*currently editing*
Two boys. Two different schools. One game. One goal.
Life was easy when you were considered high school royalty but when you get rivalry on the field, things get a little interesting.
Connor Taylor went to Northshore. Dakota Ande...
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"i know in the morning we'll be nothing more than each other's enemies" bedroom warefare • one ok rock
***
I dribbled the ball up the field as fast as I could, skilfully dodging opposing players as I went. Carefully blocking out the noise of the crowd, I focused on the goalie.
"Okay," I muttered to myself, "one more goal and we win."
I swung my leg back and just as I was about to shoot on goal, the ball was kicked out from under me. Unsurprisingly, I turned to see none other than Dakota Anderson dribbling the ball back up the field with a smirk on his face.
Of course it was him: the star player of Ridgemount Academy and my biggest rival since we played together in Little League as kids. I'd hated him for years, beginning with the time he tripped me intentionally so I'd face plant on the field during the first game we ever played together.
Seven-year old Dakota was a spoiled brat with an attitude problem. Eighteen-year old Dakota was a stuck-up, conceited jerk who needed a good old punch in the face.
I snarled and tore after Dakota to the midfield line. The ball was passed upfield toward Ridgemount's goal. Before they could score, Northshore's defenders closed in quickly and the ball was kicked away again. My eyes tracked its every movement across the pitch.
"Connor!" Trent, one of my best friends who played midfield, called as he approached with the ball.
My feet were moving before I'd even registered the thought. The faces of other players blurred around me as I focused on Trent, ready to take possession of the ball. In less than three seconds of attaining it, Dakota was by my side.
Having already swung my leg back to take another shot, I let out a painful yelp when Dakota's cleat struck my shin in effort to reclaim the ball. The power of the blow travelled through my shin guards to a throbbing ache beneath my skin.
It would've been a foul but Ridgemount had set themselves up in a way that obscured their Captain's actions from the referee's view. Milliseconds passed but it was enough time to seize the opportunity for a contemptible playout. Ridgemount's playing style was dirty and deceitful, endorsed by Dakota's smug look every time another one of their schemes was executed without repercussion. That stupid grin on his face was one of the many reasons I despised him.
The Ridgemount Captain was gone as quickly as he'd come. Dakota kicked the ball toward the midfield line and it was claimed in a flurry of red and black jerseys.
Northshore fought hard. Our defenders came in swinging but they weren't fast enough. Ridgemount was the stronger team and we hadn't had enough of a head start.
Our teams collided in a technicolour explosion of red and blue, fighting viciously to obtain the ball. Feet became entangled and the gameplay grew more savage as the final minutes counted down. I grinned when we regained possession a few times before slacking when we lost it again. Northshore's defence was quickly falling apart under the brutish attacks of Ridgemount's opposition.
