Football season was quickly coming to an end. It was nearly December, which meant we only had a few more matches left to play. So far, the team had done fine. We were nothing special— although many of the boys acted like we were. But, as the season began to close, we were pushed harder and harder until we were close to our breaking point. For some people, that might be a reason to quit. For me, it was a reason to keep going.

I was not the star of the team. I wasn't a benchwarmer either, but I usually played centre back, where the ball only sometimes came close to my cleats. When it did, I would expertly steal it away like I'd practiced countless amounts of time at home, then kick it off to a midfielder without the opposing team even touching it.

What can I say? I was good at what I did.

I was confident on the field. Football was my escape sometimes. When I didn't have the chance to go for a run or listen to music, I would dribble a ball between my feet or juggle it for as long as I could. I would go outside and kick the ball back and forth across the dewy grass and for some reason, I felt good. Even when my legs were giving out and my lungs begged for a deep breath.

As the sun began to set over the stands and cast a shadow on the field, my heart began to beat faster. I was hyped up, a mix of nervous and eager energy filling my body. I sat on the bench, unable to stop my leg from bouncing as I put on my shin guards.

"Rosen!" My coach barked, "I have you playing centre back for the first half, then forward the second."

Suddenly, my leg began bouncing faster. "You want me on forward?"

"You want him in forward?" Oliver repeated from beside the coach, "are you joking?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?" Coach asked, giving him a stone cold stare. He cowered behind another teammate, but he kept the annoyed expression on his face.

Forward was a position usually saved for someone like Oliver, who was fast and could make good decisions on the spot. You always had to be ready to receive and make a play, hopefully scoring for your team. I was fast when it came to stealing the ball out from someone else's foot, but my mind had practically been programmed to pass it off to whoever's closest or dribble it until then.

"Are you up for it?" he asked, only I knew it wasn't a question. Still, all eyes were on me, the heated stares of the boys trying to force me into turning the position down. I felt like I was going to crumble under the pressure of so many people waiting for me, hoping I make the right decision.

There were stands of people that would be depending on me; watching my every move as if they were waiting for me to fuck up. But football was one of the last things I had confidence in. Football kept me afloat, and I wasn't ready to drown.

So I nodded. Hesitantly, yes, but it still counts. "I-I am. Thank you."

My teammates rolled their eyes— some even groaned— before walking back to the bench. Blake lingered for a second, his eyes on the floor as he gave me a small nod, as if to say 'good luck.' I didn't respond. Instead, I walked back over to my seat and continued to strap on my gear.

The first half of the match was boring. The ball stayed mostly in the middle, making it an easy game for people like me playing defence, but exhausting for others who had the ball in their possession almost all the time. Time flies in easy matches because I feel like I'm watching from the sidelines, but I still feel like I'm part of the game when I scream out plays or jump around in case the ball comes to me. Half break came too quick, and before I knew it I was chugging water out of a little paper cone and nervously jumping around, waiting for the next half to start. I glanced over to the crowd of students eating and watching, which made my nerves sky rocket, but it was still balanced out by the excitement and adrenaline quickly taking over my body. I really did love football, even if it scared the shit out of me sometimes.

"Elijah!" Someone called out from the stands. I could barely hear it over the chaos that always flooded the stands, but I could tell it wasn't someone I recognised. I glanced around the stands until my eyes landed on Grace, sitting in the front row, a few of her friends giggling beside her and she playfully pushed a girl who was waving to me. I barely knew her from the one time Grace introduced us, but I waved back, trying (and failing) to hiding the growing smile on my lips. Grace replied with a cheesy grin and a sheepish wave, then went back to giggling with her mates.

"I can't believe she's still with you," Oliver said from behind me, his mouth so close to my ear I could feel his hot breath stinging my skin. "With an ass like that, she could get any guy she wants."

I scowled and yanked my shoulder out of his grip, wiping the sweat dripping down the side of my face.

He smirked and jogged onto the middle of the field. I followed close behind, unable to shake the gross feeling he'd given me. Fortunately, the game quickly became the only thing on my mind, and with only a few minutes to go, the score was tied at one to one. I had ran around a lot more this half, only the ball wasn't passed to me as much as it was the other forward. I didn't mind, as it was my first time playing up, but I still jumped and sprinted as much as I needed to so I could make sure I was open. By the time the ball had finally been in my possession, my curls were matted down and sticking to my forehead and sweat had turned to glue on my skin, keeping all my gear from sliding around. At that point, the long sleeved kit we wore had become quite the inconvenience, despite it being a chilly November night.

The ball was at midfield and our other forward was swamped with defence, leaving me the only option. I yelled out that I was open, and the midfielder made a quick pass to me, only it was caught by a player who jumped in between. I sprang into action before I could even comprehend what was going on. I sprinted up to the kid who was beginning to dribble back towards the other side, and I expertly hooked my foot around the ball and stole it back without him even realising I was there. I turned around to find the goal wasn't far off, and I had a clear open shot in the upper corner. So I mustered up all the courage I had and kicked it just like I'd practiced every day right at the upper corner.

But the ball fell just before it could hit the net.

And it landed right in the goalkeeper's gloves.

"Are you fucking serious?" Someone screamed out from behind me. I winced as the crowd, who had been on the edge of their seat cheering for me, sat back down in disappointment.

And soon after, the game was over. It ended in a draw with no extra minutes, which was fine by me. I ran over to the bench and packed up as fast as I could, hoping to avoid the inevitable shit I'd get from my teammates.

"I could've made that shot," Marcus said.

"Anyone could've. It was an easy kick to the upper corner. A free win," Oliver remarked.

I threw my bag over my shoulder and spared a glance at Blake, who was dead silent in the circle of boys all talking about my mistake. I didn't even bother staying to change in the locker room or hear what our coach had to say. I was completely defeated. All of my energy and confidence had been used up, and I felt like a big bag of nothing.

Grace came over to me before I could get in my car and leave, and I told myself I wouldn't let her see that side of me yet. So I held back the tears and forced my breathing to even out as I smiled and waved at her, before clenching my fists and hiding them behind my back.

"That was amazing, Eli!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms around my neck and planting a firm kiss on my cheek. Her friends stood a few feet away, giggling and whispering into each other's ears. I know they didn't care about my mistake as much as they did my relationship with Grace, but I couldn't help but feel self conscious.

I gave her a quick kiss on her lips and ignored the lack of butterflies in my stomach. "Cheers. I sort of fucked it up."

"You did fine, Eli. Believe me, if you played like shit I would be laughing at you right now," she said.

That eased the embarrassment a bit, but not enough. I gave her a weak smile as she went to say something else, but her excited expression wavered as she looked behind me.

"Well done, Lij," Adam said, causing me to whip my head around and face him. I saw Grace take a cautious step back out of the corner of my eye along with her friends, but I didn't think he noticed.

"Oh... um... cheers," I said plainly, my eyes slowly making their way down to his hand without my permission. As I guessed, his knuckles were an ugly shade of purple and the scabs on his fingers were only just starting to fade. His eyes followed mine and he quickly shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He looked back up at me, a little more timid this time. He took a step forward, and I involuntarily jumped back.

Adam's shy demeanour quickly changed to hurt as he slowly took a step away from me, his smile falling into a confused frown. "Are you okay?" He asked.

I really wasn't afraid of him. I felt more comfortable in his arms than I ever had anyone else's— including Grace. I didn't want to be so jumpy around him, but ever since I saw him talking to his mum at his house, I couldn't shake the image of him hurting himself. "Adam- I- I-"

"He doesn't want you to break him like one of your walls or your desk," Grace snapped from behind me.

My eyes widened as soon as Adam's did, both of us locked in cold eye contact with each other. "That's not-"

"You told her?" He said slowly, his voice wavering slightly. "You fucking told her?"

"Adam don't-" I started, fear taking over my body. I wasn't afraid of him hurting me anymore, I was terrified I was about to lose the person that meant the most to me. And I hated myself for thinking like that, because I had a girlfriend and a family, but none of them cared about me like Adam did, and I broke the trust that we had built up for months.

"Don't what? Hurt you? You still think I'm the kind of person who does that? After everything, you tell your fucking girlfriend that you're afraid of me because of all the shit that I've told you that wasn't meant to leave the pool?" He interrogated me like I had just committed a murder. My body shut down and I stood there, watching him explode like I was in a movie theatre and he was on the screen. I disconnected myself from the moment and just watched, waiting to get sucked back into my body and back into my life, where I would have to deal with how badly I fucked up.

Eventually, that time came. Adam stormed off, his face dry and angry, but his voice breaking like he was ready to cry. I came back into where I was and didn't bother to hold back any tears. I didn't care if my teammates or Grace's friends or even if Grace saw. I didn't care anymore.

So when Grace spoke up with a soft and sympathetic, "Eli..." I shook my head and pierced the skin on my arm with my jagged nails.

"No," I spat back, "fuck this."

And I ran over to my car, and I sat, and I sobbed.

<><><>

Oooooh damn that's tough. Poor Eli's got a shit ton on his plate at this point. Do you guys like Grace? Like, besides the fact she's standing between Eli and his thing for Adam, is she a likeable person? I dont know I can't tell.

Anyway thanks again for reading lots of lovvvveeee!

~Teddy