❝she was the girl, who bit the horizon, who peeled the stars from the sky and put them on her tongue, the girl who was hungry for the universe, who craved magic and saw the broken boy for who he truly was- a broken boy.❞
Beca...
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SO um yeah. This chapter to display the assholeness that is Jem Leighton but we love him anyway. I would like to dedicate this chapter to KatyDreams for putting this novel on of the best Wattpad romance novels list. You're the best. :)
EDITED: 13/2/17
Chapter 8
The Dogs of War and Nonexistent Fish Fetishes
It was cold, wet and sludgy, due to the rain hailed upon our heads, unleashing an immortal torment like God was taking the biggest piss onto the world. We didn't even have to shower after football practice because goddamn it, the rest of the world had better water pressure than the showers.
Upon greater news of the weather, though minuscule, the snow from January had finally melted but thick white slushes still remained on the side of the roads and ice encased the grass blades, reflecting grey clouds from it's encrusted appearance. Our cheeks were pink from the cold and all of my teammates had been grumbling about how the season had ended and I was still making them practice, saying something along the lines that I was a football fanatic who had no free time whatsoever.
"Jem, that was crazy," Caleb chattered, teeth grinding into each other to shield himself from the dampening cold, "Two hours? In this weather?"
"Practice makes perfect," I recited and Caleb rolled his eyes. We were trudging back to the lockers, feet sinking into the muddy ground. It was a muddy play today, with us slipping and sliding like ice figure skaters whenever we ran, and the ball was nearly impossible to distinguish in the heavy haze of grey rain. "And besides, it's over. I'm just rehashing this practice because of nostalgia purposes. We play not to get better but we play because I miss having all my teammates cursing me to hell for practice drills."
"You're insane."
"I think my balls froze over," marvelled Heath, glancing down at his pants as he brought up the rear.
"Never mind," muttered Caleb, running a hand through his matted hair, flecked with ice and rain as we sheltered into the locker rooms in the unorganised stampede of our football cleats clacking and clicking against the floor, "I'm so cold I think my whole body is numb."
"Don't be dramatic," I snorted at Caleb as we dumped our helmets into our lockers and stripped ourselves free of our padding. Underneath my sweater was kind of damp and kind of dry and I should probably change before I find myself ridden with a cold but I was too lazy to change so I sat on the bench and lit a cigarette as my friends changed- respectively because I looked away.
"...do it, though?" was the end sentence of Jason Kellington when he and Brooklyn Dave wandered out of the showers, towels wrapped very loosely around their waists and I hoped to God they don't fall for the sake of all our eyes.
"Well, she never has a boyfriend," grinned Brooklyn Dave, one of my trusted linebackers and one of the school's infamous womanizer. Some of the girls had pegged him to be my second in terms of stringing up girls along and being a player but honestly? I didn't really care about the competition- I mean, I still get some ass, right? But Brooklyn always treated it like a major deal, sizing me with those squinty eyes, scrutinising me critically whenever I zeroed in on a girl of his particular liking- though his particular liking always strayed and it never lasted more than a week after he slept with them. Brooklyn was nice, I supposed- to a certain extent. "She'll be easy."
