Feeling Faint (BxB)

Chapter 7

I open my eyes when Ben speaks. "Why don't you come sit in the kitchen while I cook?" He says, biting his lip. "I don't want to leave you out here on the couch by yourself."

I nod my head, and test out my leg by slowly standing up. I stumble a bit at first, not used to supporting my full weight with it. Ben stands next to me, hand floating by my side to catch me if I fall.

"I'm fine now." I tell him, regaining my balance. He raises an eyebrow, but lets me walk to the kitchen unaided. "What are you making?" I ask, rubbing my eyes and plopping onto a stool. "You'll see." He smirks.

Pans have been scattered across the counter, and ingredients are strewn haphazardly. "You're a messy chef." I comment.

He grins. "Just for now. I was looking for a few things to make it extra special." I shake my head, letting a small smile escape. Ben moves around the kitchen chopping and stirring things with a sense of purpose. He seems to be lost to the world around him as his concentration is focused solely on the food he's preparing.

My mind starts to wander as I relax in the comfortable environment of his small but cozy kitchen. How long am I going to be able to fend off my dad? He's surely going to be on someone's back about getting me back to practice, whether it's my own, the coach's, or Ben's dad's.

I keep thinking that maybe I would be able to push through a practice, that maybe the head pains have disappeared, but things keep happening.

I mean, for the past few months I've had migraines on and off, but this is a whole different level of pain. Even if I can hold off my dad, how is the rest of the team going to fare without me?

If Devon thought he needed to warn me about Quint, then obviously a problem has formed. Quint and I had never gotten along that well; he was headstrong and thought he had to be the one in charge or it wouldn't get done correctly.

However, I had hoped all that had changed when we made it to the state championship last season. The whole team had been ecstatic, and spirits around school and on the field had been high. We might have lost the game, but it was a close score and had brought us all closer together.

Everyone believed that this would be the year we'd make it just as far again and this time take the championship title. Our close game had just motivated us to work even harder this year and prove ourselves to everyone.

Although we'd been pushing ourselves in our recent training sessions, I was still worried. The pressure of the title hung on my shoulders; it was what everyone expected of me. They expected me to pull the team to victory, even if my heart wasn't 100% in it. It was strange how things had changed.

Even after the end of the season, my dad had thrown me into off season training, telling me I needed to be at the top of my game if we were going to reach our goal. It was this summer that I started to realize that the goal he'd pushed me towards wasn't my passion.

Sure, I loved the people, the atmosphere. But I didn't want to spend the rest of my life playing football.

I was abruptly interrupted from my thoughts when Ben let out a yelp, racing to the sink. I hopped off the stool and moved over to him, looking over his shoulder. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Burned myself." He mumbled, cursing under his breath. The cool water was on full blast and flowing over his wrist, which was bright red.

Ben winced, clenching his teeth. "Can I do anything?" I asked with concern. He let out a groan. "Not really. Got no one to blame but myself for this one." I looked down at his wrist again. "What exactly happened?" "I was pulling a pan out of the oven and bumped my wrist on the pot I have cooking on the stove."