The Player Game

Chapter 5

Even from here I can see those blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

A smile playing around my lips, I stop in my tracks to wave back.  It amuses me how the cheerleaders are already giving me the dirtiest looks they can muster.  Who knew playing with a Player could get me so many enemies?

“Not him again,” Micky grumbles beside me.

“He’s your cousin,” I point out, giggling as he performs a trick with the football and fails.

I feel a stare on my face.

“Did you just giggle?” he asks with disbelief clear in his voice.  Warily, he runs a hand through his hair.  “God, he’s turning you into one of those ditzy giggling fan girls.”

I slap his arm.  “You did not just call me a giggling fan girl!  You jerk!  Take that back.”  I begin slapping him with both hands until he raises his arms in defeat.

“Alright, alright!”  He holds my wrists to stop me injuring him further.  “Calm your tits. I take it back, okay?”

“Good,” I pout.

His hazel eyes flicker down to the football pitch.  “I think it’s about time you went and joined your football friend.”

I follow his gaze to where Aaron is waving me over impatiently.

“Oh, yeah.” I laugh.  “You coming down?”

“Nah.”  He shrugs.  “You go and win your stupid Player Game, Emmy-Poo.”

I smirk as he tweaks my nose fondly, letting him take my burger and coke from my hands.  "I'll eat these for you."

I laugh.  Trust him to be greedy.  “See you Micky Mouse!” I grin and high-five him before I bolt it down the slope to the football pitch, all thoughts of eating forgotten.

“Hey Player!” I greet Aaron cheerfully with a hug.

“Whoa, steady.”  I feel him pat my back lightly.  “I know I’m sexy, but there’s no need to throw yourself at me.”

I pull away, raising my eyebrows. “Sweaty isn’t sexy.”  I look at his sweat-covered face pointedly.

“Sweaty isn’t sexy?” He fakes a crestfallen face.  “Does that mean little Emily doesn’t think I’m sexy?”

I’m lying of course.  Sweaty is incredibly sexy.  Especially when that person is clad in football gear   and their name is Aaron Nichols.

A mischievous smirk appears across his face.  I stare at him for a second, realizing too late what he’s planning to do.

Somehow I manage to manoeuvre sideways, rolling onto the floor as his arms close in on thin air.  Hastily, I scramble to my feet, planning to sprint away from the football pitch.  I only make it a couple of metres before Aaron tackles me to the floor, landing on my back.  That’s the second time in one day I’ve been in this position.

Yay life.

“Got you!” he exclaims with joy.

“Natss nott phair,” I mumble, my voice muffled in the grass.  Unfortunately there’s no lemony scent for me to enjoy here, just the stench of dirt and… grass.

“What?”

“Natss nott phair!” I shout louder, trying to get a breath of air.  I kick my legs out to show that I want to get up.

Seeming to realize my intention, he has the grace to get off and stand up.

“About time,” I grumble, lifting my head and pushing myself onto my knees.  “Seriously though, dude.  That’s the second time today.  Are you obsessed with jumping on top of people?”