Good Luck Kiss

One {1}

"If they give you ruled paper, write the other way." - Juan Ramon Jimnez

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Hey, guys! This is a BOYXBOY story, which means gay guys and junk like that. If it offends you, please vote, and then leave. LOL XD. But seriously. Don't leave me hate comments please. Although, I doubt people here really do that. ONWARDS WITH THE STORY, MY NOBLE STEAD!

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"Carter! You have to actually run to get the ball!" I shouted across the huge football field. He shrugged and pulled out his cell phone, his thumbs flying rapidly across the tiny keyboard. I clenched my jaw and my fists, but turned away from him instead of punching him in the face like I desperately wanted to.

"New recruits!" I called in a booming voice. The chicken-skinny freshman toddled over in the too-big armor the coach had provided for them. "If you want to be on this team I need cooperation, determination, and motivation. Do you think you guys can give that to me?"

The rookies just stood there, blinking around and staring at me. Two of the boys were snickering behind the group in the front.

"Freshmen!" I boomed. The two boys jumped about a mile in the air and came down with a high pitched squeak. "Front and center." I pointed to the spot in front of me.

They trudged over with downcast eyes. They were short boys, not fully developed yet. I knelt down to their height and looked them both in the eyes. "Do you want to be on this team?" I asked softly. They nodded eagerly. "Then you need to listen when I'm speaking to you! I am your captain," I stressed. "I am the peak of this team. Without a captain your team is nothing! Do you hear me? Nothing. Pay attention."

While they trembled in their helmets I split them all up into smaller groups to practice with the experienced players on how to throw and catch.

"Will!" Coach Bodin shouted, beckoning me with two fingers. I jogged over to him, patting a rookie on the back as I passed him, calling, "Good catch."

The coach was holding a clipboard, and a whistle was hung around his neck. He wore a football windbreaker and basketball shorts.

"What's up, Coach?" I slung an arm around his beefy shoulders.

"I just wanted to let you know that you're doing a great job at being captain," he venerated.

I beamed at him, but I knew there was something else he wanted to tell me. "But we've got a bit if a problem. We need to get into states and win the championship." He looked worried.

I shrugged. "That won't be a problem."

"Actually, it's gonna be a damn hard problem. We need to win, get this, twenty-six games."

"Twenty-six?!" I yelled, outraged. The players glanced in our direction, but I reassured them everything was alright. "Twenty-six?" I asked quieter.

He nodded solemly. I fisted my hands in my dark hair and groaned. What were we going to do? Our players weren't good enough to win twenty-six games! And these runts seriously needed to shape up.

"But don't we usually only play eleven games?" I hoped.

"Not this year," he sighed. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "I need you to push these boys extra hard." I nodded my head, painting my game face on.

"Line up!" I ordered. "Six laps around the field. Let's go!" I knew it wasn't that much to run, but for the boys without experience or muscle, it was definitely a chore.