Friday Night Fire (T.Riggins)

Chapter Seven

Becca's outfit is in the external link

Tim's POV

"You're a piece of shit, Tim. You really are." Lyla snaps, slapping me across the face. I stumble back, looking at my feet. "You're just going to drop me because you found someone new? Well newsflash, Becca will never like you. She's too good for some drunken loser like you. You'll just bring her down."

I sigh, letting her words sink in. She pulls her shirt on, trudging around my room. "Lyla.." She twirls to look at me, holding her hand up to silence me. "Ly-"

"Shut up, Tim. I don't want to hear it. She's out of your league, she would never think of you as anything but a no-good-drunk. I don't know why you even got your hopes up, nobody is ever going to love you." She seethes, pulling her shirt down.

She storms out of my room, her boots in her hand. I follow, trying to figure out something to say other than her name. "Lyla, just calm down. You're the one who said this whole thing was a mistake in the first place."

She whips around, her hand on the door knob. "A mistake for me, Tim! Not a mistake for you! I am not a mistake! And to drop me for Becca? She's so far out of your league, it's pointless to chase after her!" She pulls the door open, her jaw gaping slightly at the sight in front of her.

Becca stands there, her face emotionless as she blinks at Lyla. "I was just going, let's hangout soon." Lyla smiles to Becca, walking down the driveway and getting into her car. The blonde looks up at me, her eyebrows creased.

"Becca.." I swallow, taking a step towards her. She takes a step away from me, looking anywhere but my face. "Please, just let me explain." She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut before looking up to me with a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"My father wanted me to tell everyone that practice is moved to three today. The guys at the diner said you would most likely be home. Sorry to bother you." She mumbles, her eyes showing anger.

She turns away, leaving me alone. "Becca, please! Talk to me." I call, jogging after her. I catch up, pulling at her wrist. "Please, let me explain."

She slaps my hand away, pushing at my bare chest. "No." She snaps, shoving me further from her. "You don't have to explain anything to me. I thought you were different, that you didn't just want to hold the title of the kid who was able to fuck the coaches daughter. I genuinely thought you were a good person."

"Becca, just listen. I only like -"

"Save it, Tim. I really, really do not want to hear your speech again just to walk up to your house and see Lyla leaving. I just want to leave." She sighs, looking up at the sky before blinking a few times.

I shake my head, reaching for her again. "Lyla means nothing to me, just come inside and let me explain this whole thing. I swear, that was the last time anything is going to happen between me and her, ever again."

"Leave me alone!" She yells, looking up at me with a sad face, breaking my heart. "I should've listened to everyone when they told me to stay away from you. How could I have been so stupid as to think you were worth my time?"

I open my mouth to speak, her head shaking at me. "I'm gonna go. Good luck at the game tomorrow." She almost whispers, slipping away from me and into her car. The door slams, leaving me alone in the driveway.

I jog to her door, leaning over the open window. "Please, please..just let me explain. I really like you, more than I've ever liked anyone. Let me explain myself, you deserve to know what happened."

"I don't care what you do with your life Tim, sleep with whoever you want. I don't want to listen to this, just let me leave." She sighs, her hands on the steering wheel. She looks up at me, chewing her lip nervously.

"I can't leave you alone. I can't get you off my mind. You're all I ever think about, every second of the day. Even your dad gets mad at me because I'm so distracted at practice. Let me explain myself." I try, eyes on hers.

She takes a deep breath, looking away from me. "You don't know a damn thing about me, Tim. You can't think about someone that much if you don't know anything about them what so ever. I want to leave, so please, let me."

I shake my head, stopping her. "I don't know a lot about you, but I sure as hell want to. I want to know what your favorite ice cream flavor is, what you do during your free time, what music you listen to when your sad. I want to know everything about you, if you'd give me the chance. I know I screwed up but I promise it will never happen again."

She stays silents, the only sound coming from her shallow breaths as she keeps her eyes downcast. I watch as her hand moves to the ignition, turning the key and starting the car. I sigh, knowing I blew my only chance.

"Strawberry." She says, putting her car in reverse. I raise an eyebrow, confused. "My favorite ice cream is strawberry."

She pulls out of the driveway, leaving me behind. I smile to myself, happy I finally got her to crack even a little. 

Coach Taylor's POV

"What they hell is going on?" I yell at Riggins, shoving at his shoulder when he jogs off the field. "You need to block, not let guys through to knock Saracen flat on his ass! What's wrong with you?"

He shrugs, his hair clouding his face. "I don't know coach. I can't focus tonight." He mumbles, his eyes on the ground. 

"What are you lookin' at? I'm right here." I snap, pointing to myself. He shifts his gaze, taking a final look before turning to face me. "What's going on? This isn't the 33 I know." I sigh, chewing my gum.

He nods, his eyes flickering back behind me. "It's nothing sir. I'm all set." He rushes, shifting from foot to foot. I place a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at me again. His feet drag on the grass when he turns.

"I want you to do something for me, okay?" I ask, waiting for him to nod. "Good. Now I want you to imagine that Saracen is someone you care about more than anything, someone you'd protect with your life. And I want to see Saracen get out of this practice without a scratch." 

He nods, eyes moving rapidly along the grass below our feet. "Got it, Coach."