Stolen Jerseys / ✓

1.09: chapter eighteen

S C O T T

There were no good tv shows on at two in the morning.

I never really stayed up that late, but I always figured that the same things were on in the afternoon where on in the middle of the night. But I was proven wrong as I skimmed through channels of golf matches, late-night cooking shows, and a lot of soap operas. (In other languages).

I groaned and dropped the remote, not paying attention to the Spanish soap on tv. Running a hand through my hair, I pushed myself off the couch stretched. It was around two in the morning, and I hadn't been able to get any sleep. Final try-outs were coming up and every time I laid down, my nerves got the best of me and I ended up just standing up again.

I heard Connor's door slam closed and I cursed under my breath, jumping back on the couch and pulling a pillow over my eyes. Connor had a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night, still half-asleep, and he was the most annoying person to talk to when he was like that. All he did was ramble about nonsense, and whenever I'd slip away, Connor would yelp about something new he thought of.

"I know you're awake," Connor sang, and I groaned, tossing the pillow off my face and propping myself up on my elbows. Con turned and grinned at me, "actually I didn't. But now I do."

"I hate you," I muttered, following him into the kitchen. I dropped down into one of the chairs by the kitchen table and propped my sock-clad feet up on the one in front of me. My stomach grumbled and I groaned again, "make something to eat."

Connor spent a good few minutes riffling through the cabinets and I leaned back in my chair, fingers folded behind my head. The cabinets had started to become less and less filled, and as Connor tossed empty boxes in the trash-can, I realized just how empty they were. We were practically down to a few cans of soup.

"We have nothing," Connor pouted and leaned against the counter. Running his fingers through his hair, he looked up and shot me a wide grin, "let's go get something to eat."

I rolled my eyes and leaned further back in my seat, barely supressing a yawn, "Let's go to bed."

"Together?" Connor smirked and wiggled his eyebrows and I scoffed, kicking out my seat and sucessfully nailing him in the leg. Mocking pain, he held up his hands in surrendor, "But really, 'm starving and we have no food. Plus - it's only two-thirty."

I scoffed and nodded, leaning forward to shoot Connor a dry look, "Only two-thirty? Just go get something.. Oh, get Chinese. I could go for some Chinese."

"I can't go alone!" Connor protested, tossing his hands up in the air and shooting me a pleading look, "I could get murdered! I mean.. Scott, come on. I'm fragile bones and nice hair, do you know how many people would could murder me?"

I smirked up at my best friend, "Right now, I can think of one."

"Exactly!" Connor said, completely ignoring what I said. He walked towards the end of the kitchen, stuffed his feet into a pair of sneakers and then walked back to me, "Hey, you know what I remembered? I never got to tell your teammates about Mr. Wiggles. I'm sure that would make a great story at next practice - "

Flipping Connor off, I reluctantly stood up and grabbed a pair of sneakers. I was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, so I grabbed a sweater, tugged it on, and followed Connor out the door. I really had no inclination to go out to eat in the middle of the night, but I was starving and anything was better than watching soap operas in another language.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and followed Connor into the parking lot of our apartment building. My car was in the shop, which meant for the next few weeks, I had to rely on Connor to drive me everywhere. Connor didn't have a problem with driving me anywhere, but he just wasn't the most trusted person during these things. I knew if I asked him to wait inside the car during practice, he would just follow me in, anyway.