Theo

Crushed

“Yo, Theo!”  Trey shouted, jumping on my back.

      Eighth grade marked the last year of middle school.  I was starting running back for the football team and coach told my dad that scouts were already looking at me, interested in seeing how I’d do through the years since I already showed so much promise.  Dad told me not to get a big head but mom was already fussing about what colleges I should consider looking into.

    College was too far away.  At least, to me it was.

    When I flipped Trey over my head, he landed in the soft grass and I hollered, “Ha!” just in time for the Mac Truck smashed into me from the side.  Mac was first string linebacker but whew, that boy could hit.  Thankfully I could take one.

    Casey laughed obnoxiously loud, clutching his side.  Yeah, yeah, hilarious.

    “And you thought you were safe!” Casey hollered.

    “Man, f**k off!” I snapped, jumping back to my feet and plowing into him.

    He was laughing too hard to get out of the way, both of us rolling across the grass.  Coach blew his whistle, meaning it was time to get to the locker rooms and I noticed him shaking his head at our shenanigans.  Not so low-key, I’m his favorite but that means he’s much harder on me.  Expects more.

    “That guys too strict,” Trey muttered beside me.

    I just shoved at him as we rushed to the locker rooms.

. . .

When I was clean and dressed in a standard t-shirt and shorts, I headed out of the locker room, gym bag strapped over my shoulder and nearly bumped into Chelsea dressed in her little cheerleading uniform.  “My bad,” I muttered, moving around her when she caught my arm.  I tensed at her touch, forcing my eyes to remain level at hers.  It was tough considering how short that skirt is.

    “Theo,” she said in a sweet, sing-songy voice.

    I felt all the blood rush to my head but nodded a little, quirking a brow.  Act cool.  Act cool.

    “You’re doing a really good job out on that field,” she said, smiling up at me.

    Is my face red?  “Thanks.”  God, did my voice just crack?

    Tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear she shifted on her feet, staring up at me with big, beautiful blue eyes.  “I was wondering . . .”

    “Hm?” I asked, c*****g my head to the side.

    “Do you have a homecoming date?”  She pursed her lips.

    No.  God no.  Absolutely not.  Even if I did, I wouldn’t the moment she asked.  “Nope.”

    She beamed suddenly, her smile so bright it made my heartbeat speed up.  “That’s perfect!  I was wondering if you’d ask Tania out, actually.”

    Oh s**t.  Now it’s an ache.  My chest hurts.  “What?”

    “Yeah,” she said, biting her lip.  “I’m going with Leo—“

    Leo Evans?  The student council president?  “Seriously?”

    “Yeah, he asked me last week,” she smiled sweetly again.  “Oh but anyway, I was thinking that Tania has liked you for a while—“

    Of course, the best friend likes me.  Of course she does.  Why not?

      “—and so I just thought—“

    “I kind of have to be somewhere,” I said, a tad too sharply.  It wasn’t on purpose, I was just done with this conversation.  “I’ll think about it, Chelsea.”  Turning my back to her, I made a bee-line for the exit, knowing I’d have a bit of a walk to go.

. . .

“Hey Theo!” mom called from the kitchen.

    I just grunted a hello, stomping straight upstairs.  When I pushed the door open, Phil was there, seated on my bed, reading the newest Naruto book.  “Phil,” I boomed and he jumped, popping his headphone out of his ear, dark eyes widening with confusion.  “I need . . . um.”  How do I say this?  I scratched at my scalp, glaring down at him.

    He c****d his head to the side, hair moving with him.  He needed a haircut.  “Hm?”

    Dropping my bag to the ground, I said, “I need my bed alone for the like fifteen minutes.”

    “To take a nap?” he wondered innocently.

    “Um.  No.”  I just blinked at him and slowly, I watched it dawn on him.

    A horrified expression shifted over his face as he looked down at the sheets he was lying on and put two and two together.  Jumping from my bed, he wiped at his clothing theatrically and I rolled my eyes.  “I don’t get it on the sheets,” I grumbled, shoving him out the door and shutting it after him before falling back onto my bed.  Normally, I’d look up at the poster over my bed of a sexy photo of Amy Adams, my celebrity crush, but her features too closely resembled Chelsea and that would just turn me off right now.  Closing my eyes, I tried to picture somebody, anybody else but all I could see was the frazzled look on Phil’s face.  I admit his reaction was kind of funny--like a girl--but because of that, I couldn’t concentrate at all, honestly.

    Annoyed, I pulled out one of the magazines from my Playboy stash and found a short-haired blonde girl bent at a weird angle.  Eh, that’ll work.