The Roseview High Rumors

CHAPTER TWO - Pedro

Pedro Milian ran his tenth lap on the Roseview High school track. He took deep breaths through his nose and his body surged with adrenaline. He pumped his arms, and threw air punches as he ran. The dull ache of exhaustion lingered in his muscles and a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin.

"Winners are not quitters," he puffed. Repeating the mantra, he raised his knees up higher and tapped them with alternate hands.

"Go Pedro!"

"We love you!"

"OMG! He's coming this way!"

Pedro's heart swelled with pride at the sound of his adoring fans. He was glad they turned up for a training session, even if no actual football was scheduled for the day. All his mates had gone home, including his best friend Lucas Koren. In his opinion, Lucas was a great center, but Pedro was an incredible quarterback.

"Tu eres el hombre de mi vida," another fan hollered.

Pedro couldn't help but laugh at that. That chick was crazy. How could he be the man of her life? Her Spanish was impressive though, bonus points for that. He ended his run, and slowed to a jog. When he eventually stopped, he bent over and put his hands on his knees. He huffed and puffed for a few minutes.

His lungs were burning and his head was light. Pedro knew he was pushing himself to breaking point with weightlifting and long-distance running but he didn't care. Mediocre athletes didn't get scouted for full ride sports scholarships. A reputable college and football program was a highway to the NFL.

In one swift movement, Pedro straightened to his full six feet height. He ran a hand through his thick, sandy blonde hair and put his hands on his hips. Wiggling his feet around, Pedro stretched his arms and rolled his neck slowly. The delayed movements were for the benefit of the thirsty onlookers.

"Are you done?" Coach Denning hissed.

Pedro looked sideways to see his annoyed coach standing with his arms folded and tapping one foot slowly. Pedro resisted the urge to laugh at tension written all over the coach's face. Denning needed to relax because the show wasn't over yet, but Pedro figured he might as well call it a day.

"Yes, sir," Pedro replied and jogged towards Denning's office. The coach was right behind him.

A few startled gasps from the bleachers and sighs of disappointed fans echoed from the stands.

Pedro turned back. "Sir?" he asked. It was a question not a statement. He needed Denning's permission to oblige the fans. The six foot two, burly red head was like a father to them, but he wouldn't hesitate to bench Pedro if he didn't follow orders.

Denning rolled his eyes. "Go ahead," he grumbled. He cussed under his breath about putting up with teenage bull crap and Pedro flashed him a dazzling grin.

Turning away from the coach, Pedro tore his sweat shirt off in slow motion. The fan reaction was immediate and excited shouts filled the air.

"I think I'm preggers," one fan gushed.

"His tan is to die for," another fan swooned.

Pedro shook his head. He didn't have a tan. His natural golden complexion was inherited from his Mexican parents.

"Damn his perfect body. This mutha' is ripped to shreds!" a deeper voice added. "There's no way this dude ain't injectin' something."

Pedro shook it off. Of course a hater would show up with a stick up his butt and a big bottle of bitterness to drink. Pedro worked out daily and had a strict diet. He never took more than an occasional pain reliever and only drank once in a while. Well, at least not since two days ago.