Stolen Jerseys / ✓

1.00: chapter nine

S C O T T

I stared at Elle in utter disbelief, not exaclty comprehending what I was seeing. I couldn't believe that she had legitimately came to my apartment. Part of me wanted to slam the door shut and open it, just to see if my eyes were messing with me. And the other half of me wanted to just slam the door closed on Elle.

I leaned forward and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her to say something - anything. I knew she had showed up because I refused to go to practice and that made my blood boil. Just because I wanted to skip one practice didn't give her the right to show up at my apartment.

It was times like those I really regretted ever meeting Elle Monroe.

"Well?" I snapped, my voice sounding way harsher than intended. I frowned and cleared my throat. Narrowing my eyes, I ruffled up my hair, "Are you gonna tell me why you're here, or just stand on the threshold?"

Elle crossed her arms over her chest, shooting me a glare right back that just made me scoff. She had absolutely no right to glare at me or act like she was annoyed with me. She was the one that showed up at my apartment during movie night, after I had clearly stated that the practice she wanted was a no-go.

I crossed my arms over my chest and rocked back and forth on my heels. I was about to slam the door shut; the only reason I didn't do it was because of how rude that was. So, instead, I settled for glaring at her and waiting for whatever excuse Elle would work up. (Probably saying she thought we were gonna have practice, even after I said no).

When Elle said nothing, I groaned and rolled my eyes, "Seriously, Elle. I swear to God if you came here because of practice - "

"Actually, asshole," Elle snapped, cutting me off. She pulled a familiar looking jersey from behind her back and tossed it at me. I coughed and pulled it off my face, "you left your jersey at practice, and I knew my dad would murder you if he saw it. So I figured I'd be nice."

Oh God, I thought, twisting the jersey around in my hand. Guilt gnawed at my stomach and I opened my mouth then closed it, having nothng to say. Elle hadn't showed up to be an ass and try to drag me to practice.  She had shown up with completely good intentions, to bring me my jersey and save my ass from her dad.

And I had just been an absolute dick to her.

Fumbling with the jersey, I struggled to push out a coherent apology. I had assumed the worst of Elle when she had shown up, but she had done something nice. She had saved me from the possible wrath of Coach Monroe for lazily losing my jersey, and I had snapped at her the second I opened the door.

What kind of apology would make up for that? I knew nothing I could possibly say would make up for me being so rude to her, and doubting that she had come for anything other than practice. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and cleared my throat; I had to say something to attempt and make it up to her.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, cursing myself because - really? I'm sorry wasn't enough, "I'm really, really sorry, Elle. It was a - uh, bad night. But thank you so much for giving me my jersey. Seriously, it means a lot."

Before I could say anything - or see if Elle was going to accept my apology - Connor came over and bumped my hip. I cursed and stumbled to the side, my socks sliding against the wooden floor as I tried to gain my balance. I looked up and saw Connor standing in front of the door, a wide grin on his face.

I frowned and pushed my way back over. Elbowing Connor in the ribs, I attempted to step back where I was, though he held his ground. I glared but Connor didn't seem to notice; he just grinned at Elle and she smiled slightly back, though I could see she was still pissed off.