Straight-A Agent

Chapter Five: Intoxicated

Hi! Happy Thanksgiving! Even if you didn't celebrate it, I hope you had a great day anyway. I'm so thankful for this break from school because I've been able to write and it's great. And sleep. And hang out with the fam. So yay for no school! Well, I hope you like this chapter - PLEASE comment, that means more to me than votes even, because I love knowing what you guys think and any critique and stuff. I'm always looking to improve my writing. Have a great weekend!

Pic of Noah (Lucas Till) ---->

Gracias! <3 vb12331

Chapter Five: Intoxicated

It didn’t take too long for me to realize that I was out of my depth at the football game.

“Why are they kicking the ball?” was the first thing I’d asked Sam. “I thought you said they threw it.”

“It’s the kickoff, Kat.”

I could tell he was trying not to laugh at me, though he was pretty patient for my first few questions. After about five minutes, I gave up trying to figure out what was going on, mostly because I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of Becca and Jessie, who luckily hadn’t heard my first dumb questions.

Still, though I knew nothing about the game of football, I could tell that Noah had considerable talent. The ball flew across the field whenever he threw it, right on target. When he decided to run with the ball – another thing I didn’t understand – his feet danced between defensive players with ease. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he was doing it well.

When halftime came around, I thought the game was over until Sam explained it to me. I couldn’t believe that the game was supposed to go on for another couple hours while we stood with our hands stuffed in our pockets from the chilly night air. I began to wish I’d worn more than just an old sweatshirt.

It didn’t help that Sam was crazy restless, practically bouncing from foot to foot as we stood in the bleachers. At halftime, he muttered something about using the bathroom and tugged me with him as he left the stands.

“You okay?” I asked, huddling in my sweatshirt as we leaned against the wall of the concessions building.

“I’m fine.” He blew out through his mouth. “I just hate watching like that.”

“I thought you liked football.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Not like that. I love a game of football just as much as the next guy, especially when Noah’s playing, ‘cause he’s so good. I just don’t like being in those bleachers watching him from a hundred meters away. It makes me nervous.”

I thought about that a moment, then said, “It’s not like you live with him. How do you deal with that separation?”

The sarcasm wasn’t intended, but he still gave me a sour look. “I’m fine with it when I know he’s at his apartment with other agents living above and below him. He’s not in danger there. I hate things like this, with big crowds and so much opportunity.”