-Your POV-
Americans are stupid. Why would they even trust someone to be a part of the team who was born out of their country, even if my mom is from here?
I was deep in thought as I juggled a soccer ball in an empty soccer field.
"Hi there!" an unfamiliar voice said.
I look up and see the one and only Jill Ellis standing in front of me. I stop juggling.
"Hello." I say, in my slight French accent. I've spent a long time in the States, so it faded.
"The training camp is in Buffalo, Wyoming. Most of the team are taking a plane, what would you like to do?" she asked me, sincerity in her eyes.
"Um...I guess I could drive, I mean it's only a 7 hour drive." I suggested.
"Are you sure Y/N? That's a far way to drive." Jill said, worriedly.
I have this thing where I can sort of read people. Not like read their minds, but the emotions that they give off. Eye movement, twitching, tending of the muscles, shifting weight, that sort of thing.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, I promise." I told Jill, although I could tell she was skeptical of my answer.
"Alright kid, see you at camp tomorrow at 6 o clock sharp." she said, turning away and waving.
"See you then." I called to her.
I actually felt slight pity for the American, as she seemed to genuinely care about my well being.
Too bad.
I shook my and head and walked back to my car. It was a red 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 396, with two black stripes running down the middle of the car. It was a gift from my dad before I was sent away to live with my aunt.
I despise my dad, and everything he stands for. He is what Americans call a "Right-Wing Conservative". It hasn't been easy with him, especially because of my sexual orientation.
I drive home to my apartment in Colorado Springs, Colorado. I was happy when Colorado was the place chosen for me to live, since the scenery was magnificent. I always enjoy to go hiking or sight-seeing whenever I'm free.
As I arrive at my apartment, I realize I should pack, but for now, sleep is what consumes my thoughts. Instead of packing my things for the big drive, I knock out on my living room couch.
A/N: People probably won't respond but who would you like to become in a relationship with? (Please consider your age, you are 23.)
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Playing the Part
FanfictionYou are 23, and from Paris, France. Since the age of 4, you have been bred to be one of the best players in the world, secretly. France is dying to win a World Cup and an Olympic Gold medal, but they need you to do it. You were sent to the US when y...
