The Perfect Game (GxG) (cliffhanger/completed)

Three : Pre-Game Rivalry

Jessica O'Lauryn

I walk out the side doors, passing the four white pillars that say Home Of The Crusaders in big purple block lettering, passing the Two Trees (the infamous kissing spot, apparently) and walk behind the North Thurston Prep Auditorium and finally stroll into the gated Fouts Field, or South Sound Stadium. I glance up at the covered stands, which will be filled with purple and white not to many hours from now, there's a big poster of Cazetti after making a seventy yard TD pass, cherishing her smile, I start thinking about how Hallie will probably purposely drop me tonight to make me look bad.

My smile fades as the pain already swells in my back and other sensitive regions of my body. Would she really do that? I mean, wouldn't it make the whole team look bad? Yeah, yeah, it would. Right? I don't know.

As I amble towards the snack bar, I realize Nani and I will never be able to go to a game on a date, because we will both be participating. One more important than the other. Placing my hand on the dull purple unlit menu, I listen as the rest of the team files through the far gate, keys jingle and I hear my name several times before I hear; "She's such a hoe for trying to go after my ex, like, what is she trying to prove?" Hallie hisses.

"Maybe nothing, maybe she doesn't even like her, and she's just trying to find friends. I remember being called the same things when I moved here because you didn't like that Nani tried to talk to me one day and you happened to see. And I'm as straight as...I don't know. I'm just really straight." It's Sam. God, I love her, I think as I walk across the track, and onto the soft and squishy turf.

I see Hallie roll her eyes and watch her lips part as she mutter something, "Finally come to help?"

"You haven't started anything yet," I point out, and set my bag on the side bench, far away from all the other bags. Sam looks hurt, picks up her bags and hobbles over, placing them next to mine. She smiles at me, light brown eyes beaming.

Haley snarls, "let's get to work." She starts directing where things go, how they are placed, and what doesn't need to be placed. The purple box stands go on the second lane of the track, horizontal to the stands, the main four Thurston banners symmetrically hung between the 10 yard and the other 10 yard line, put the trash cans on every other entry, so on and so forth.

We have half the stadium set when the guys, and girl, come through the gates, walking swiftly, carrying more banners and posters and stuff like that. One of them, Ty, I think is his name, is carrying paint. I lean over to Sam, who is helping me set the boxes just right, and ask quietly, "What's that for?"

She glances up in the direction of the noise, "We re-paint the Thurston sign every home game, so it always looks fresh. It's sort of like... a tradition, I guess." She continues to smile in the direction of the football players, and I know she's spotted her boyfriend.

We finish the boxes just as someone comes up behind us, "hey, you." Nani's voice is still smooth and confident, so I start to doubt it was the beer that makes her talk like that. She wraps Sam in a big bear hug, smiling she drapes her arm over my shoulder and pulls me tight, "you actually gunna fly tonight?" She's referring to my position on the team as a flyer.

I roll my eyes, and smirk, "If Hallie doesn't kill me first, yeah."

Nani laughs, glances around, and leans in so that her lips graze my ear, "we could play the perfect game ya know." I don't really comprehend what she says, I just acknowledge the fact that she's breathing on my neck, I acknowledge that she smirks, and kisses my forehead, but nothing of what she said. The kiss is nothing special, just a quick peck, but it feels like heaven. I want her to do it again, and again, and again. I don't think anyone notices, because I'm pretty sure that would get instant feedback, and a good punch in the nose, so I blush and watch her walk away. I notice she's changed her warm up sweats into slightly baggy dark denim jeans; a black bandanna hangs from her right back pocket, bold white letters that say EST 19XX sway back and forth. Damn, I always choose the gangbangers. I smile, thinking of what my brother might say while shaking his head; good girls always want the wild ones.