"Ay lemme get a hit!"

A few seconds passed by when suddenly smoke fogged the chilly night surrounding the area. The smell of fried food and a light trail of blueberry-scented nicotine drafted through the air as the marching band's rendition of Seven Nation Army rang loudly through the Melbourne High football stadium.

Banners flew high and the cheerleaders chanted and kicked even higher as the lacrosse team ripped through the banners.

The crowd went wild, and of course, seated in the front row, I searched for 17.

I was in the dreaded student section and I was only at the game in the first place because I was here for one player and one player only: Colton.

Our school was so obnoxiously school spirited that it even had a semi-famous student section account where they made fun of any and all school rivals. How mature. But if you were looking for school spirit-- Melbourne was the place to be.

I could already tell just by the Victoria Secret Bombshell perfume that I was standing behind the one and only Brooke Mckailey. In my peripheral, I noted that she, Hana, and some other girls had those white and blue dots painted around their eyes and some frat-ish guys were shirtless with letters spelling MELBOURNE written on them.

I couldn't help but observe Brooke. I wanted to know what page we were on.

She was wearing Lululemon leggings, a hoodie, and a loose jersey that belonged to Colton. She also had the number 17 painted on her cheek, and I wanted to slap it off.

Colton was number 17.

But I couldn't lie; she looked gorgeous. Even when she was barely trying, she still seemed to out-do every single person around her. Again, I didn't know if it was her Sarah-Cameron-esque aura, or just the plain fact that she could balance being an overachiever while still being friendly.

But either way, she was beautiful. No one could lie about that.

Suddenly, she turned around, and when I met her chestnut eyes, I froze.

Despite Brooke being in my museum group, things were just weird now. And to be quite honest-- it was all my fault. I never should've opened that closet door. I never should have posted that post (which she had probably seen by now). And I never should have fallen in love with her boyfriend.

She crossed her arms nervously, as if shielding herself from me, then looked away. As if sparing me. Sympathizing.

It was patronizing, and slightly embarrassing.

I kinda wished I could travel back to 9th grade, where she never even had a clue I existed. But no. She knew me. And she knew how I felt about Colton.

Seeing Brooke Mckailey, the perfect it-girl, vulnerable and down on her knees for Colton was something that if got out would be a terrible scar to her doll-like reputation.

And even though literally no one would ever be embarrassed to be with Colton, Brooke had been single (and rumored practiced abstinence) since forever. No one had the power to touch her except-- noting recent events-- Colton.

"Which number is he again?" Hana asked Brooke giddly.

17. Colton was 17.

"Number 28," Brooke sighed. I glanced back at her and saw her bite her lip, panicked. Wait what?

"Jesus fucking Christ is that him?" Hana pointed.

I know I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but I searched the field for this mysterious '28' anyway. The only person with the number 28 I could see on the field was...from the rival team?

"He has some real nerve showing his face tonight. Little shit," Hana cursed. Brooke rolled her eyes and shoved Hana lightly.

"He's my ex for a reason, Han. I don't care about him and it's not his fault that his team's playing against ours. We never would've gotten to the states if it weren't for Colton joining the team late."

"Hm yeah, tell your boyfriend I said thank you, I guess. You know what I am in fact curious about though?"

"What?"

"What's gonna happen when he tackles him to the ground." Hana pondered, nodding towards the field. I followed her trail and saw the game had already begun and 28 seemed to be a rowdy type of player. He was already being terribly obnoxious.

"Which one? Colton or Ian?"

So Ian was his name. Number 28.

Hana paused. "Colton, obvi."

Brooke laughed, nodding. Cause she knew it was true.

We were gonna win.

***

"LETS GO MELBOURNE! WHOOP WHOOP! WHOOP WHOOP-AH AH! LETS GO MELBOURNE! WHOOP WHOOP! WHOOP WHOOP-AH AH!" The crowd chanted in unison.

The teams were tied and it was only one point left to determine who would be going to finals for the next season.

The ball was in Colton's net and he had one chance to shoot it over. As he ran across the field, dodging the players trying to tackle him, he successfully launched the ball into the other team's goal and the crowd went absolutely wild.

Half of the student section jumped down from the bleachers and onto the track and field, rushing towards the players and jumping in rejoice (and slight chaos) about the win. Some Chief Keef song began to play on the speakers and basically the entirety of the athletic population at Melbourne began to jump.

I had to hold back a laugh. But regardless, we were going to finals.

Immediately, I could spot Colton ripping his helmet off and spitting out his mouth guard hooting chants of "FUCK YEAH!" with his teammates around him. He was sweaty and when they were done having their little team moment, his eyes explored the crowd until they landed on me.

But then my eyes shifted to see Brooke. Running towards him, grin on her face.

She hugged him tightly, and he returned it hesitantly, his eyes still on me.

I smiled, throwing up a pair of thumbs.

This felt familiar.

But this time, he didn't smile back. Despite the win. Despite Brooke Mckailey, the girl of his dreams, holding on tight to him.

He didn't smile.

And I didn't know why.

"That was a fucking code red, dude!" Some guy began shouting. And that guy... was Ian, number 28. Brooke's ex.

The crowd began to quiet down as Ian continued to yell profanities, mostly directed towards Colton.

All eyes on him, Colton shook his head, ignoring whatever he was saying, with his hand around Brooke. I couldn't lie; they looked like a power couple. Gorgeous, overachiever Brooke. All-star, rich boy Colton.

They were perfect. They were a front that couldn't be broken. Until--

"What, Whitman?! You a cheater and a scavenger for my scrappy seconds?" Ian nodded over to Brooke, referring to her as his 'scrappy seconds'.

A whole bunch of 'oooh's' erupted from the crowd.

But then all of a sudden a fist came crashing into Ian's jaw. The sound of his jaw splitting echoed the stadium and almost everyone gasped in pure shock.

Colton had punched him.

"Oh my god," I muttered more to myself than anyone.

It was only about a few seconds until complete chaos broke out.

Other players from the rival team began beating on ours and staff scrambled to break up all the fights occurring on the field.

It wasn't long before Ian was back on his feet attempting to throw punches at Colton, but all were avoided as Colton pummeled his fist into Ian's face.

Blood littered the grassy field as students began to cheer and phones began to whip out filming the fight.

As if things couldn't get any worse, rain began pouring from the sky and that was what made the crowd disperse as hundreds of people began to run past me. I was getting pushed and shoved, almost into the ground, and tousled around. I felt like I was suffocating as everyone passed me by until I felt a hand grab onto me.

And then I was running.

When I looked up, I saw it was Colton who had grabbed me and his eyes were forward, searching for a place to shield us from the rain.

We ended up underneath the bleachers, away from everyone else.

Adrenaline was pumping through my veins.

Out of breath and face to face, we huddled under the metal bleachers listening to the rain patter down from the night sky. Police sirens wailed in the distance as rowdy teens ran off the school grounds and into the darkness, laughing and screaming-- all of it, but even as they all ran past, no one could see us.

We were closer than ever and out of breath.

Rain and sweat pinned his hair to his forehead and illuminated his dark eyelashes.

"Holy shit," he laughed, leaning back onto a metal pipe. He shook his wet hair and looked up at me with his eyes wide and a grin on his face. His lips were red and eyes glowing an electrifying blue I had never seen before.

"I know, I know," I grinned. "Can't tell if I should be worried or proud."

He moved closer, and the grin on his lips grew. "Be proud of me."

Huh?

Then I noticed the slight hint of alcohol on his breath.

I backed up a bit. "Wait, you're drunk?"

"Little. But I solemnly swear," he crossed his hands over his chest, "Just a can or two of Bud."

I raised my eyebrow.

"Or four..." he muttered.

I was concerned, to say the least. There was no reason to get drunk before playing at a game. Colton, even though never admitted, suffered from substance abuse. He had had control over things recently, but I was afraid I was seeing him slip back into old, harmful patterns.

"Hey," a voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I looked up to see Colton already staring at me. Analyzing every trait on my face.

"Stop worrying," he said. "I don't like seeing you worried."

I sighed, hugging my knees. "I'm not, I'm just.. confused. This was a good game-- you know you're good at lacrosse so why even–"

"Drink?" he finished. He shrugged. "Makes me think clearer."

"What's stopping you from thinking clearly sober?"

He looked up, an unreadable expression hidden beneath his eyes. "Everything that isn't supposed to."

"What do you mean?"

He didn't answer the question. Instead-

"Do you remember sophomore year? During the spring play?" he whispered lowly. More sensually.

He was referring to when we were getting SSL by helping backstage during the theatre production. The only significant memory from those days was when we kissed.

Which was a mistake.

A pure mistake... Right?

I could feel the air changing. Into something thicker, darker, and more passionate. Why on earth would he ask something like that?

"Y-yeah. Why?"

"I can't stop thinking about it."

"Can't stop thinking about what?"

I couldn't help but notice as his eyes flickered down to my lips, "This."

It happened in a flash.

His lips. Against mine. Time stopped. And I was frozen.

It was slow at first, but like a rapidly burning fire, ignited into fire and passion. His lips melted into mine and our heads bobbed together as the kiss furthered deeper.

But this wasn't like any other kiss I had shared with him before. It was a release. The exhausting tension I had so desperately been trying to fight against melted into this kiss.

And I knew he felt it too. It was the igniting of something new.

I couldn't get enough.

I was already in between his legs and with his good hand he moved his hands underneath my ass to reposition myself more closely aligned on top of 'him'.

I involuntarily began to grind my hips against his as quiet grunts sounded from the back of his throat.

Holy shit I was making out with Colton. My best friend.

I kept grinding, deepening the kiss and I pulled back for a second to catch some air. As we separated, I couldn't help but keep my hips moving. He felt too good. I was getting off. My arms hung around his neck loosely and his strong hands gripped onto my my waist tightly.

"Shit, Asha." he cursed, looking down.

Confused, I looked down with him to what he was referring to and saw his cock strained against his pants.

I ignored it and went back in for more kissing. There was something addictive about his lips. His hands grasped onto my ass almost desperately and he took initiative by steering them closer onto where his bulge was. I felt the friction between the two of us heat up.

This was crossing the line.

A line that if fully crossed, could never be gone back to again.

Quickly, I pulled away, realizing the mistake we had made. As I pulled away though, almost instinctively, he shifted me back onto him in a desperate attempt to keep me moving against him.

By the quickening of his breath that looked too familiar to what I saw in the closet, I could he was close and or didn't want this to end any time soon.

"I don't know what you're doing to me, Asha," he muttered breathlessly, strands of sweat gluing some flyaway hairs down to his forehead.

He went in for another deep kiss and I accepted this last one.

His smell, his eyes, his lips,--everything was so enticing. I wanted to go back in again and again, but I couldn't.

Not like this.

Not when his girlfriend was a few feet away.

Shit. Girlfriend.

When I pulled away suddenly, I met Colton's eyes and I could already tell he could read my expression quite clearly. I fucked up, and this was a mistake.

Panic began to flood through me as I realized the dire situation I had gotten myself into.

"I-I'm so sorry," I gasped, rushing to get up. He quickly followed after,

"No Asha, wait-"

"No, no. I can't–I gotta go," I was already backing away, disgusted with myself. Disgusted with my actions.

I could hear him say something, but my brain wouldn't let me register it as I was already away from underneath the bleachers and joined the crowd running off the field.

Tears began to stream down my face, mixed in with the rain.

I was such a fucking idiot.