Sometimes, people expected too much.

    Sometimes, people forgot that Kenner was human.

    Just one mistake. One weak pass because his hand hurt. Or maybe it was because he couldn't stop thinking about everything that was happening with him. Maybe, he'd had enough in this past month that he wanted the whole world to stop spinning so he could catch his breath. He wanted to just lie back and close his eyes without being scared that they wouldn't open again. Or he just needed to go far away to the middle of the Pacific and just scream. Everyone needed that every now and then.

    But Kenner couldn't afford that luxury. He was forced to remain in the middle of that invisible black hole, feeling it suck the life force away from him. He woke up in the room that belonged to the cousin he thought he knew. He drove in silence to school when he used to have his best friend in the passenger side, yelling along with Greenday. He had to learn to stop looking around the field during practice to find that one person he trusted.

   He had to realize that he wasn't going to be the same anymore.

    "That was a very straight shot you had, Hawthorne. What happened?"

    As Kenner lay flat against the ground, feeling the effect of the impact from Kory on his shoulders, he squinted up at the coach. Coach Tatum scowled down at him, oblivious to the fact that he was hurt. Did nobody care that he couldn't feel his left arm?

    "This is the semifinals, for Pete's sake!" Tatum signalled for one of the players to come help him up.

    Truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted to get up. He'd have to face nearly twenty people that looked to him to help them secure the State's championship, when all he'd done the whole week was fail. What explanation did he have for that?

    When Trent showed up in front of him, he expected his face to be twisted into a frown. Instead, Trent extended his hand towards Kenner, a sympathetic look on his face.

    That was even worse.

    "Thanks, man," he muttered, letting go of the guy's hand to steady himself. He turned to the coach. "I'm sorry."

    Tatum didn't look pleased. "That's what you've been saying all day, Hawthorne. You've gotta get your head in the game."

    "My head's in the game," Kenner argued.

    "Yeah?" Tatum's voice raised, and his brows furrowed. "Well, start acting like it is. Because right now, you're not even playing good enough to be on the team."

    He couldn't disappoint his team. He knew how hard they worked for this, and he knew that they had to win. It was his duty to carry them to victory.

     The helmet on his head was starting to feel tighter and suddenly, he felt claustrophobic. Reaching up, he took it off and hung his head down. "I'm sorry, coach. I'll do better. I just... I have a lot going on in my head. Plus, my left arm hurts."

    "Yeah, suck it up," Tatum replied, nonchalantly. "Everyone's hurting somewhere. The whole world won't stop rotating because you lost your best friend. My advice to you? Suck it up. Clear your head and put all that anger in the game."

   "I---"

   "Or else we'll lose. And it'll be all because you can't complete a simple pass." Tatum stood in front of him long enough to let his words sink in, before he turned away and yelled to everyone that practice was over.

   Kenner heaved a deep sigh, then headed to the sidelines. He could hear the guys murmuring amongst themselves as they walked in small groups. No doubt he was the topic of their discussion and for once he wasn't upset that people were talking behind his back. He deserved it, considering how bad he'd played all day.

    He arrived at the sidelines, alone and tired. The only things he managed to achieve were aches all over and a broken arm. He took a seat on one of the benches, then reached out into a cooler for a bottle of water. As he unscrewed the caps, his eyes drifted to the side and landed on the cheerleaders. They'd broken up for the day and had begun to head out. Kenner even noticed some of his teammates in the midst of the girls.

   But Kenner didn't have to search too long before his eyes met Riley's. She was swinging her Couture bag over her shoulders, her sneakers in her other hand. The black and white cheerleader costume she had on did her curves good, showing off how much Riley had grown since Kenner had last seen her. Which was weird. Why exactly was he checking her out?

   As if she could hear his thoughts, her lips stretched into a big smile and she began to come over to where he was. He wasn't sure it was appropriate to just watch her walk to him, so he focused on downing the water in the bottle.

    "Hey Ken," she greeted casually, positioning herself in front of him. He looked up to see her smiling down at him, arms crossed. "Bad game day?"

    He sighed, running his hand through his wet-with-sweat hair. "I'm letting the guys down."

    A frown crossed her face and she took a seat beside him. "Don't say that. You're the best player on that team. You're probably just having a bad day."

    "Yeah," he sniggered, raising the bottle to his lips. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her watching him. It was all so weird, because he had suddenly lost interest in the fact that he was failing at the one thing he was good at, and was focusing on Riley. A sweet smell of lavender floated in the air around her, with a hint of coconut oil.

   Did she still put coconut oil in her hair?

   Her heard her giggle softly. "Yes, it's very good."

   His head immediately snapped towards her, his eyes sparkling. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

   Riley laughed again, then reached forward to push his wet, clumpy hair out of his face. A small smile crept to his lips, and he raised his eyes to meet her bright, grey ones. She truly was a thing of beauty. He couldn't deny that.

    "So..." he trailed off, fumbling with the cap of the bottle. "You're going home?"

   What kind of stupid ass question was that?

   "Yeah," she replied. "I'll just call my driver. You know, I'm not a free person anymore."

   Oh, he'd forgotten that she was 'famous' now. She couldn't walk or drive herself home anymore. He wondered what that felt like. Did she feel like everyone expected her to do things a certain way? To always be perfect?

   'Cause that was how he felt.

   "Well..." he got to his feet and reached for his duffel bag that had been lying on the ground. "I should get going."

    She joined him on her feet, and for a moment, he thought he saw a disappointed look on her face. It wasn't like he didn't want to stay and talk with her, he just didn't know what to talk about. He was aware that they had a spark, from what they had before, and he didn't want to be the one to light the fire.

   As a matter-of-fact, he didn't want any fire lit. Period.

   "So, I'll see you... whenever we meet," he concluded, and was about to leave when she stopped him.

    "How about tonight at Rowan's?" She stared back at him, eyes wide with eagerness. Kenner simply stared back for a while, wondering why things wouldn't just go his way. What was he supposed to say? No?

    That'd be too blunt and rude.

    Yes? He'd sound desperate. And he didn't want to send her the wrong message.

   "I'll think about it," he replied. "I'll call you if I'll come."

    She seemed to be okay with that answer, because her face lit up with a breathtaking grin. Walking over to him, she put her hands on either sides of his face and stared at him. It was like an enchantment he couldn't break free from, so he simply stared back. They stood like that for seven, uncomfortable seconds, before she leaned in an planted a kiss of his cheek.

   "No strings attached," she whispered before walking, more like sashaying, away.

   Kenner was left there with just one thought in his mind: Riley Daniels was trouble.

****

   As if he wasn't frustrated enough, Kenner had to deal with New York traffic when all he needed was to get home and get a proper rest. He could feel his arm, but it still hurt like hell. A nice, cool shower and some pain meds could help. Some sleep too.

   His aunt would be home by now. It was already four, so she had to leave to go pick Noble from the airport. And Kenner couldn't wait, because he and his cousin had a case to dig.

   Noble... Terrence …how?

   That was the question he intended to ask him, and he wasn't taking anything less than the truth. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel as he waited for the red lights on the car in front of him to go off. Impatient drivers behind him pounded on their car's horns, combining the noise from over a hundred stereos and the hot afternoon Sun. Again, Kenner felt like screaming.

   Finally, the cars began to move. He trailed behind a red mustang, until he got to his aunt's street. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, he turned into the quiet street, his eyes fixed on the five storey building at the end of the road.

   Cold bath, sandwich, pain meds, sleep, he chanted over and over in his head. When he pulled over, he noticed the silver Land Cruiser parked beside an old rickety truck. If he wasn't mistaken, that car belonged to his father.

    Just like that, all the excitement he had about coming home drained away. All that was left was seething anger that got even worse when he saw his father standing at the entrance to the building.

    "I see you're still taking that football thing seriously," his father mused, gesturing at the training gear he still had on.

   Kenner's frown deepened. "Yes, I aim only to disappoint you."

    Mr. Hawthorne chuckled softly, scratching the back of his head nervously.

    "Look, son, I came here to see you," he started. "I bet your mum hasn't tried to reach out."

    Kenner forced himself to stay calm, but he couldn't help but blink furiously as a lump began to form at the back of his throat. His father was right. His mother hadn't even tried to find out how he was doing, and she claimed she loved him.

   "I just wanna talk, okay? That's all I wanna do---talk. And I just want you to ---please--- just listen."

   Kenner crossed his hands over his chest defiantly. "Just talk?"

   His father nodded.

   "Then let's talk, dad. Let's go inside and talk." Turning back to his car, he pressed the button on his keys and the car beeped in reply. Turning back to his father, he gestured towards the staircase.

****

  Hi, thanks for reading this chapter. By now, you know that nothing really happened in this chapter. That's because it's a filler. The real action comes in the next chapter which is coming on Saturday, and I mean real action.

   Song for the chapter is "heavy" by Jussie Smollett of Empire. Fitting to describe how Kenner is (and I'm secretly obsessed with the song!)

   So, don't forget to vote and leave your thoughts on the chapter. P.s., happy 25 days to December!