BEAUTIFUL MISTAKES

1

Sean

The professor drones on and on about Faust. Learning about some dead poet is not on my to-do list...ever. But yet, here I sit, listening to the most monotone lecture I've ever endured.

And I'm doing it sober.

Does football really mean this much to me? Do I really want to endure another four years of learning things I'll never use?

Fuck this shit.

Shoving my book in my bag, I get up and leave the classroom. The professor doesn't even look up, yet one more reason to leave. Why bother if he doesn't care?

I love football. I'm good at it, but I hate school. Always have. The only reason I'm here to begin with is because of someone else.

I'd gotten a full paid football scholarship to Penn State, shocking both me and my brother. He'd gone behind my back and started sending out highlight reels to top schools, never expecting to hear back from anyone, but when Penn State graduated their entire back field, they came calling.

And I'm getting to play. Most freshmen warmed the bench, but Coach put me in when the starting wide receiver got injured and I'd been playing since.

When Dobbs comes back, I fully expect to get parked on the bench again, though. Two of the assistants were talking about it and I'd over-heard them. Maybe that's part of why I'm so disgusted. I love the game and I'm going to get benched.

Fuck that shit.

I'm done.

"This fucking sucks. I should never have come. I hate this fucking place!"

I blink several times, seeing the girl sitting on the bench swearing worse than my brother. She's taller than most girls. I can tell by how long her legs are where they're sticking out, threatening to trip anyone who passes by her. Dark brown hair glints honey gold highlights where the sun hits it when she tugs on the ponytail. Her eyes are blue, but they're a dark blue and snapping fire as she dares someone to say anything to her.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?"

Her eyes snap to me and they narrow further.

"What the fuck isn't wrong?"

Despite my own need to escape, I find myself walking over and sitting down next to her. "It's not ninety degrees yet."

"Shit." Her head falls back onto the bench and she stares up at a perfectly cloudless blue sky. "Don't say that, you're going to jinx it and I have to sit through math in a room where the AC doesn't work."

"I'm Sean Riggins."

She shrugs and mutters something I can't hear.

"It's polite to introduce yourself."

"I don't want to be polite." She sits up and rolls her neck. "I need a drink."

"I'm right there with you, sweetheart. Want to go get drunk?"

"Can't."

"Skip class."

"No, it's not that. I don't care about math. I'm diabetic. I literally can't drink. All the sugar would send me into a diabetic coma."