Chapter 1

She couldn't believe she just lost it like that. Normally, she kept her temper in check during the game. Keyword being normally. She always prided herself in being fully control of her responses and emotions at all times and at all costs. She took pride in that even. Especially considering that, if she lost any of that control, that restraint, she would feel like as much of a failure as he wanted her to think she was. But, for some reason this time was completely different, something had snapped so deep inside herself that she had no choice but simply just release it. The emotions she held together, even through all of her testimony, the trial, the probing questions from lawyers, flooded out onto the field in which she always found strength and peace. And that is when her hand made contact with his nose without little thought of the aftermath.

***

The game was close, too close for my liking. Granted, this team was one of our top rivals, but still we should be ahead by now! Our team was on fire this season: even managing to trample teams that were expected to win against us. At this point in the season we were undefeated and I wanted to keep that streak alive. I loved when we had an early lead because it made it easier in the last quarter where we could sail on our B-string without a care in the world. Take the starters out and let us get a well-deserved break from fighting to victory. There was no pressure to perform in that case... haha that's what she said!

The clock had run out: it was officially half-time. I pulled off my sweaty helmet feeling the helmet hair instantly and grabbed one of the Gatorade bottles. I absolutely despised water, but I know that it would be stupid not to drink water in the middle of this intense competition. I may be a jock but I'm not completely stupid. Plus, all of my water weight was literally evaporating as sweat droplets into the cool evening air. I'm grossly hot under all the padding and that's what happens when you actually exercise. It is awful feeling when my sports bra is clinging to me like a baby opossum to its mom's back. But, I guess that is the price one has to pay for the athletic ability and girlish charm? Sure, makes sense to me.

My thoughts draw me in and within moments I was zoned out thinking about the last week. My mind tends to do that when there was no mental stimulation around me. My mom thinks I need to go on medication, but I am closeted ADHD and don't want to take pills. I don't want to have to rely on something for the rest of life. I say piss on good brain chemistry; I'm fine. Plus, I have decided I deserved a few mental checkouts considering how hard I work to help this team and that we aren't getting stampeded in this game: nor have there been many sacks. I'm not trying to brag: this team is my family and we all work towards that one goal without them I would still be in peewees trying to prove a female can do it too. However, as one the who is always on the field despite being female? Yeah, I'd say I handle my own pretty well. The only thing that distracted me from the mind escape I had while we were walking to our locker room was when I heard an unfamiliar voice slowly rising in volume and nearing me.

"Hey sl** are you even listening to me?" That got my attention. I raised my eyes to meet three guys from the other team headed straight for me, the middle one with a sly grin on his golden tan face. "Ah, so now I have gotten her attention." There was an evil gleam in his green eyes. One I recognized all too often from my lovely home life.

"What are you even doing? Shouldn't you be with your own team planning your last hope for this game?" I rolled my eyes in exasperation, so over this pathetic excuse of trying to get into my head, just because I was a female QB meant nothing. Opponents see me as the weak link in my team because I don't "fit the stereotypical mold." They should know I have some of my own balls and not just the ones made out of pigskin. To survive in this group of burly guys and the ball-bunnies that the sport attracts. Some of those girls think that they can stake a claim cause they open their legs one time. Yet, they get catty and see me as a threat? Please, I don't want to see your man, half-naked, in any capacity outside the team.

Although, I don't know if I would call any of my guys burly: they are more like giant teddy bears who pretend to be tough. Honestly, was it that hard to imagine a girl who could stick it out enough to play football with a bunch of smelly men? Boys, more like, I tell you. They think that testosterone proves you have one up on someone. And luckily, I beat that idea right out of my team real quick. They learned right at the kickoff.

"Well you know, I was just trying to ask you nicely if you changed with the guys. I mean, you are more than welcomed to change for me." He winked, giving me the cheekiest grin, that would probably make most girls swoon. Newsflash, I am definitely not like most girls and when I tell you I got perv vibes? " *Shivers.*

I just picked up my helmet doing my best to ignore the wannabe testosterone and fake confidence and and got ready to head back to our locker room. Don't want Coach to get mad for missing the same pep talk that I hear at every game. I was used to this type of banter from the other teams. Sadly, they get old real quick. Predictable even. Before I could, however, the jerk had the audacity to stand in front of me. "We aren't done here, till I say we are. Got it?" His eyes turned a darker shade and had a fierce look to them. Ugh. A man who can't understand a woman before barking orders.

My eyes fell on the other guys who hadn't said a word since they got here. All decked out in yellow and blue, the colors of the enemy. The one to my left looked like he was having the time of his life with a dumbass grin on his stupid face. With his buzz-cut black hair and blue eyes, he was shorter with a stocky build. My eyes moved to the other one, he looked slightly concerned and uncomfortable: like he didn't choose to be here and wanted to leave as quick as I did. He had longer, curly brown hair that covered his ears and big brown eyes to match it. His jaw was sharp enough to cut through an apple. He was tall, and even through the padding you could see his muscles. Huh, I normally wasn't attracted to the ball players, but him? I guess I could have the guts to admit that he was downright handsome. His eyes tried to tell me something, but I ignored it and focused my attention on the jerk in front of me. Avoiding the drool that wanted to point out how truly hot the rest of my body thought he was while my brain was in overdrive dealing with the asshole who was not moving out of my way.

"No. I say we are done. Now. Get out of my face and move. Now." My jaw was clenched almost as much as my fists were, one still gripping onto the helmet as I gritted the words out.

"Wow, feisty much? I like that in a girl, it means she's fun under you and I love me some good..."

He was cut off quickly by brown eyes, "Josh, man just let her go. Just cause she's missing some tools doesn't mean you have to be a grade A ass to her." he moaned. "Coach will have our hides and make us do miles if we aren't in the locker room... like right now. The whole reason I came over here with your dumbass is to make sure you didn't get in trouble." I felt a slight relief from his almost-nice words, but it quickly faded.

"Not till I get this girl to give me her number so I can test that feistiness where she belongs and not with a bunch of men out of her league." Josh smirked.

"I'd rather die. Or get eaten by sharks. Or stung by a thousand bees. Come to think of it, anything would be better than that." I stated, through an evil smirk, even though my teeth were beginning to clench in rage. Guys like him made football almost not worth the effort. Almost. I definitely didn't have time for this right now. And I most certainly didn't have the patience to deal with another jackass this week.

Brown eyes stifled a laugh as Josh glared at him and tried, and failed, to regain his cocky composure. "Come on baby, you know you want a piece of this action, they all do." He said, gesturing to his frail pathetic excuse of a football player, confidence seeping into his voice.

"In your dreams," I muttered as I was finally able to brush past him. That was when he grabbed my wrist. A male touching me pushes me to the very edge. I almost lost it, but then, at the last second, remembered the breathing exercise I was supposed to do to control my temper. The one and only thing helpful that had come from counseling. Yea, that was a joke and a waste of my mom's money... not like she didn't have to blow on my 'anger management'.

"Wow, what is your problem? Did the sl** get her panties in a twist? Let me guess, scared of your reputation? Don't worry I won't tell anyone! It will be our secret that you open your legs for your enemies. That is one way to win the game!" He winked as he tried to come up with reasons why I would reject him. It probably hurt his pathetic excuse of a brain. "Ooo I know! You're definitely daddy's little girl, am I right! Don't want to make him mad that his daughter is a sl**!"

My heart fell. And something had just snapped.

No one, no one would EVER get away with calling me that. Before I knew it, my helmet lay at my feet, forgotten. My right fist was in his nose with a light crack, normally a sickening noise, but this one was welcomed. I was pleased with the reaction I got and in the moment made it worth it. His face jolted in pain, and his eyes looked as if he had just seen a ghost. Like he couldn't believe I had just done that. I removed my hand before he could get blood all over it. I was not about to contract some type of STD from this animal.

"You little... I'm going to kick your..." The rest of his speech was drowned out by his already swollen face and muffled by his hand which was gripping his nose in pure agony.

"You deserved it. And for the record- I don't have a dad." I growled before storming off the field.

The last thing I heard as I stalked away was someone muttering, "She is right, you know? You definitely deserved that." Good ole brown eyes.

By the time I reached the locker room, they were already getting ready to head out. My coach's eyes lit up when he saw me, but then glared daggers at me. If looks could kill I would have died about three times now. It was like he knew that what I just did would put me six feet under. Oops. Still worth the reaction though, at least for now.

***

I should have known better than to lose my cool and punch a rival I had just met and now I regret it, because of course the piece of sh** couldn't just wallow and understand that it was his actions that caused this. Yet, I had to pay for it, more importantly my team had to pay for it. Once word got around that I punched one of the other team's players, the refs suspended me for the rest of the game. Probably his doing, running to the first adult he saw to tattle on the fact that he got his nose broke... BY A GIRL.

Stupid, stupid move! I was so angry, not just at him, but at myself. No matter what happened, I should not have lost it like that. All that control for nothing. My mom would be pissed, or just give me that look of sheer disappointment. I shivered, no matter what had happened she had still scared me more, mostly because I cared what she thought. It wasn't her fault. And I think she feared I would turn out just like him.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the game slowly slip from our grasp as I sat on the bench clenching my fists in rage... at myself. Crap Andy! Pull yourself together. You can't cry. Not now. Not in front of the guys who are struggling with one of their best teammates benched. Granted, they would completely understand if I did cry. Half of the time, the guys expected me to cry, almost like they wanted me to. I guess their philosophy was if I cried they'd feel better for all the times they wanted to. Because it was okay if I, a girl, did it. The general stereotype that guys don't cry. That may be true, but I also don't cry. Ever. I held up even after those words struck a chord. I held up until this point, there was no reason to give in to the tears now. That would be meant for cookie dough ice cream later.

Especially cause that would mean that he broke me. If I cried over some stupid words, yet I didn't show it after all that time? That would mean that all of those years finally caught up to me and swallowed me whole. I would not give in. I would never give in to that pain. Not anymore. Not ever again. And most definitely not in front of my teammates. My guys.

I stood up from my place on the bench. I started pacing; well that didn't help. It almost made my teammates on the sidelines even more nervous. It just made my nerves even more alert and on edge. My fists were still clenched, as I looked down at them. I tried relaxing them, turning them back to their normal shade instead of a ghostly white with the bruises on my knuckles from my punch. Man, I am going to have to ice that later. The pain was nothing. It was a dull throb on my swollen fist that was a healthy dose of reminder. Reminding me of past pain that got me here.

The second half of the game moved at snail speed. Thankfully, it ended, even though it was painful to lose. To let the team down. The final score was 33-39, and it was mostly my fault we were the 33. Some may be happy we didn't completely get wiped out but it was still considered a loss. I was so ashamed that I didn't make eye contact with the guys as they ran over, with sweat dripping down their faces and grieving the loss of the game as a team. That should have been me. Instead, I was the one on the bench, getting pity glances from the rest of the team: all of them knowing whatever had been said would have to have been severely bad to set me off. I had control. They knew I could reign in my temper and keep my emotions in check. That was especially true during any game. Except for today.

Great. Just great. I wish they would react differently. I mean none of them could truly know what the situation right? Unless Coach said something to them about my past. Oh, heck no. Please don't tell me that they all know. No that can't be it, that would be confidential information. Coach couldn't tell them about my situation, legally. They couldn't know what had been said. Why the refs kicked me. They didn't know.

So, I guess that just means the boys feel sorry for me based on other things like my facial expression and being suspended. Well, it could have been worse I guess. They could all know what I've been hiding. Then again, I'm glad they don't. Because once they know, the world will know. A reality I wasn't ready to face just yet. No one needs to know my scars.

As if that wasn't enough: the cheerleader prissy girls were walking over to me with evil, cat-like grins on their fake faces. I'm sorry if you are a cheerleader and you are a nice one... none of these were like that. Trust me it may be a stereotype, but here? They all hated me. They were fake and clingy and had claws inches deep. I think that because I was on the football team it made their blood boil that I got to be around a bunch of "hot guys." The way I see it? These guys were all my brothers and we played until we were sweaty and smelly. Sure, how lucky was I! It was the only reason I joined the team: obviously. I thought, oh I would love to get tackled so I can see shoulderpads and smell the dogs up close and personal!

Madison (I know how cliche that the main cheer-witch had the most basic white girl name ever) stood in the middle: forever surrounded by her loyal minions. "Wow, Andy. You managed to even screw things up for our team more than just being on it! I bet the guys are all going to LOVE you knowing you were the reason they didn't beat our biggest rivals. All your fault like usual." She then had the audacity to tut at me. If I wasn't already cooled off from my earlier explosion I'm sure she would have gotten an earful... or maybe like the dumbass from the other team... a nose-ful.

To be honest, I was used to these catty females. It was definitely nothing new to me. But it didn't make it any less gage-worthy. Ugh, I wish they would stop trying to get into anyone's pants just cause they had an athletic bone in their body. I remember one of them thought being on the football team meant I was sleeping with their boyfriend. As if that alone wasn't an insult to me when they thought I was some sort of ball bunny BUT he was a second-string nosebleed. I'm sorry that was the only football player you could get to sleep with you. This kid couldn't tell a football from a hockey puck. He's on our team because his mom is some big shot and she thinks it would be good for him to get some "physical involvement in high school." Why she didn't think marching band was more his speed was way beyond me. And before you come at me... marching band is more of a sport than, say, golf. They actually sweat and work their legs to the bone. Unless you are in pep band, then you can't call it a sport: sorry not sorry. Kudoos to them for the work they put in... All I know is I can't even clap on beat, let alone march and read notes... Yea I'll stick with the pigskin in my hands instead. The spirals and the forward passes.

I walked away from the girls, much to their dismay. How dare I have the nerve to not engage! Megan... wait was her name Megan or Madison or maybe it was Michelle... I honestly have called her all of these names to her face just because I couldn't be bothered to remember what her actual name was. Why should I? She is a brat who comes from money and loves to flaunt who her parents are. Her verbal berating was like a toddler throwing a tantrum compared to what I used to face when I entered my house. Yeah, no, total waste of my time to engage. Especially since I was probably going to miss coach's 'nice try but get your act together you play like panzies" talk in our locker room. And then the talk expected to follow. The one where he asked what actually happened. And if I was okay.