Leaving his office, I headed toward the carpark. Coach's words echoed in my head the whole drive home.

    Boy troubles? The only trouble I had was that Anderson was still breathing with both legs intact. What was Coach on about?

    The clock on my dashboard said it was six-thirty but I didn't turn on the road to go home. Instead, I pulled off toward a park area that was further out in the suburbs on the north side of town.

    This place was where I felt most comforted in times of conflict. Maybe it was the serene atmosphere of being somewhat lost in a forested area, or maybe it was the quiet that brought me peace. Either way, it was the only place I could go where my head would quiet down.

    Parking my car, I trekked a little way into the trees and found my usual spot. It was a group of rocks that were arranged in a way that made them look like a giant chair and made do for a good thinking spot.

    I sat there for about two hours. Sunset began to approach but the lack of light didn't faze me. In fact, I preferred it that way.

    My phone buzzed with messages and notifications, all of which I ignored. Some would be from my mum but I'd sent her a message earlier telling her where I was. The rest were likely to be from Scott and Trent.

    I spent a good hour considering Coach's words from our conversation earlier. He was right to call out me out on how my actions affected the team but it didn't change the fact that Dakota started it. He was the one who liked to play hard and dirty and I had to work harder to keep up with that. He'd always been the one to get under my skin more than anyone else.

    Maybe things wouldn't be so bad if this feud of ours wasn't broadcasted by our schools. People seemed to make it their business about what I was doing all in the name of superficial popularity. No one ever realised that just made you shelter yourself away more.

    The thing was, I'd been a social person all my life. When high school began I tried out for the soccer team as well as joining a number of clubs and societies. I participated in fundraisers and volunteered at after school tutor programs because that's just who I was: a people person.

    I wasn't trying to be a saint. I was trying to be myself, but the pressure to be someone else was exhausting. Things such as looks and status were so superficial it made my head hurt. It wasn't something worth pining over.

    Out here, none of that mattered. Not soccer or rivalry or perfection or popularity. Not the pressure to do well in school and Captain a team to championships. Not to be someone's endgame for one night.

    Dakota liked to call me a playboy but it was far from the truth. Sure, I'd experimented with girls when I was figuring out who I was but that had come to a stop once I realised I was gay. Now it seemed to be a never-ending string of excuses I had to keep feeding people as to why I was single. Why did people care so much about other people's love lives? It was exhausting.

    I drove home a while later. By the time I reached my driveway, a headache was well and truly underway. Overthinking seemed to be my greatest skill sometimes.

    Mum had texted earlier that Dad was taking her to dinner for their anniversary so they wouldn't be home. I entered the quiet house and headed straight up the stairs to my bedroom. I didn't have any homework to occupy myself with due to finishing all my school work during class so I settled comfortably onto my bed.

    Since reality TV and gameshows were the only thing playing this time of night – and I'd already finished the latest season of Supernatural – I spent the rest of the night watching old tapes of Ridgemount's games that Coach had lent me weeks ago.

    Knowing my luck, these strategies would be outdated by now and Ridgemount would have new tactics, but it was still worth watching their moves.

    I took notes while watching so I could plan our training sessions around it. It would be better to watch them in person but nothing was that easy, especially when Anderson's school was on the other side of town and their practice ran at the same time as ours.

    It was eleven o'clock by the time I made it through three games.

    Chuckling at his response, I tossed my phone to the side and finally called it quits. A stack of handwritten notes sat beside me on the duvet. Carefully packing them into a folder on my desk, I closed my laptop and abandoned it under my bed.

    My head was a caffeine-deprived mess of analytical thoughts by the time I went to bed. Between my notes and what I'd observed, I felt confident that our next soccer practice would run better. Coach had nothing to worry about.

    I was ready to beat Ridgemount, and with a little more training, my team would be too.