the locker room

chapter two

The school day ends after the series of classes, followed by eager students flooding into the once empty hallways. After stopping by my locker again, I head behind the bleachers to wait for Ainsley to arrive.

Like most high schools, Lightenburg had a vast campus. A majority of our towns sports activities and festivities were held on these premises. Besides the pizza, their facilities were one of the only things they had to offer its students.

My mind wandered back to my last class of the day, Calculus. I found myself enjoying it a little more than usual. Despite not wanting to admit it, Damon's presence made the class much more enjoyable, even with his silence.

Watching girls react to him every time every time he appeared in the room was priceless. They stopped in their tracks, staring at him as if Jesus Christ himself strolled in with his middle fingers up. They were giving him too much credit.

It was the bad boy aura that sold them. The tattoos, especially.

Permanently inked skin had never been appealing to me, and he wasn't an exception. He had dozens covering what looked to be every inch of his tanned figure, but somehow the look worked.

My parents would throw a temper tantrum, or more realistically, disown me if they ever discovered I had one, no matter the size.

All in all, Calculus was probably the best part of my day, aside from eating lunch. We'd been in the cafeteria just hours before, and I still found myself yearning for a snack. I liked food just as much as the next girl, maybe even more. Thank God for a fast metabolism.

As my eyes scan my phone screen, I see Ainsely's mop of blonde hair coming into view. The grin on her face is wide enough I fear it'll get stuck that way. "Hey, babe," she greets me, keeping up with the name she'd been using for years.

She claims it's for "equality between best friends and boyfriends." I couldn't argue with her about it, but of course, Noah happened to disagree.

"Hey Ains," I say back, flipping the hair from my eyes.

"We're gonna go and sit at the top of the bleachers in about fifteen minutes. Before I can think about anything, we need food. I lack vitamin pizza."

Without any protest on my part, she drags me in the direction of a mouthwatering aroma.

"I don't think that's a thing," I counter.

"It is now."

We reach the food shack after a ten minute discussion on whether pineapple belongs on pizza.

The answer is obviously no. You can't possibly enjoy fruit that isn't tomato on a pizza. But Ainsley disagreed, claiming the contrast of salty to sweet is to die for.

Disgusting.

Before I know it, we reach the front of the line and Ainsley is speaking indistinctly, drawing me from my thoughts.

"Fries, a cheeseburger or pizza?"she asks, scanning the items displayed on the window.

The shack, as we called it, only ever came to our school when there was a sports related event happening. They served delicious greasy food for low prices. If you ask me, it was the perfect way to get teenagers to go broke.

"Is that even a question? Everything,'' I reply, eyeing the selection of food in front of us.

"Can we get three of each please?" she asks as we reach the front of the line.

Jack, the guy behind the register, nods and takes down our order. "That will be eight dollars."

I take the polka dot wallet from my back pocket, handing him the crumbled bills before Ainsley could protest. He smiles, promising that the food will be ready in a couple minutes. We've only had a couple of classes together over the years, but he seems friendly.

As expected, Ainsley bumps my shoulder and pouts. "You didn't have to pay for that."

I wave her off, not bothering to address her concern. She shoots me a stern look at which point I pout back, earning a laugh from her. We peel away from the line to wait and let the other customers pass.

"So, Veronica, you know the winter formal is coming up in a couple of weeks, right? Well, you don't have a date, do you?"

I blow out a breath big enough to threaten the Big Bad Wolf before she can continues. I already know what's coming up. Ainsley was practically my sister and my love for her was equal to my love of food. Despite this, at times she had me questioning my will to live. She has the idea that I am in dire need of a guy to fill my "empty void of nothingness" branded in her mind. Once again, her words not mine.

But to be honest, I'm doing just fine. Sure, third wheeling can be a pain in the ass, but boys are like dogs: hard to handle and easily distracted by anything that squeaks. And of course, I would never judge them for how they decide to live their lives; even though I don't agree with it, that didn't make it my business.

"You know I don't need a date, Ains. I don't even think I'm going. Netflix and Dylan O'Brien will keep me busy. Trust me."

The thought of spending the night in bed, binging my favourite shows and eating everything I could get my hands on was calming.

She groans dramatically, throwing her head back as I was being the difficult one here. "I know that, Veronica. I just thought that finding you a date would be fun. You only went to one dance this year, and this is the last one."

I tilt my head to the side and stare at my blonde best friend. Her persistence should have made me a lot happier, but I only wanted to take her share of the food at this point. My indifference only propels her cause and she continues.

"Please Ronnie, you have to come. I swear we'll have fun and if you don't, we can leave at any time okay?" She bats her eyelashes and juts out her bottom lip, knowing how quickly I would give in after she pulls that stunt.

"Sure, fine, set me up. Just no generic fuckboys, please." I sighed, hoping to drop the subject. But maybe it would be fun. And it was the last dance before prom, anyway.

A devious laugh slips past her lips and I can't help but inwardly cringe. "I already have the perfect guy in mind."

I was about to reply and question her, but I decide against it. It wouldn't be that bad, right? Ainsley has pretty good taste after all. It would be a night I hope I wouldn't regret.

"Isn't that Noah running towards us?" she asks suddenly. I spin around and sure enough her sweaty boyfriend is running down the sideline to us.

"Babe you said you'd wait to get me food!" he whines, attempting to pull her into an embrace, but she puts her arms out to keep him away.

"Sorry baby, fries before guys."

"That's not what you were saying yesterday when I was-"

I found myself coughing and gagging like a maniac, desperate to not know whatever the hell it was Noah was doing yesterday.

They laugh and ignore my disgust, leaving kisses all over each other anyway.

I take that as my cue to leave and head over to retrieve our forgotten food. Drooling at the delicious smell, I set it on a bench closer to the field, enabling us to watch the tryouts and eat at the same time.

After ten minutes, the duo finally shows up to help me eat what was left of the food. Eventually Noah departs and leaves Ainsley and I alone.

The Coach had yet to arrive so the guys mill around the field. When the thin, long-haired guy arrives with his clipboard, we head to the top of the bleacher.

*

Half-way to the end of the tryouts, we're yelling our hearts out in the bleachers. We were cheering for not only Noah, but for the rest of the guys too. Honestly, yelling was just fun. 

Noah was doing well compared to the other guys, having scored two goals and getting several assists. There had to be at least three scouts here looking for prospective players worthy of scholarships. All of a sudden this seems more intense than just try-outs.

I spot one from the school I'd been dreaming of enrolling in for years now, UCLA. My mom and dad had always been the type of parents that lived by a motto - " If you want something, only you can stop yourself from achieving it." I spent countless hours researching and studying the school, trying my best to educate myself. Their motto has stuck with me ever since I had the ability to talk.

The match was set to end in around six minutes. So far in the scrimmage, Noah's team was beating the other team by two points. Just as the ball gets taken to the other side of the field, I notice Damon come onto the field and join the rest of the guys.

The mostly female audience takes that well to that and cheers even louder when he begins to play, boosting his ego furthermore.

"Woohoo! Go Noah! Touchdown!" Ainsely shouts. Incorrectly. Most of the people around us to stare, but she's oblivious enough to continue spewing out the wrong terminology.

"I don't think that's how it works Ains." I stifle a laugh, which also goes unnoticed.

"I know what my boyfriend plays, honey."

I let my eyes wander over the field and I can't help but stare at the new mysterious boy, watching his biceps flex with every slight move he makes. The uniform he wears clings to his torso like second skin, creating a perfect view of all he had to offer.

He is gorgeous, that was undeniable. But from what I had come to hear today, his personality wasn't his best trait.

Apparently, he oozes cockiness and arrogance, but most Lightenburg guys did so I wasn't surprised that he managed to fit in so well, probably finding comfort amongst them.

With one last whistle the boys run off the field. We walk down the bleachers and as soon as we reach the last step Ainsley runs into Noah's arms, as dramatically as possible.

"Whoa, Ains," he laughs, gripping her waist and staggering a bit. He looks tired and even more sweaty than before, understandably so.

"That was amazing, babe!" she yells, letting go of him after a few more seconds.

"Yeah, well done Noah, you did great." I chirp, receiving a grateful smile in return.

"They said I made the team! Well, me, Damon and a couple of other guys. They didn't let in many new players this year."

I was in no shock that Damon managed to secure a spot; his skill was evident.

"That's great baby!" his girlfriend cooes.

He looked down at her hungrily and I rolled my eyes. "Veronica, do you mind going to get my duffel bag from the boys locker room?"

He didn't have to ask me twice. The moment they lock lips, I bolt.

I trudge across the nearly vacant parking lot, making my way to the other side of the school. The only remaining car is Noah's, accompanied by a dope motorcycle I have never seen before. It was a beauty and before I knew it, I was standing there, inspecting it from all sides.

To be honest, though, motorcycles are glorified death traps and I would never have the guts to get on one. But that didn't take away from how fun they were to look at. Its spotless black exterior is smooth to the touch, beaming in the afternoon sun. I even envied those who could manage riding one without falling off in the process. The adrenaline probably feels amazing - the rush of blood pumping through your veins and hair blowing in the wind.

Laughing, I knock myself out of my trance and continue on my quest. When I reach the doors of the locker room, I press my ear against the door to listen for any boys. The last thing I aspired to do was end up bumping into a sweaty jock. Imagining what a blubbering i***t I'd be, struggling to concoct an explanation, was something I wanted to avoid at all costs.

Not a single sound could be heard through the door and I practically squeal in satisfaction. I twist the doorknob, pulling the door open and stepping inside. The blue Nike duffel bag catches my attention immediately in the corner of the room just as someone rounds the corner.

I scream and shield my eyes, turning toward the door as apology after apology spews from my lips. The male behind me, presumably half naked, just chuckles to himself. My ragged breathing stills.

Damon.

***

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