Brendan's P.O.V

"Brendan!" Celine yelled.

I looked up, startled. 

"You should get going," she said, motioning to the clock. 

"Fuck," I mumbled to myself, grabbing my stuff hurriedly and running out the door. 

I barged into the locker room and my teammates looked my way. 

"Hey man," Tyson yelled from the back of the room. "Thought you weren't going to make it!" 

I barked out a laugh and started changing into my uniform. We joked around and somebody sprayed sickening cologne in the air, which made us all gag.

"Team! Huddle up!" I called at the top of my lungs. All of my teammates gathered around the space of my locker and grunted at the tight fit.

"We are going to win." I told them, firmly and confidently. "We are going to beat those Glenmorons and taste sweet victory once again."

Loud cheering erupted and we all gathered our helmets and walked out onto the field.

We all got into position, facing off our growling opponents. We stole the championship from them last year, and there was no way we would hand it to them on a silver platter.

"Hut," I yelled. The ball was quickly passed to me and I ran backwards swiftly. Raising my arm, I passed the football to Sawyers and he sped up his pace to make a possible touchdown. Everybody watched as he narrowly dodged a player from Glenmoore and threw a short pass to my best friend Tyrone Williams when he was tackled.

Tyrone ran like his life depended on it, the croud cheered wildly and many of our school's cheerleaders did small tricks in the sidelines.

He crossed the end zone and all of us basically screamed in excitement. One touchdown in four minutes, we're breaking records here.

The first half passed by in a blur, and soon a loud buzzer followed by an even louder announcer declared it was half time.

Cheerleaders from both schools excitedly skipped out onto the field, and started their routines. 

I sat on a plastic bench, sipping water from a half empty water bottle, while reaching for a gatorade that'll hopefully energize me for the next round.

Gulping the juice down, I looked up at the stands that held Glenmoore's supporters. The majority of them were sporting red and white, the school's colors. Posters that supported the football team's members were written in bright acrylic paint and decorated with red stickers to glitter and sequins.

A stadium light reflected on one girl's poster, that probably had the world's supply of glitter piled on it, and blinded me for a hot second.

Blinking rapidly, because I didn't necessarily like my eyes burning, many of my friends slapped me on the back muttering compliments. We were trying to preserve our energy for the next half, and we were still a bit exhausted.

I watched our school's cheerleaders perform a crazy in-sync tumbling stunt, and my eyes eventually wandered to the stands filled with Glenmoore students again. Yet, they landed on one specific girl, that I knew for a fact didn't go to Glenmoore.

A girl with long brown locks was leaning down from her place on the bleachers to talk to a guy with dark skin and a muscular figure. She wore a grey sweater, with a denim jacket draped over her shoulders and black jeans. Her hair was covering her face, but I knew exactly who she was. My jaw clenched, the filthy traitor. Fraternizing with the enemy.

Her face was finally revealed when she lifted her head up. A soft jawline and skin the color of caramel, eyes resembling a forest, and a smile with thin, pink lips graced her face.

I felt myself glare, with only one thought in mind. Even if we weren't on the best of terms, I thought Valeria Castillo was on my side. Yet here she was, eye-fucking a guy that caused me to break my ankle in freshman year. A guy that repeatedly taunted me for my supposed "lack of talent." A guy that may not have raped, tortured, or killed someone, but was still a Grade-A dick.

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