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She and Rogue got into a fight that turned physical so every day for the foreseeable future she’ll be stuck in detention cataloging books in the library with him.
“That’s alright.” I tell her, before adding, “And don't worry, you’ll still get the traditional post-game debrief.”
“You know I only really enjoy those when I get the play by play from multiple different POVs.”
“And I always deliver, don’t I? Remember the time Sarah Freeman accidentally hit a bird with the ball and I gave you both herandthe bird’s point of view?”
She cringes. “Oof. Yeah, that was a vivid description. David Attenborough would have been proud.”
We look at each other for a quiet beat before bursting out laughing.
Laughter has the tension slipping out of my body, the relaxation allowing me to breathe a little better than before.
“Feeling better?” She asks.
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to be amazing, I know it.” She says, her confidence in me rock steady as always. “Want me to braid your hair?”
“Obviously.”
I always wear my hair in a French braid for games, one usually done by Bellamy or Trish.
It started out just as the sturdiest way to keep the hair out of my face, but over the years it’s become more of a lucky charm. The only time I didn’t braid it and wore a simple ponytail instead was two years ago.
We lost 4-1.
Obviously, I know there’s no connection between the two but like most athletes, I’m superstitious. Braiding my hair is just a part of my pre-game ritual now.
“Good luck out there.”
I turn to find Rhys leaning against the row of lockers, arms crossed and one backpack strap loosely wrapped around his shoulder as he looks at me.
The way his arms are folded has the muscles in his chest and biceps straining mouthwateringly against the fabric of his black shirt.
“Thanks.” I reply curtly, grabbing Bellamy by the hand and starting to walk away.
“Hawley.” He says, stopping me in my tracks. He waits for me to turn around and continues when I don’t. “That’s their center back. She’s lethal in one on ones. Try to pass the ball off before you engage her.”
His words raise my hackles and I finally turn to face him.
Anger is clear in my voice when I speak. “Did I ask for your opinion?”
He simply gives me a small smile, shrugs and pushes off the locker. I think he’s going to walk up to me, but instead he goes off in the opposite direction, leaving me standing in the middle of the half packed hallway.
I look back at Bellamy, now irate. It’s one thing for me to doubt myself and another for someone else to give voice to them, especiallyhim.
“I think he was just trying to help.” Bellamy says, giving me an uncertain look.
“Fuck him.”
“No you’re right, fuck him.” She answers with a decisive nod. “Come on, let’s get your hair braided before I have to report to prison.”
???
The game is brutal as expected.
We’re down 1-0 with five minutes of stoppage time left and it’s been raining heavily for the past half hour.
