Dang Fine Saviors

"No"

Please do not steal my ideas because (insert liam neeson voice here) I WILL FIND YOU AND I WILL KILL YOU.

"ON THE LINE," Coach instructs.

"Do you have a gun?" Missy questions me as we take our spots on the dreaded end-line of the soccer field.

"Not at the moment" I say sarcastically.

"Then strangle me because anything is better than this."

Coach whistles signaling us for our first (of many) sprints down and back the field. Out of breath we know the lecture that awaits us. The problem with short sprints and lectures that coaches don't seem to understand is that no one is going to listen to your dumb lecture. Everybody is occupied focusing on the next sprint you're about to force on them. Well lucky for her we know what she is talking about anyway. The Blue Dragons. Our Rivals. We had a decent game but a pitiful loss of 2-0. I had some okay shots on goal, but altogether we just weren't playing our best.

As Coach goes on and faces other girls, Missy and I make less than attractive faces at eachother to show how we feel about her little sprint-lecture combo. We have been playing soccer together since we were in diapers and we are pretty typical the way best friends go. I'm brunnette, she's blonde. I'm forward, she's midfield. We both like to talk. We enjoy being sarcastic. We definetely have enough differences to get in a fight every so often. But hey, who doesn't?

The awful sound of a whistle comes back and we are down the line again. And again. And again. I look to the sky and pray for a breeze, or any sort of tempeture drop. Missy holds up a finger reserved only for Coach. The faces we make are almost positively screenshot worthy.

Just my luck, the moment I join in on giving Coach a well deserved flipping off, she turns around. Oh sweet daisies. Coach is a broadshouldered she-man with a husky voice and a sun-reddened face, the most feared woman in all Broadview High School, emphasis on man. Like the well known saying goes, if you mess with her she will mess you up.

"Winters," she calls my last name in the most frightful voice possible.

"Sanderson," I smile her last name back hoping to cutesy my way out of this.

She glares at me for quite an awkward while, while I give her an I am so sorry I gave you the bird, I don't know any better, and I sure am forgivable, shrug with a smile.

She breaks the silence with, "We're done for today ladies,"

As we all start walking to the sideline for our water bottles she adds on, "Victoria you have fourteen minutes, I want eight laps."

I stare at her incredulous, "Coach we just did sprints!"

"I am aware"

Still out of breath everyone lets out a sigh of relief. Well everyone except me that is.

Missy gives me an apologetic face that says, I feel bad that you are about to run 2 miles... oh yeah don't expect me to go with you. I knew it was coming. Apparently friendship really does have its limits. I don't blame her anyway, there are not a lot of people that would join a good friend in a punishment that they deserve too. Okay nevermind.

I make my way torwards the cursed track even though I would much sooner throw myself underneath a car on the highway. As soon as I hear the whistle I am off. My legs feel like jello and death sounds like it would be nice right about now, but I go. And go. That's all I remember.

*********************

When my eyes finally open it's hard to say where I am. It's too dark to tell and I am too tired to care, I figure I came home after my run, I was just too tired to remember. With that thought I let my self fall back asleep.

**********************

The second time I come too there is a boy staring at me. An attractive boy. Green eyes, check. Brown hair, check. Chiseled features, check. Calculating stare, check. Big build, check.

I mentally remind myself to be cool, then realize that I must look like shiz anyway. I am five foot seven, I have brown hair, brown eyes and naturally tanned skin. I take pride in my curves, although I'd be okay with losing a little bit of leg. From my experience, the opposite sex mostly likes it. And I am mostly confident. But natural beauty can only go so far. I would feel a bit more secure with a sweep of mascara. I figure that it's probably a little unnatural that a guy is in my room watching me sleep anyway, so maybe I shouldn't be wondering what he thinks of me.

"Uuh. What are you doing here?" I ask.

He lifts his eyebrows in a condescending way, "I work here."

I look at my surroundings. Beige walls, dark curtain covered windows, very mysterious. I'm on what seems to be some type of gurny looking thing. Pretty, weird. Definetely not my room. Definetely not my house. I must've gotten dehydrated during my death run and someone brought me here.

"Could you direct me out? I have soccer practice that I shouldn't be missing," I lean back to shield the outrageous bed breath I must possess.

He looks bored, "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Can I ask why?" I say.

"No."

Gee did this guy want to get hit? Although I don't know if I would want to consider slapping his amazing tan face. Which by the way paired very nicely with the leather jacket he wore over a thin white tee-shirt.

"Okay. Good talk. I'm leaving," I say as I start toward the door. Something tugs at my arm. I find his arm gripping my elbow tightly. I feel too woozy to make him let go, I figure it's probably best if I lay down anyway, and I am enjoying his grip a bit too much. I get back on the bed and sigh. Something is going on, I'm feeling confused and my brain feels fuzzy.

"My neck hurts," I tell the hot gerk, "got any drugs for me?"

"No."

Is that the only word Hottie knows?

"Okay what are you good for sir? Are you just going to stare at me like a UFO until I magically feel better?"

"That's the plan," he answers dryly.

He speaks! Not sure how I feel about his new interest in words other than "no" though, I'm supposed to be the one giving the sass.

I perform my best whimper, "Really though, I feel like I just got shot, don't you have any morphine? Advil? Marijuana? I'll honestly take anything at this point."

I win an entertained half smile from him and darkness swallows me.

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This is my second time publishing this story, I decided that I wanted to work on two since its more interesting, with it being paranormal and all so yeah. Oh and I wanted to fix some stuff too.

Short chapter sorry. Okay so this is not a soccer story. Tori plays soccer, but that is only one of the things she does. Do not worry, we will get to the heartbreaking lust and Slates mysterious backround story in due time.

Not sure of what catagory this story falls in, I went with paranormal. Which probably makes the most sense. And please excuse any grammatical errors I may have (I am not even sure if grammatical is a word, but work with me? *cheeky smile emoji*). Well anyway, I will hopefully get to updating once a week, because of what little life I have.

And I can best friend promise this will be worth the read. Well hopefully. I'll try my best. Tell me what ya think? Don't give up on me!

Ps. I'll be updating in a day or two.