I don't like Yoongi very much.

At first, I was willing to let his little comment slide due to the fact that he is attractive in a bad-boy sort of way. He seemed at least a little nice at first. I was hoping that when he saw how serious I was about playing on this team that he would cut me some slack.

No such luck. He continuously criticizes my being there, his calculative eyes seeming to pierce me like knifes. I don't know what his problem with me is, but if he doesn't shut his mouth I might go crazy. I absolutely hate his attitude, his condescending tone driving me to the brink of insanity. I hate whenever he opens his mouth because all that comes out of it are harsh insults and taunting comments.

I had immediately been tested on my dribbling skills, going around the cones that the coach set up in front of me. Dribbling and shooting, the main points of the game, are my strong points. I have been working really hard on my handles, and my three point shot has gotten incredibly good. It's to the point where I don't even have to think about it, my body just going through the motions and making it in. I do need to work on being more aggressive in the paint though. I'm not usually that close to the basket, but when I am I need to learn how to be more fierce if I'm going to make it on a guy's team.

"Hey, watch out!"

I gasp as I fall forward, someone bumping into me from behind. My eyes widen as the floor gets closer and closer to my face, my arms automatically coming out to try and catch my fall. An unbelievable amount of pain shoots through my left arm as it makes contact with the hard court, taking the brunt of the force and weight. I don't cry or make any noise to indicate that I am hurt, just cradling my throbbing arm to my chest protectively. I know from experience that showing pain is a sign of weakness, and I can't afford to seem weak right now.

Despite everyone being nothing but mean towards me today, I hear several of the guys asking me if I am ok. They must have seen how awkwardly I had landed and how hard I had hit the ground. I'm just lucky that my arm doesn't feel broken. That and the fact that it was my left arm and not my shooting arm. That would have sucked. I wave off the two guys that came over to help me up, determine to do it all by myself. I'm not going show them how much it hurts.

"Move out of the way."

I hiss in pain as Yoongi bumps into my side, my already injured arm getting jarred pretty badly. I grit my teeth and glare heatedly at the nonchalant team captain, my rage for him growing.

"Yah! What was that for?" I yell as I hold onto my arm as it throbs with pain. Wether he did it on purpose or not, he should still apologize. He turns to me slowly, his eyes showing no remorse or guilt for what he just did.

"If you can't handle the pain, get off the fucking court."

My mouth drops open as I watch him leave, my eyes glaring daggers at his retreating back. He simply goes back to the scrimmage that he and some of the players had been having, leaving me to stand in front of the coach in an even fouler mood than I was already in.

"Are you sure you want to continue with shooting Bohemian?"

Even the asshole of a coach seems to be sympathetic and worried about me. That just pisses me off. Why are they acting like this just because I am a girl? I can handle the pain. I can handle whatever they throw at me. You know what, bet. I'll show them; I'll show them all.

"I'm fine coach. I can do this."