eleven

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"Fuck me," I groaned as I hit the ground.

We were, who would have guessed, back on the soccer field. It was a warm Wednesday evening, a time I could have used to take a nap, but instead I was risking my life and well-being chasing a damn ball again.

"Stand up," Sam next to me said dryly.

I let out an exhausted sigh and rolled on my back. "You're the reason I'm on the ground in the first place, you get no saying in this."

"Yan, can you stand up?" Redmille called from the other side of the field. I flashed him a thumbs-up.

"I'm fine! Just go on with the game and let me here to die," I called back, closing my tired eyes. "And please don't step on me while you play."

Next thing I knew Sam grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet, not bothering to be careful. I shot her a look through narrowed eyes that was both filled with anger and shock, but she just turned around and jogged back to our teammates.

I rolled my eyes and slowly followed her, not really having enough motivation to move fast. Redmille blew his whistle, and the sharp sound echoed through the whole field.

"Go on with the game! Yan, sit on the bench."

"Aw, really?" I let out a frustrated sigh and turned direction, continuing to walk straight towards the Coach.

"I don't need you on the field if you're not giving a hundred percent," he said firmly, his eyes fixed on my teammates as I sat down on one of the benches on the stands.

"It's just practice," I said as I rolled my eyes. "And I'm tired. Maybe if we didn't have practice every day I would actually have the time to take a nap."

Redmille didn't even glance at me, and I decided that talking to him wasn't worth the effort, so I leaned back and tried to relax. The bench was hard though and the constant blow of Redmille's whistle just kept getting more and more annoying, so I ended up yearning for practice to be over already.

When it finally was, I was pretty sure I had grown a few grey hairs.

I walked over to where Asher's group and I had left our bags, glad that I could at last take off these damn soccer shoes. Tyler had said I would get used to them, but it had been what, over a week now? And they were still the most uncomfortable shoes I had ever worn.

"You played really good today," Asher said as he pulled out his water bottle. "You were so fast, I never even saw you on the field."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. "I can't wait for the day someone kicks that stupid ball into your balls."

"Happened already. Twice, actually," Gill said which earned her a glare from Asher.

"Gill," he said warningly.

"No, please, proceed," I said eagerly.

Gill locked her lips with an imaginary key that she threw far away and shot me an apologetic shrug. I sighed and stuffed my soccer shoes into my bag before contentedly slipping back into my worn out every day-shoes.

"Wanna come over for dinner?" Sam asked Gill. "Amina is making that soup you like."

In an instant, Gill's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, yes! Ugh, your aunt is the best."

Sam just shrugged. "I don't know. She bought me another one of those awful dresses, as if I would ever actually put them on."

"You wore a dress to my birthday last year," Gill said. "You looked pretty."

"Shut up."

Sam turned away, but I caught the way her ears were blushing.

"I can't believe you still don't know how to take a compliment," Asher said as he shouldered his bag.

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