Authors: Chloe Smith
"Well, you don't need to be because we're going to beat those losers!" Kyle yelled into the locker room, and everybody clapped, cheered, and whistled their agreement with Kyle.
The entire varsity football team filed into the boys' locker room and began changing into sweats for today's practice while Tristan and Kyle began getting all of the items they needed for practice today since their coach wasn't there.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Tristan kept repeating in his head, still trying to make those three, little words become actuality.
"Hey, Tris, what are we doing today since the coach is gone for the week?" Sal called from across the bench.
"Well, Kyle wants to practice Blitz, and Coach wants us to practice Play 14. So, we'll probably work on those the first half of practice and then just some extra running and basic techniques the second half," Tristan said in a monotone voice.
Half of the team grumbled when he said Play 14.
"We've done that play a hundred times," someone mumbled.
"Yeah, well, last game someone fumbled the ball and lost us six points."
About one hour and forty-five minutes later, the entire varsity football team was on the field, running posts—running from one post on one side of the field to the opposite post on the other side. It was a long run, but it helped with their cardio workout, and Tristan wanted his team to be able to run nonstop throughout the game and not be out of breath. He needed them to be alert even if they were exerting a lot of energy into just running. So, he liked to run a lot and get his team used to it before a big game. Besides they had already practiced all of the plays they needed done before this week's game, and he was sure that everyone knew all of the necessary things for all of the plays, so he wasn't too worried about those.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Post 26. 24 more to go.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some—
Tristan's attention was caught by four girls walking to their cars in the parking lot. One blonde, one brunette, one black-haired, and one had a long, curly, scarlet ponytail. Tristan's brown eyes locked with the redhead's figure as she walked in the middle of the line. He wondered why the girls' wanted to be unpopular. When he had talked to Ginny at the club, she had been total popular material—probably even more popular than Alice Barrington. They all had the bodies—well, except for the blonde, whose body wasn't exactly all that fantastic—to rule the school. And Ginny had the attitude and personality to defend herself against any type of gossip or rumors that she could stay on top and never been pushed off. And, for some off reason, Tristan had a feeling that Alice was too insecure and whiney to stay on top forever. She was just so clingy and dependent on everyone else that anyone could push her off the top of the school's social hierarchy.
Tristan's feet tangled themselves up as he continued to watch the group of four girls walk to their cars in the parking lot, and he tripped right in the middle of practice. Oh, wow, he had never done that before. He was usually completely coordinated and in control of his body's movements. But that damned redhead just managed to make him fall head over heels… He stopped himself before he could finish that sentence.
"Tris, you...okay?" Tom panted while he continued running in place and at the same time helped Tristan up.
"Yeah, just some rock on the ground that I didn't see," Tristan lied. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
Tristan continued running and looked back at the four girls. Only now there were merely two of them. The ugly duckling blonde one and the brunette one were gone. They had probably already gotten in their cars and left school. The black-haired one suddenly jumped in her car, giggling. And Scarlett was left standing there.
But now it was a male that caught Tristan's attention. It was some guy he had seen only a few times before in his entire life. He was senior; smart, attractive, and rich.
What is he doing talking to Scarlett? Did they know each other? Was he her brother?
Suddenly something about Scarlett's brother tugged at his memory. It felt like he was trying to remember a dream that he had had years ago and couldn't get a grasp on what it was. He knew she had a brother, but he felt like her brother was younger than she was, so this boy couldn't be her brother.
So, why was he talking to her?
After the senior and Scarlett talked a little bit, Scarlett turned heading for her old punch buggy, but the male—his named started with an F—grabbed her hand. Fury burned within Tristan's chest. Tristan shook himself.
What was that? Why was his chest burning?
He had only felt this pang once before in his life, and that was when his little brother got to ride in the front seat of the car during a long road trip. He had been jealous of his brother. So, why was he feeling it now? It wasn't like Scarlett was anything important to him. She was just some unknown girl who was his lab partner and shared some forgotten past with him. That was it. The end.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Post 28. 22 more to go.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
They were just talking. Maybe he needs something. Maybe he had some idiotic pre-calculus question to ask her. Maybe—
Scarlett nodded and then began walking with the boy over towards his motorcycle. Tristan couldn't believe what he was seeing. The tall male was saying something that made Scarlett blush.
Now they were both straddling the bike. Scarlett's arms were wrapped around the guy's torso, her head lying on his back. She looked so comfortable and easygoing against his body. And Tristan began to feel that pang of jealousy again.
God damn it, stop that!
Tristan mentally yelled at his body.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Post 31. 19 more to go.
Just some girl. Just some girl. Just some girl.
Tristan watched Scarlett and the senior speed out of the school parking lot.
"STOP RUNNING!" he yelled. And, as he had expected, the football team stopped running, placed their arms on their knees, and panted hard through their mouths. Tristan knew that it was better for the lungs if you placed her hands on top of your head and breathed slowly through your nose, but he didn't feel like telling his team that because an idea was forming in his head. And while his entire team huffed and puffed around him, Tristan wasn't panting. He was fuming.
"Practice is over. Go home. Practice Friday. Don't be late." And Tristan ran to the locker rooms to change and take a quick shower before the plan finished fabricating in his mind.
After he finished the quickest shower he had ever taken in his entire life, he pulled on a T-shirt from his bag, boxers, and jeans. He stuffed his aching feet from running so much into tennis shoes, completely forgetting to put on socks. And then he was out of the locker room in less than a minute. He hurriedly walked down the hallways of the practically empty school—the only people who were still in the classrooms were the teachers, the kids who always had after school detention, and the nerds. Once Tristan made it out of the school building, he ran to his convertible, threw his bags into the backseat of the car, and sped out of the school's parking lot.
Tristan didn't exactly know why he had stopped practice so early; only that he needed to talk to Scarlett. He didn't know what he wanted to say to her, but he knew that he had to say something. He was jealous because of her. And he needed to get her out of his mind, so he needed to talk to her. He needed to calm his inner self and begin getting his mind back on track: football, family, friends, and popularity, oh, and grades. So, the only thing he could think about doing to get her out of his brain was to talk to her and get some of this stress off his body. And he needed to be completely stress-free because he had a big game coming up and he couldn't have some insignificant girl bombarding the space in his mind.
He didn't know exactly where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to talk to Scarlett. So, he figured that he should probably swing by her place and have a chat with her. He knew that she lived down the street from Alice, so he began heading off in that direction. He only hoped that the guy she was riding on that motorcycle with would bring her straight home—boy, he sounded like a strict mother. But he really needed to talk to Scarlett. And hopefully they could finish a complete conversation without fighting. He knew that Scarlett had some sort of uncalled for grudge against him, but maybe he could just break through to her and make her see that he really wasn't that bad of a guy. And then his mind began to wonder, what if the guy didn't bring her back home right away? What if he drove her around for a while? How long would Tristan have to wait for Scarlett to get home? Why did he feel so much like a stalker as he parked the car across the street from Scarlett's two story house? Maybe he could stop by Alice's house to pass the time if the guy didn't bring Scarlett straight home. Tristan outwardly shuddered as this thought crossed his mind. No way was he doing that. The last time he had seen Alice was at her house when he had realized that she had illegally drugged him and taken complete advantage of him by screwing with him in the back of his own car. Tristan shuddered again as he remembered those horrible details. Thank God he couldn't really remember what had happened because he had been so drugged—or drunk, but who was really wondering? He just hoped that Alice wasn't pregnant. But he was pretty sure that she was on the pill, so he pushed that thought out of his head and continued to watch the front door of Scarlett's house like some stalker.
Tristan waited for hours for Scarlett to come home. That guy probably had taken Scarlett on a long ride on his big ass motorcycle to show off. Who knew that the most unpopular girl in school could catch a thrill by riding on the back of some Harley? Tristan certainly didn't know that. Why the hell did he care? He shook the questions out of his head, pulled out his homework, and began trying to finish the much neglected paperwork that he hadn't even taken a look at since it had been assigned last week. But after he realized that doing his homework wouldn't help him get the redheaded girl out of his brain, he stuffed his work back into his backpack and threw it into the back seat of his convertible.
Well, this was not how he had expected his day to turn out. First he had tried to confront Scarlett and find out what had gone down between them so many years ago, but that plan had gone up in flames before their first class had even started. And then he thought that maybe he could try to tackle her—metaphorically—again during lunch, but she had been MIA—just like Alice, which didn't bother Tristan one bit…Alice, not Scarlett. He had been bothered by thoughts of Scarlett all day and he wanted to be free of them. Finally he had decided that he would have a nice, long conversation with her after lab, but she had scuttled out of there like a fat boy who saw a bar of chocolate. And then he had seen her ride off with some boy on a motorcycle during football practice. Well, that just wouldn't do.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. What? Tristan couldn't believe that he had just thought that last thought. What did that even mean? Tristan shook the thought from his head and continued to wait for Scarlett to arrive home.
Ch
apter Six
Francis dropped a
very overwhelmed Scarlett off at her house around ten o'clock that night. They had gone out for a long ride. Scarlett had never been so thrilled in her life. She had never even seen a real life motorcycle up that close. Today had been the first time she had ever done something so fun and exciting since…the incident. Scarlett stared after Francis until he had completely disappeared around the corner. He was hot. She couldn't deny it. And the thing was she couldn't believe that she had never noticed the hints he had been dropping all these years. Now that some light had been shed on the subject by Francis, she did remember a few things that he had done. He had always complimented her even on her worst days. And he had even given her presents on Christmas and candy on Easter and Halloween. He even knew her birthday. Scarlett felt as if she should find that sort of stalker-ish, but she just couldn't bring herself to feel scared around him. She only felt at ease. She was so awe-struck about her fortunate turn of luck that she didn't even see her mother until about five minutes after Francis had left.