Stolen Jerseys / ✓

1.07: chapter sixteen

"Scott, it's a ten minute walk in practically one direction."

I rolled my eyes, "I'm just trying to save you from all the possible dangers," I protested, ignoring Elle when she rolled her eyes again, "but all right. If I can run more laps than you, we can ditch practice and do what I want. But if you run more than me, then I'll stay and practice, even if it storms."

Elle didn't hesitate; she pushed herself up and grinned, "It's on."

I shot her back a cocky smirk, sure this was the one bet I would win. Not only did playing hockey involve a lot of stamnia, you also had to be able to skate and run for long periods of time. I spent my weekends going for runs in the park; I was positive I'd be able to win and coax Elle into doing something else.

"I'll go easy," winking, I leaned forward and was off.

Heaving a sigh, I dropped down onto my knees and coughed. Elle stood next to me, bent over, hands on her knees. I had run a total of seventeen laps - exactly one more than Elle had. But I had sprinted like mad, and the rain had started to blind me. Basically, my whole chest was on fire.

I groaned and laid my head back, the rain pounding against my hot skin. Swallowing tightly, I closed my eyes and heaved out another sigh. After collecting my breath, I pushed myself back up and grinned cockily at Elle, who's face was bright red. Despite not having that long of legs, she could still sprint like hell.

"Well," I said, keeping the same grin on my face, "let's get in the car before it gets any worse."

Getting in the car, I threw my soaking wet bag in the backseat. Elle sighed and leaned back in her seat, wet hair curling. I sighed too and cranked up the heat, slowly pulling out of the parking lot. The rain was steadily getting worse, and it was now accompanied by thunder and lightning.

I drove almost blindly for a few minutes, windshield wipers furiously swiping across the window. I bit my lip and slowed down, looking out my window and trying to place where I had driven to. I couldn't see anything, let alone know if I had even made a wrong turn. Shit.

"Where the hell are we?" Elle said, voice tinged with obvious annoyance. She leaned forward and squinted, "It's coming down really bad. Pull into a parking lot or something and see if we can wait it out."

I nodded and swerved to the left, pulling into the parking lot right across from me. I frowned and leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of the sign on the building in front of us. I propped my elbows on the steering wheel and grinned when I saw a flash of the name: Reynold's Arcade. We had ended up at a perfect spot.

"Let's go!" I said, already unlocking the doors. Elle glared and shook her head, nodding to the downpour outside, "Elle, I won the bet, which means we have to go out and go to the arcade in front of us."

Elle's jaw went slack, light eyes widening, "You want to go into an arcade? You really are a child trapped in a man's body."

Despite her saying that, Elle pushed her door open and got out. Grinning, I pushed my own door out and jogged to the front door of the arcade. I pushed the door open and followed Elle in, shaking out my head and running my hands through my wet hair. Hot air greeted us immediately, along with various games lined up against the wall and bright, neon colors.

"I'll get the tickets," I offered, walking towards the counter. Pulling my wallet out, I gave in enough money for a good amount of tickets. I ran a hand through my wet hair again and grabbed the roll, making my way towards Elle, "Pick a game."

Elle scanned the arcade, eyes bright, "Let's see if you're good at any other sports."

I trudged behind her as she walked towards the arcade-style basketball nets in the corner. Laughing, I cracked my knuckles and put in enough tickets for both the machines. Flashing her a challenging smile, I leaned forward and grabbed my mini-basketball, launching it forward.

Only to have it bounce off the rim.

I was a hockey player. I had never really played any sports, aside from track. Basketball, though, had always been my least favorite. No matter how hard or light I threw the ball, it always seemed to bounce off the backboard, or just skim the rim. There was never an in-between - the ball never made it.

Elle, though, was a different story when it came to basketball.

I watched in wonder as practically every single one of her shots went in. I glared as each ball easily rolled on the rim, then dropped into the net. Not a single one bounced off the backboard, or skimmed the rim. Every fucking shot went in.

When the dinger went off, I narrowed my eyes at the score. While Elle had managed to score a total of thirty, I was stuck at five. Five points.

I crossed my arms and pouted, "So you're good at basketball," scanning the arcade, my eyes landed on the bright, flashing air-hockey table. My pout turned into a grin and I turned to Elle, "let's see how good you are at air-hockey then."

"If you win, is that gonna make you feel like a better hockey player?" I knew Elle didn't mean it offensively; she had that challenging glint in her eyes.

I smirked, "A little scared to play, are we?"

Shaking her head, Elle pulled out a couple of tickets, "It's on Wilson."

As I followed after her, I thought about was Connor had said to me the other night. But he was wrong; we were just two friends. Two very close friends.