𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝟐𝟔 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

"You really didn't have to come with me to the locker room, Ria," Otto said resignedly, scratching his head. We were in a place where most naive girls get wet in their pants. Yes, it was nothing more than a locker room for school footballers. I've never thought I would come here voluntarily, and not at all because Otto would have his first training session.

I crooked my mouth in a friendly way and said:

"But I had to. Just in case. You know, I'm not quite sure if you know which side you should put on your jersey," I teased him, making him frown.

"Hey, weren't you the one who suggested to the headmistress that Otto Wilder would be a great replacement for Cooper?" The friend's eyes fluttered with excitement.

"Well," I began, looking for something to knock down his ego, "with your pride, you do add some truth to my claim. Now all you need is blond hair, and you will be just like him."

"Pff, never!" Otto puffed his cheeks and bravely stuck out his chest. "I'd rather be a computer nerd forever, who is being friends with a secretive weirdo than to be someone who goes to the toilets to look in the mirror more often than take a shit." A fake laugh came out of me with which I tried to hide the fact that the attribute "secretive weirdo" has hurt my fragile feelings. I gave freedom to my thoughts that made me wonder if people would still perceive me this way if my father wasn't a murderer. I smiled ironically, admitting that no one had known who Lucifer truly was, and yet this 'personality sticker' was made for me.

"Could you turn around?" Otto muttered, and I began to pay full attention to him.

"Mhmm?"

The friend sighed heavily and pointed to the jersey.

"I want to change," he explained.

"So what? Should I put a scarf over my eyes or something?" I chuckled, waiting for Otto to laugh as well. Instead, he blushed and nodded casually. "But I've seen you in a swimsuit, so what's the big deal?" I didn't understand.

"But I'm not wearing a swimsuit now," he said while I burst out to laugh.

"Are you kidding me, right? And people say it bothers women when men see us in our underwear."

"I just-"

"Feel embarrassed?" I finished the sentence instead. I knew how he felt. I was his best friend, after all. "You don't have to be ashamed of me. I know you. I've seen you in worse situations. You did see me, too, by the way... Besides... now you're one of the football players! Doesn't this species run around the field without a T-shirt on like...daily basis? What are you going to do if comes to screwing some blonde girl with D's? Are you going to sleep with her in a T-shirt?" I said with the utmost effort not to laugh.

"Sometimes I don't know, why I'm being friends with you," he said smiling, and I knew I had won this argument.

"Of course, you know," I replied and dug my elbow into his ribs.