Skinny Love

14.| Ref

I grab some tissues from the girls locker room and return back to my bench quickly.

I look over at the ref, who is just looking at the bloody towels doing nothing. Not even a damn foul.

I know better than to open my mouth and say something, but no way am I going to just sit back and watch the other team walk all over my girls because they're team is bigger.

"Hey!" I yell towards the ref, "Where was the foul?" I could get kicked out for this. I don't care.

"Excuse me?" He says walking over to me.

He gets really close to me and puffs his chest out so much that he's looking down at me.

"I have a bleeding player." I retort.

"Well I'll be damned, Miss Big Shot, I must not have seen the blood or commotion." He sneers.

Why is this escalating so quickly. Toxic masculinity much.

"Hey, step away, buddy." Now Tom is behind me, hand on the fuming refs shoulder.

Some people just aren't used to someone treating them without un-earned respect.

He doesn't remove his gaze from mine, and I don't back down either. "I suggest you move before I make a call to Henry Brown and let him handle you."

The large referee's eyes go wide and he immediately turns and blows his whistle, "Foul on white!" He calls.

Tom asks me if I'm okay, to which I respond with an, "Just a stupid ego." And he returns to his seat.

"That was hot." Some one whispers in my ear from behind.

"This is very unprofessional, Mr. Hill. I have a team to get to." I say smugly walking away from him.

He laughs before running back and jumping over the first two stands and sitting next to Tom.

My very known close relationship with Coach B proved pretty useful in that situation.

The game continues, and not one more foul is "missed".

✈︎_ _ _ _ _ _ _

We won.

Final score, 33-19. Proud coach moment right there.

My mother got off early tonight and we planned on having dinner with Tom at home.

We are walking out of the school, before the ref might I add, and over to Tom's car which is parked intentionally right next to ours.

"Hey, you know if you don't have any other plans, we were going to have dinner at their's and if you maybe wanted to-" Tom says. Almost-- Nervously?

"It's a Saturday night, of course he has pla-" I start.

"I'd love to." Ivor interrupts smiling.

This man still somehow finds out the times of every practice and game and shows up, much to my excitement.

And I know he has other friends, his best friend does have a girlfriend though. Who happens to be my best friend. That could be fun.

Tom and I get into his Bugatti, which the license plate reads "surge0n" I mean as he should I guess.

Ivor slips into his Jeep and we start driving.

My knee is slightly throbbing from the little run I did when Sarah was hurt, I hate that.

I hate that I ran from one room to another and now my knee is going to bother me for the rest of the night. I wish I could still play basketball, and run the school's track, and race coach B through the field in front of the younger track team.