Football Boys

Intro

I hadn't planned on falling in love anytime soon, especially with my best friend.

"Greyson, come on son! Get your shit together, and grab the ball!"

"I'm trying coach!"

I hadn't expected my heart to beat ten times faster each time that he'd come around, each time that he'd smile at me.

"There you go, there you go! Good hustle!"

I was his best friend.

He was the one person that shouldn't have been running through my mind every second of every day.

"You're losing it again!"

But there I was, falling.

"What the hell! Why are you on the ground? Stop tripping over air, and get your behind up and hustle!"

But what made it worse...

"Get your head in the game son!"

It never got any easier to hide my feelings.

Coach Sunny blew his whistle, a shriek that brought time itself to an abrupt halt.

Breathless, I found my eyes on him as he his glare bored through me like the jagged edges of daggers. 

Even from the other side of the field, I could feel the anger in his stiffened stance and frown that only deepened as I looked on, mouth agape.

He finally gestured for me to come closer, a petrifying sight as his it seemed those last moments of heavy breaths were about to be my last.

I slowly made my way across the field, not acknowledging the good lucks and be careful statements from my teammates—as if anything I could say or do at this point would save me from whatever lecture I was about to get.

Here we go.

He seemed to calm himself down as I approached him, his seemingly tight grip on his clipboard loosening—the rapid tapping of his foot slowing.

Up close, his eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his skull, the hickory brown of his skin glistening with sweat more than likely from anger and not the heat.

I didn't know if it was my innocent face or the knowing look in my eyes, but Coach pressed his lips together as if to hold back his slue of insults, taking in a deep breath instead.

"Greyson, what the hell is wrong with you today son?"

A deep, rich voice rattled through my ears and even shook my bones as I stood there, helpless.

Say it's because of the heat.

No, he won't fall for that... I used that excuse last time.

Say you're just tired—no... because he'll say something like 'I'll give you something to be tired about'.

What about—

"Hello? I asked you a question son."

His piercing brown eyes cut through me like a knife, and I couldn't just say nothing.

So I did what any person in my shoes would
do.

"I-I... it... we... you see, I was just... and then the wind. The heat... no, not the heat, but the play, I mean... no, the play is good but I—"

Holding up his hand to silence me, coach
tightly closed his lids and huffed.

He opened them to stare at me, a little less harsh than before as his features softened.