[COMPLETE]
Emerson Castell loves facts.
Enjoying the how and why of everything, she never fails to let her obsession seep into every aspect of her life, including her relationships - or lack thereof.
Leo Caruso is no stranger to a busy social life...
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With the pounding headaches diminishing by the day, I felt like I could completely focus on something else for the first time in a while.
What I wouldn't admit to Emerson was that quitting was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. Now that the temptation was out of the way—in a rotten garbage bag in a landfill somewhere—I didn't have the cigarettes within my reach anymore. That didn't mean I never thought about going out and buying more, but every time I did, I remembered I would just be going back to square one.
I was a little moody and irritable, especially with people who got on my nerves. I snapped at my grandfather this morning over a simple question—even though I'd been holding back sassy responses to him ever since I got here—but I did feel a little bad afterwards.
And I was hungry, voraciously hungry, and with every unnecessary bite I took, I reminded myself to hit the gym.
"Dude, I just saw you eat a whole refrigerator for lunch," Santiago remarked as we warmed up for our game in a few minutes. I looked up at him with wide eyes, my mouth full of salt and vinegar potato chips. "You're still hungry?"
"This is why you should never touch a goddamn cigarette," I answered him through a mouthful and shoved in a few more.
"Right," he answered, patting my shoulder. "Good luck with that."
I sighed, and we all ran over to where Coach had asked us to assemble. It was the same speech he had given us since September, but this time it subtly included, "My job is important to me so please win."
The first half went smoothly, and I managed to score a goal from a corner kick by Santiago right before it ended. Coach let out a huge sigh of relief for his continued employment prospects.
The second half, our opposing team started pulling tricks out of nowhere. The ball would be in our possession for a good five seconds before it was swept away and strategically passed between our defenders.
"I'm open!" I called to Liam, one of the smallest guys on the team. He looked confused as he moved the ball with his feet and stared ahead with wide eyes. After more coaxing, he sloppily kicked it over.
As I ran ahead to receive it, I tripped over an outstretched leg and landed on my knees. I groaned as my arms took most of the fall and saw Santiago out of the corner of my eye, reaching his hand out to pull me up.
"Franco, what the hell?" Santiago snapped. "We're all on the same team, man."
"Oops," he mumbled, rolling his eyes.
"Do you not understand soccer?" I snapped, my aggression growing. He had been nothing but a sour presence since the beginning of the season. "We play for the same team!"
To top it off, Coach clapped his hands together and yelled, "Caruso, no slacking! Let's go!"
Did the referee not fucking see what had just happened?
