gentleman-- j.m.b

ocho

There was no need to pack any reading books back into my school bag; I wasn't using any for the first time in ever.

Instead, I had watched Joey train for an hour, and watched him kick more than what seemed like fifty goals in a row. I didn't even get bored, which was surprising. In fact, I was more intrigued than anything.

I didn't know how good he was until I watched him. But with such a genuine personality like his, I wonder why he's on the football team. He was nothing like the stereotype of the jock.

As we walked together down the path that was next to the field, we talked about all types of things.

"So why do you seem so quiet when you're actually really sweet?" He asks, and I smile, looking down at my shoes as we walked.

"Why are you a footballer when you're actually so sweet?" I challenge him, and he looks at me, curious.

"Well... You answer first," he says.

"I don't know. I'm not the type of person to be so open to people... Because of what's happened," I explain. "I used to be popular, at my old school. But then I moved and people didn't really like me..."

My voice trailed off as I thought about the difference of who I am, and who I used to be.

Wow... I've changed.

I used to wear a tonne of makeup, and have a lot of acne. I used to wear revealing clothing, and get in trouble a lot. A heap of boyfriends, parties, drugs and drinking was in my daily life.

But now... Glasses, clear skin, I take care of myself. I've been sober from drinking and weed for over a year. I mean, I've never smoked weed firsthand; I was always the second hand smoker.

I haven't touched foundation for months. Concealer maybe, if I have a really bad pimple. But not ever, any other time.

And my clothing? Stylish, and still appropriate.

"What about you?" I ask, making sure he doesn't squirm out of this one.

"Well... I don't know. I mean, I do. You wouldn't judge me if I told you?" He says, hesitant and nervous.

"Of course not. I'm not like that," I answer, listening in.

"When my dad was still around we used to play a lot of football, and I still do with my step father, Drew. But... I don't know, I've always been good at football and-and... It helps me with situations," he says.

"Like what?" I ask curiously.

He seemed a little awkward. "It helps me keep my mind off things. Like, when I'm playing, I don't feel anything sad. I feel excited, energised... I feel... Alive."

He pauses for a second before continuing. "It's stupid."

"I think it's the opposite of stupid," I answer.

"Well the rest of the football team-"

"I don't care what the rest of the football team think," I cut in. "And you shouldn't either."

"They're intimidating, Kate. I'm nothing like them. They're so full of themselves and stupid... They're so stupid. And they're loud and boisterous. I'm nothing like them, and I feel left out half the time," he explains.

"But they love you."

"Yes," he confirms, "they're all a bit gay."

I burst out laughing.

"Especially Charles," he adds, which makes me laugh harder.

"Isn't he your best friend?" I ask, still in giggles.

"Yeah," he replies, "Charles and Chad are the only guys that sort of understand me."

"Fair enough," I shrug.

It's silent for a few seconds.

"So how easily do you trust people?" He asks.

"I used to trust way too easily. Now... Not particularly," I admit.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, looking into my eyes as I look into his.

The sunlight shone on his beautiful hazel and green eyes, as his lips twitched into a small, curious, and cheeky smile.

"I don't know," I answer, and I know he's a little disappointed, but in his eyes I see how determined he is to change my point of view on him.

"Does it make you feel better if I say I trust you?" He asks.

"No," I admit.

"Why not?" He asks, but not demanding. More like curiosity.

"Because I am not you," I shrug.

"Good point," he replies, then begins running ahead of me, then, believe it or not, jumps full-on over a 1 and a half metre high fallen tree trunk, making me gasp.

"Jesus, Joey!" I yell, smiling at how amazingly he dodged that thing.

He comes running back as he replies. "You wanna try?"

"Hell no!"

"C'mon. You can't trust me if you don't try learn," he says.

"What are you asking?" I ask as he approaches me again.

He looks into my eyes, his hair a bit of a mess from running around. In the beautiful sunlight through the trees, sparkled on his face, he looked even more handsome and more human then I'd ever seen him.

We lock eyes as he replies.

"I guess I'm asking you to trust me."

----

I swear every dude and his dog is obsessed with Fortnite...