The Boy I Love

Tyler Andrews: Face

"Andrews! Are you with us?" 


I glance up. "Yes, Coach." 


"Good. Listen." 

I sigh and slip my phone into my pocket to listen to Coach. He's not seriously mad at me, though his tone makes it sound like he's definitely about to kick me off the team. That's the third or maybe fifth time that he's had to get my attention. It's not my fault that I don't find these briefings interesting. It's all just school announcements that we get reminded of because it's convenient to do so, and occasionally a mention of some tournament or something. If it was anything important, it would have been said at the beginning. Probably.



"Everyone! Listening, please!" Couch Turner sounds like he's starting to lose his temper. "This last announcement is a big one. As I already told you, there's an upcoming out-of-town tournament, the biggest we've qualified for, to date. Everyone who isn't paying for themselves must have their legal parent or guardian sign the forms at least two days before we leave. And I want everyone there. Right now I have zero forms. That's a problem. Understood?" 



"Yes, Coach," the team says, almost in unison.


"Good. Go warm up." 


We all stand from our spot on the uncomfortable gym floor and start with the usual warm up (consisting of the worst exercises invented, including burpees). Once we finish, Coach Turner starts calling people to the ring. I'm not in the first group, but that doesn't bother me. Nothing at wrestling practice bothers me- I'm the best on the team, and everyone knows it.

Being the best wrestler on the team has its benefits. For example, popularity.

My school doesn't have a wrestling team. They don't have any sports teams. They actively support the wrestling club I'm in, though, which basically means that the student body acts as though we're theirs. Like how normal schools have a football team, and the quarterback is subjected to a kind of hero-worship. In this case, it's wrestling instead of football, and the quarterback is me (well, and the other top wrestlers).

Why wrestling? And why would our school actively support such a 'violent' sport? Well, it all started when Coach Turner came into town. He was a famous wrestler who was retiring. He has this great love for wrestling, and he opened a club. It's the only wrestling club in town, but it's the best in the surrounding area. When the administration of our school figured out that the top wrestlers were students there, they hopped on the bandwagon and started announcing our tournaments on the morning announcements, furthering the hype. I'm not complaining. I'm reaping the benefits of high school fame.

"Andrews! Johnson! Ross! Smith!"

The top four wrestlers in the club, ranked in order of greatness, starting with me (okay, no, ranked by alphabetical order, but still). I glance at Vick Johnson, the only one here who could possibly match my skill. His endurance and complete lack of reaction to pain is impressive, even to me. I'm still stronger, though. I'm the strongest person in the club, and the most aggressive. I usually finish matches before they even begin.

Coach Turner sends me and Jack Ross into the ring. He eyes me warily as we gear up. I ignore him and focus on looking extremely bored.

Jack Ross is a pretty cautious, defensive wrestler. He knows my style. He won't let himself be baited. That's why Coach paired me up with him, most likely. The good thing about this, though, is that it means I can go more by putting myself on the offensive immediately. He likes to try and see where I'm coming from before acting. And hopefully, that'll give me enough time to take him down.

We enter the ring from our opposite sides, and he scans me cautiously one more time before settling into his starting position. I continue to ignore his suspicious looks and look bored.