Hazel's point of view.
"GO VINCE! WHOO!" I scream from the bleachers, shivering at the cold autumn weather.
"Christ, you know you could cheer a bit for your brother too, Haz. He might get upset," Neil tells me from the bench.
His right leg is caught in a plaster cast from getting tackled so hard his bone fissured last game. He's a tough cookie needless to say. He grins. I frown down at him dismissively and pay attention to the field again.
The cheerleaders carry out their choreography in their short skirts. Vince bolts across the field, ball in hand. He scores the winning point. I jump eagerly. The crowd roars to life. Neil chuckles, clapping. Eve, the captain of the cheerleading team, doesn't forget to shake her bum when Vince jogs by her, victorious. He doesn't notice her.
"Vince!" I call out.
He doesn't notice me either. Instead, he walks up to a girl standing towards the right edge of the field. She's drowning in the fabric of one of Vince's jerseys, a proud 2 on the back. He sweeps her off her feet and kisses her so rough it seems bruising. Her messy brown hair striped with bright pink strands flies everywhere. She reciprocates (who wouldn't, anyway?) and slips a hand into his sweaty hair. I look away, straight into Neil's sorry eyes. He opens his mouth to say something. I don't want to hear it.
"You could've at least pretended to cheer for me, Haz," Parker pants out, unknowingly saving me from Neil. His face has gone pink, brown hair sticking to his temples.
I shiver harder. Maybe I should've worn a coat. Or a sweater. Or both.
"That's what I told her. Didn't listen." Neil shrugs, throwing a towel right in Parker's face.
Parker grabs it and whams Neil with it. They exchange hits like small kids.
"You should try giving me something to cheer for then," I say, rolling my eyes at their childishness.
The other players come by, complimenting each other on the plays and the game. Inevitably, they look for Vince and, inevitably, find him making out with that girl against the side of the bleachers. I catch myself watching unconsciously too and wishing I was the one Vince was kissing.
"Who's the chick?" a player asks.
I wonder too. But at the same time, I don't really want to know. My eyes are now glued to Vince's wide back as she shoves her hands into his football gear. The voices of the players and the sound of the departing crowd blurs out a bit. I feel cold. And a little sick in my stomach too.
"I don't know. Must be new."
"Doesn't matter. God knows she won't last."
"Nobody ever does."
I snap back to reality when Neil reaches up to nudge my foot.
"What?" I ask.
"There. You're shaking." He slips off his sweater and hands it to me.
I reluctantly take it, eyeing my brother for approval. He squeezes a spray of water into his mouth and throws me an approbatory side eye. Satisfied, I smile and wear the sweater, finally at ease.
"Mind helping me inside?" Neil asks.
I figure he's asking the other players as they are irrationally stronger than I am but find his gaze fixated on me.
"Me?"
"You," he answers.
"Yeah, okay." I nervously chew my lip, hopping off the bleachers.
Vince and that girl are still going, unsurprisingly. The players slowly start disappearing into the lobby, entering the locker room. None of them even try to help Neil up. I purse my lips and pull him to his feet, walking him back into our highschool and into the locker room.
When Vince finally strolls back into the football team's lobby, he shoots me a smile of acknowledgment. I grin back, my cheeks heating. That fucking perfect smile of his, I swear. He's huffing and flushed, lips kissed swollen. The other players hoot at him, swarming around him to playfully nudge his ribs, slap his back, squeeze his shoulders and kick his butt. I stand back and watch Vince chuckle in pride, tossing his helmet into his locker.
"Who was that?" Aaron asks, definitely not known for being tight-lipped.
"Just a girl." Vince shrugs, fiddling with his gear.
I lean against the wall interestedly. It's been so long since I first warily entered the locker room. My brother was terrified of what I would see or... smell. I wasn't. I sat there, Parker made sure nobody minded his little sister hanging out. They didn't because, well, little sister says it all. And since then, I've been taking part in the juicy locker room gossip of the football team. I know who they hate, who they love, who they have the hots for. And I agree, mostly. Just not with the myriad of girls Vince manages without a fail to pull every now and then. But it's not like I have any say in that anyway. After all, I'm the best friend's little sister, that's it.
Vince shuffles around evasively, casting a quick second glance on me. He smirks down at his sport bag.
"Nice sweater, Stiles," he says, as if my brother doesn't have the same last name as I do.
"Ain't it?" a player answers for me.
More eyes curiously peer down at my clothes.
I shrug. "I was cold. I'd take your jersey if you offered."
"Nah," he casually rejects me, walking away towards the common showers.
The players laugh. At me, at him. At my endless attempts. I don't even feel embarrassed anymore. I laugh at myself with them.
"You know the jersey spot is always taken," a player reminds me.
I scoff in agreement, no rejoinder left in me to deny that.
"Why do you like him so much anyway?" Parker asks as if he hasn't done so a thousand times already.
I answer the same as I did the first thousand times around. "Because he's Vince, Park. He's perfect."
The players soundly cringe. I roll my eyes at them and scurry back towards the exit.
"I think I forgot my water bottle outside!" I yell, already halfway out the door.
I, in fact, did not forget my bottle. I'm not even sure I brought one today but they surely don't care enough to notice. I get back on the field and look around. It's empty. I frown and circle the bleachers, walking into the parking lot. After some searching, I find her. That girl. The one that was with Vince. She's still wearing his jersey. What a waste. I hate her already. I storm towards her as she approaches a car (probably her own, she doesn't seems to be from our high school). Where does Vince find those girls anyway? At parties maybe? Doesn't matter.
"Hey!" I shout.
She jumps and turns around, confused.
"What?" I hate her voice too.
"Who are you?" I ask.
Her confused expression soon turns into bratty annoyance.
"Who are you?" she returns the question.
"Whatever. Give me the jersey and leave," I order.
"Pardon?"
"The jersey. It's not yours. Hand it back and piss off."
She scrunches her nose in disgust at me. My blood boils.
"It's Vince's. I don't know what the hell you're talking about," she spits.
I scoff. Her insolence is unacceptable. Doesn't she know that Vince doesn't even remotely like her? Doesn't she know he's using her for sex?
"Listen up, now. Vince is mine. He loves me more than he'll ever even like you. So don't play sly with me and get the fuck out of here." I bare my teeth a bit. She's not impressed.
"And what if I refuse?"
I send a tight slap across her face. She stumbles back, tears beading in her eyes.
"What the fuck!" she sobs in pain.
Another slap. The girl bumps back into her car. She can't escape me anymore. I watch her reaction fiercely. Her face is stained with mascara tears.
"That fuckboy isn't worth your shit. I bet he has a fuckload of STD!" She chucks the jersey at me in disdain and slips in her car, locking the doors.
I smirk cockily as the car furiously leaves the parking lot. Definitely a college girl. Too old to be in high school, too immature to be in university. Ridiculous. Vince wouldn't get an STD, no way. He's too careful for that. She clearly doesn't understand him like I do. His physical health matters too much to him for that. Football passes before everything, even I. I learned to accept it. She could never. To get rid of the last one, I pretended I was hit. And the one before, I pretended I was verbally bullied. What can I say, they were a little stickier than this pink-stripped girl. I giggle at the thought of Vince being single for a couple days at least. He always allows me to be a bit more over him when he doesn't have someone to screw. I cling to Vince's jersey proudly. I'm not going to wear it. Not yet. I want him to be the one to give it to me. I want it to be because he cares. One day, I want him to give me his jersey because he loves me. I slowly walk in the cold parking lot, all smiles.
I spot a figure, far in the parking lot, close to the school building. It might be someone I know. I don't really care and it doesn't really matter. I'm just glad that girl is gone at once. I didn't like her hair. I bet Vince didn't like her much either. She looked like she tasted like eating fruit after brushing your teeth. Gross.
I barge into the changing room. Vince is drying his hair, Neil is cackling with some of the other player. Their attention sets on me all at once.
"Did you find your bottle?" a player asks me.
"No. I found this instead." I toss Vince his jersey.
He grabs it and observes it. With an eyebrow cocked in bewilderment, he stares at me.
"That girl said she didn't want it anymore. It stinks, she said." I wink at him, teasing.
The players laugh loudly and some of them give me high fives. Vince, lightly chuckling, sniffs the fabric of the jersey. He quickly shots up, nose scrunched.
"She's not wrong." He seems to consider it further and suddenly cracks into a grin. "I gotta say, that's an interesting way to get dumped." He looks at me, smiling as always, straight in the eyes. I try not to melt.
Neil clears his throat. When I turn to look at him, his eyes are already set on me.
"Parker got a call, if you're wondering why he went out," he says.
I whip my head around. He's right. Parker isn't there and I hadn't even noticed. When I look back at Vince who's already moved on from that girl and joking around with his teammates, I bite back a smile. His eyes are bright, his smile is wide, his shoulders stretch the shirt that he's thrown on, his dirty blonde hair is still damp and he's hot. Crazy hot. Crazy perfect. I can't resist him. At all.