Yours Musically

Second Strike

Chapter Thirteen - Second Strike

I kicked open the boy's changing room door, hoping to give off a serious I-mean-business impression, and marched right in.

There were about six players in sight, three of them seated on the bench, two standing around shirtless talking and one fixing his hair in the mirror. And all of them froze at the sound of the door hitting the wall as their heads snapped in my direction at the same time to gape at me with open mouths.

I almost held my hands up as a peace gesture and admitted 'shit I didn't mean to kick it that harshly' but I refrained. It would now ruin the offensive beginning of this operation, even though it had been unintentional.

When I'd snapped the door open, one of the guys, who I recalled was Chris, had just stepped out of the shower with his towel loose around his waist. When he saw me, he was completely staggered and barely paid any attention to his slacking towel until it almost came undone and he hurriedly grabbed it. Thank God for that!

I stifled a chuckle at the sight of these heavily built football players jumping like scaredy cats after seeing a girl in their changing room.

"Whoa!" Chris' eyes widened a little. "What the hell?"

I started scanning the room for the player I was looking for. After a few seconds, he appeared from behind the set of lockers to check out the commotion and his brown eyes instantly landed on me, flashing with bafflement. He had been in the middle of running his hands through his hair and just stopped, a deep scowl forming on his lips.

"You." I pointed a finger straight at my enemy. "Outside. Now."

His eyes narrowed and the room fell more silent, if that was even possible. It was like people had stopped breathing now. Every movement ceased and the next sound they all heard was the slamming of the door when I shut it to go back into the corridor.

I exhaled, then quickly regrouped.

About ten seconds later, the door opened and a pissed off Matt stepped out. He didn't say anything. All he did was fold his arms over his chest and scrutinize my face, eyes burning in a silent rage.

I had a rule when it came to my enemy. Return an insult with an insult, an attack with an attack and a glare with a glare. Basically, tit for tat. Yeah, that's what I was getting at.

So, after a moment of both of us just trying to turn each other into ash with our glares, he finally demanded, "what the fuck do you want?"

"What do I want?" I scoffed. "You know damn well what I want. Don't you dare ask me that when you're not capable of giving it to me, Williams."

"So, what's the point of this?"

"To give you a choice. Either agree to train me or..." I stepped up to him and he raised a brow. "...I make you agree to train me."

He must've been expecting a more serious threat because the moment I was done, his scowl eased off and a speck of amusement flashed across his face.

He took a step forward and angled his face down to look me square in the eyes. As much as I didn't want to, I took a small step back and watched his realization of gaining the upper hand here wash over him as his eyes gleamed up with self-satisfaction.

"Make me."

I tightened my grip on the juice box I'd been carrying in my jacket and filled in a long breath, considering it for the next five seconds. Can I really do this?

When I didn't do anything, an annoying little smirk curled across his lips over getting the better of me again. Shrouded with an air of arrogance, he took a step back. "Before I go back into the changing room without paying any heed to your empty threats, tell me, Becks..." He took another step back, eyes still fixed on me. "Rebecca was good, right?"