Wounded Hearts

Chapter one

Chapter one

Zachariah

I took off my team's T-shirt. Practicing since seven o'clock in the morning until one and half is tiring as hell. The coach blew on his whistle gaining everybody's attention. We, all the football players, were in the lockers room changing, after the exhausting practice.

"We all have an interview after two hours. You have to return to your houses, wear a presentable and formal suit. Then, we will all meet at the magazine's building. I'm gonna send you the location in ten minutes" he yelled.

Oh thank god I at least have one hour to sleep.

"Zachariah come to me after you shower and dress" Coach said.

After taking a shower and wearing the extra shirt and jeans that I brought with me, I met the coach. He was leaning on the wall adjacent to the lockers room. The coach's name is Ziad Khalid but he doesn't like it when anyone of us calls him by his actual name.

The coach isn't actually old, maybe in his mid thirties. He is really lean; of course I'm not saying this in a gayish way.

"Zachariah you and I both have an interview before the others. Because I am the coach and you are the captain who has scored both goals in the finals" he said looking at me sympathetically.

"When?"

"After half an hour."

I groaned loudly. I should've known I'm not getting any rest today.

***

I climbed off of my motor cycle. It was plain black nothing unique, but I would never think about changing it. This was a gift from the most important person I had had in my life. Even though, I lost that person I won't lose the only thing that I can still have from her.

After my talk with the coach I didn't bother changing. Instead, I ate lunch. Then took off to the magazine building which happen to be the place that ill be interviewed in.

The magazine's name was weirdly familiar to me. However, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't remember when I heard or read this name, before. "Players Magazine"

***

I have been waiting for the coach for about 10 minutes. I could care less if we're late. I just want to get this over with and go home to sleep. I was sitting in the reception on a white chair that was so comfy, when somebody patted my back.

"Sorry for being late, young man."

"It's okay let's just get this over with, coach."

We walked to the elevator clicked on the bottom. Thankfully we didn't have to wait more than 30 seconds or something for it to arrive. Before I could ask, coach pressed on the bottom that read 13. The coach was actually wearing a suit which is weird because he usually isn't a man to put an effort into choosing an outfit. That is weird; today is weird.

Ding. The elevator finally stopped on floor thirteen, after stopping on nearly all the floors. I sighed loudly I think it will be a very long day.

A receptionist met us in the hall way and ushered us to room in the end of the hallway. The receptionist has said that the interviewer will come in five minutes and we could wait in her office.

Once I entered I smelled the best perfume ever, not so hard to smell, simple, and elegant. I know this scent. It is actually the perfume of my lover, even though she is technically my ex-lover. I don't call her that, I still love her. There is no point in hiding it. Would you remember the perfume of all the girlfriends you had, if you don't love them? I don't think so.

I wish I could see her beautiful face again. I wish I could see her tall brown amazing hair. I wish I could stop seeing the hurt, that I've caused her, in her beautiful eyes. The broken look she had was printed in my memory. The worst part is that I was the one to cause it. Whenever I am free and thinking I would see these beautiful eyes that was filled with tears and so much hurt. Whenever I close my eyes I see hers.

A knock jolted me out of my thoughts. The door opened slowly revealing the same eyes I've been imagining. The same face I wanted desperately to see.

Oh my god. I stood up.

My lover is in front of me! But I've noticed something different. She is now veiled. She looks cute with the veil. I probably look like a fish with my mouth opening and closing. Not knowing what to do or say.

I'm actually looking into Laila's beautiful eyes. After four years of the break up.