Right now I'm in sixth period Spanish II bored of my mind. Currently, I’m drawing Mickey Mouse with an elephant trunk where a three-page essay should be. I’ve been drawing this abomination for about ten hours. Dozing in and out of consciousness. One thought in particular. One memory to be exact. A memory of a voice. Of their voice...

“Yo Anderssen,” a distant voice beaconed to me.

I respond to the unknown voice with an attractive, “Wha?” I look up from my little daydream session, mouth ajar, to see Corey looking at me with a face equal parts confused equal parts disgusted.

“Uh, if your done drooling over that weird-ass drawing, let's go we got practice today.”

What, did I miss the bell? I wiped the drool from my chin and began to shove my various underused stationary into my book bag. “You have practice, however, I do not.” I zipped up my bag and slung it over my back. Corey followed me as I walked out of the classroom.

“Wait, why not?”

“Uh, I don’t know Corey, detention maybe?”

“Wait, Coach was serious?”

I shake my head, “What do you think Corey,” I scoffed. We make our way to my locker so this torture can end and another can take its place. We make our way to my locker so this torture can end and another can take its place. We reached my locker and I began to empty my backpack’s contents indiscriminately into it.

“Usually coach lets us off easy with a warning.” I rolled my eyes. “Obviously not this time, Corey.” I could feel myself getting more and more irritated by the second.

We arrived at Coach’s room and I waited for Corey to leave.

I walked in and was immediately greeted by glares from Coach and the little asshole who got me into trouble. His glare, somehow, was more of a condescending side-eye. “Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence, your majesty,” coach sneered. I smirked and then curtsied. Jesse scoffed and proceeded to stick his nose in his book.

I took a seat on the complete opposite side of the classroom from the brown-haired midget.

Coach leaned back on his desk at the front of the room and crossed his arms. The room stayed silent for a couple of minutes beside a turned page here and there. Coach tilted his head slightly. “What's wrong with the both of you, huh,” Svelte asked. I shrugged. Jesse looked up from his book and said, “Why don’t you ask your star player” I turned towards the pygmy. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He laughed, marked the page he was on, and calmly said: “You’re the one who started it, in the first place.”

“How did I start it?”

“Wait, were you not the asshat who threw that plane?”

Coach began to massage his temples. “So you're telling me that this whole fight was over a paper plane.” Jesse rested his head in his left hand. “More like what was on the paper.”

“What was on the paper?” Coach crossed his arms again.

There was a pause in the dialogue. I realized what I actually wrote on the paper. Fuck can I get kicked off the team for that? I looked left at him. He side eyed me. So I may or may not have given him the power to fuck me over.

He raised one of his eyebrows. I don’t know what my face must have looked like to him but he scoffed.

“He drew something….phallic,” Jesse sighed before going back to his book.

What the fuck does phallic mean? Coach’s began to squeeze the bridge of his nose and let out a big sigh. “I don’t know what’s worse the fact that you were drawing penises,” Coach directed his hand in my direction. Oh, it means dick. Wait did he just make a cover up my dumbass? “Or the fact,” Coach continued, “that you two actually got into a fight about it.”

A part of me wanted to say: “Did I draw it too big for you,” but I’m already in his debt, so let’s not go and piss him off more than he already is. Or at least I think he is. I honestly can’t tell, with that permanent scowl of his.

“Alright, I hope you’re both happy because now you two are spending an extra hour with me,” Coach sneered.

Unable to resist the urge I said’ “There's no place I’d rather be.” Svelte then gave me a look. Coach went beyond staring daggers at me. This dude was staring actual nukes at me. That vein in his forehead started poking out again.

I heard a sound not related to Coaches throbbing face. It was a chuckle. A quiet one. I looked to my left. Could it be, is Jesse laughing at my jokes? I never thought I’d see the day. A part of me feels really proud right now. He looked up from his novel and made eye contact with me for half of a second. I felt my stomach droop down a little.

“What's wrong with you,” Coach asked, “Did your parents neglect to spank you when they were raising you?”

“They definitely neglected me,” I retorted while making an unbelievably sad face, “Don’t...don’t you feel sorry for me.

Jesse looked up from his book and silently chuckled, “Oh…. no.”

“Are done being a complete jackass, now,” Coach asked rhetorically.

I looked up at the ceiling and tapped my chin as if I were in deep thought. “Nearly,” I joked.

Coach crossed his arms again and his frown turned into a smirk. I know that smirk. That's the “Imma make you my bitch at practice later” smirk. I think I might skip practice later.

Some time went by, the sun’s light took on a reddish orange. I wanted to check my phone for the time, but Coach threatened to add another 30 minutes if I took my phone out. I took out some paper and continued my hideous drawings from earlier before. Huh, it almost looks like an animal.

I yawned and stretched. Whilst in my stretch I saw something. Something I honestly can’t explain. It was something really, pretty. Like a scene straight out of a movie. The amber light peering through the window like golden strands. The trees outside shed their leaves and obscured the light as they fell. He sat there in the afternoon autumn rays, while they pushed up on the fringes of his coily dark brown hair. Leaving a shadow casted just light enough to see his bronze skin. The sun like in an eclipse peered from behind his parted lips.

I felt my chest seize up. Fuck. I scratched the back of my head. I may like this asshole. I combed through my hair with my fingers and mouthed the word shit. I looked at him through my peripherals, he glanced at me from the side. My heart skipped a beat. Whoa, what the fuck?

Right as I was about to have a panic attack Coach looked at his watch. “Alright, you can leave now,” Coach stated, “Your sentence is up.”

I sprung up, stretched, and began to pack up my things.

“Whoa. Whoa. Where do you think going Anderson,” Coach chuckled

“What? I served my time,” I demanded, slamming my fist on the desk, “I want my lawyer.”

“Uh, Jesse served his time,” Coach shook his head. “remember how you came in 15 minutes late.

Jesse chuckled this time as he left the class. I involuntarily followed him with my eyes. Before he walked out the door he side-eyed me one last time and gripped my heart with his dark brown irises…

“Aye! Wake up.” coach demanded snapping his fingers.

I rested my head in my left hand -mouth slightly ajar- and reluctantly directed my attention to Coach.

He sat backward in the chair in front of me. "We need to discuss your grades."

I threw my head back and groaned for about … 30 seconds. “Coach scowled. Alright, keep the bench company for the rest of the season. Ethan will just have to take your position.” Ethan “eat a bag of dicks” Carlisle? Did Coach Svelte give me a fucking ultimatum? No, worst one my ego couldn’t refuse.

“Ethan? Do you want to lose this season?”

“I don’t know, Kyler? Do you?” Coach asked.

I want to play, but I wanna keep Ethan’s ass on the bench more.

Coach glances at me with a triumphant smirk. He’s really pleased with himself, isn’t he? Alright then, if you want to play then get your grades up.

“I’ve already tried. My parents already tried hiring tutors, they don’t help,” I groaned.

“How about this, I’ll assign a tutor from here at school, and if you show effort you’ll retain your position on the team,” Coach sighed.

I nodded in agreement with our arrangement. Coach stood up and looked out the window, he put his arms about his waist in some sort of a champion’s pose and took a deep breath. “Alright you can leave now, I'm sick of looking atcha,” Coach groaned with a smile.

Without hesitation, I bolted out of the classroom. I didn’t want to be there when he started reciting quotes from The Dark Knight to himself as he rubbed callus ointment on his bare stomach (you don’t wanna know).

I walked into the hallway and I saw Jesse still here at his locker looking for something vigorously. I pulled out my phone as an effort not to stare at him again and I checked my notifications. I received a message from Robinson: Where u at bench warmer? “Aye! There he is, the lord of the bench himself,” a nearby voice called out. The devil himself, Robinson, along with some other guys from the team. “Yo, what’s up,” I asked.

“Y’know. Nothing much," Robinson had a way of being really calm in his speech, demeanor, and even in his movements (probably why the Coaches always drug test him), "just a little sore from practice today." How was your little playdate, there,” he gestured his head towards Coach Svelte’s classroom door.

“As fun as you could imagine. Coach gave me extra time though, because of someone...”

“You left later because you arrived later,” Jesse interrupted, “and technically you spent less time than I did because you didn’t serve your remaining 15 minutes.”

“Yeah. And,”I responded

“And, maybe, Jesse continued, “you shouldn’t blame others for your own faults shit you caused. Oh! And maybe you shouldn’t rope other people into your bullshit too.”

“We both had a part in it”

“We did?”

"In fact, we got in trouble because you couldn’t accept the truth."

"That’s ironic coming from the closet case."

Without a thought or hesitation, I pushed him against the locker. My forearm against his neck may my knee in between his legs. Even Though it was pointless to struggle he tried to pry my arm off his neck. He was helpless, but his eyes told a different story. His eyes burned with disdain for me which made my heart drop. His brows were arched with ferocity. Anger filled his face even though he wasn’t even in a position to keep both eyes open much less dry.

The skin around his eyes, peppered with freckles, was beginning to turn red, and with each movement, he winced silently. This may sound horribly fucked up but it was a cute sound. I leaned into his neck more. His wince evolved into a quiet moan. Unexpectedly I felt pressure growing in my jeans.

My eyes grew wide and I let him go. He slid down the lockers and gasped for air. I overheard some of the other football players behind me talking shit and laughing, saying things like “you’re better than me I woulda...” and “God damn bruh”. Good, I thought, I forgone suspicion from them. The only one who could know now is… shit. The only one who could know is Jesse. I think I hit the wasp nest quite a few times I think I need to keep my distance from him now.