Some Things You Can't Control

13: What Happened To Your Face?

Chapter 13

What Happened To Your Face?

- AIDEN BOYD -

"That was a shitty performance." Coach's voice easily reverberates throughout the silent locker room. Despite his blunt words, no one makes an effort to disagree- there is no better way to sum up the first half of our game.

Coach sighs, running a hand down his face. "We lost Dawson due to a sprained ankle, so I'm going to have to shift up our defence. I don't know what has gotten into you boys tonight, but at the rate you're going, we're going to lose our undefeated winning streak.

"We worked fucking hard for that- each and every person in this room has contributed towards it. I want you guys to put up a fight. I want to see determination. Commitment. Effort. Get your shit together and take back the game. We're not out of it yet. Got it?"

There's a low murmur of response. Coach then turns away and begins talking over our positions with his assistant, allowing the team to have a few minutes to breathe.

"Boyd, heads up," Brody calls as he throws me a water bottle.

"Cheers," I tell him, taking a drink before pulling my shirt over my head. I raise the water bottle, tipping it upside down and letting its cold contents spill over my heated skin. 

"Boyd, you're dragging the team down."

At this, I look up to see Dylan standing in front of me, meeting his challenging stare with one of my own.

Before I learnt how much of a dick this kid is, I used to take his words on board and push myself to do better; to not 'drag the team down'. But when I started to hear the same thing every game- even when we were winning- I decided it was bullshit.

Everything he says is bullshit.

Smith and I have always despised each other, and that won't ever change. Every game, every practice, I have to refrain from punching him in the face. I can't deal with the stupid words that seem to never-endingly spill from his mouth.

It still comes as a shock to me that Eden used to date this guy. She must have not been feeling well for a really long while there if she thought she saw something good in this asshole.

"Fuck off, Smith," I respond off-handedly, "I don't need your bullshit."

"And we don't need you as our captain, yet you're still here."

Do.

Not.

Punch.

Him.

I casually lean my shoulder against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. "If you've got no reason to be over here, please leave."

"I'm asking my captain," he drawls, "if he can stop ruining our chance at making it to finals this year."

"Watch what you say, Smith," I warn.

"You let them intercept the ball too many times in that half and you've been fucking slow. Either their QB really has improved, or you're just shittier than even I had thought."

"You seem to forget that I've scored four touchdowns and have helped to move the ball down the field numerous times." I stand up to my full height, a few inches above his own, and stare him straight in the eyes. "My question is what have you done?"

"You act like you're above me-" he snarls. I look at the height gap between us and can't help but think that I am above him. Literally. "- And now you're actually trying to steal my girl."