- Chapter 149 - Soccer Balls and Blushy Falls -
Warnings: mentions of hatred and being ignored, kinda angsty cause Spot and Race are a bit mad, mentions of punching a wall and getting injured, but it's mostly pretty fluffy, or at least the ending is
Modern AU
Third Person POV

Racetrack Higgins.

Possibly the most insufferable person on the face of the Earth.

No, Spot definitely did not have a crush on him.

He did not like Race's stunning smile that made any girl fall for him in a split second.

He did not like Race's dazzling blue eyes and sweet Italian accent.

He did not like Race's determination and ability to win anything he put his mind too.

Spot hated him, and everything about him.

Hotshot hummed. "Definitely." He stared at his fingernails, which were currently painted yellow and silver alternating, with little bees and stars on them. Tumbler had recently gotten into painting nails and Hotshot's had gone exactly two weeks without a manicure, so Tumbler convinced him to let him do his nails. "You don't like any of that stuff about him."

Spot clenched his fists. He slammed his locker closed.

Hotshot looked up. "Woah, Mr. Super Strength. Calm your butt down," he told him. "I'm just saying. For someone who "hates" Racetrack Higgins, you sure use some interesting adjectives to describe him."

Spot gritted his teeth. "That means nothing."

Hotshot hummed. "Mhm." He grabbed his book out of his locker. "I'm going to find my boyfriend. He's probably here antagonizing Smalls somewhere." He looked Spot up and down. "I hope Racetrack starts to become less of a pain to you."

"You and me both," Spot grumbled. He watched Hotshot walk away.

Just as the brown-haired boy walked away, another boy walked down the hallway.

And of course, it was Racetrack Higgins.

Spot frowned.

Race shot a group of girls, who were watching him, his signature smile as he walked — or maybe strutted — past them. He looked over at Spot, and smirked at him.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Stupid blond boy," he grumbled to himself as he walked away.

Race paused as he watched Spot walk off. He frowned.

Later in the day

"Spot really ignored you again?" Blink questioned as he changed for soccer.

Race frowned. He rolled his eyes and pulled off his shirt. "Yeah."

"He's got something going on in his head," Mush commented, tying his cleat laces.

Race sighed to himself. "Who knows. I mean, he's got all that he'd ever want, so why is he still mad at me?" he asked.

"Cause he's not thinking," Blink answered.

"Or maybe... he's got a crush on you." JoJo shrugged as he sipped from his water bottle.

Race looked over at him. "You just want me to get my hopes up again." He crossed his arms.

Mush squeezed his shoulder.

JoJo shrugged. "I'm just saying. He could just be mad that you give more attention to random girls in the hallway than him," he commented.

"Well, he walks away before I can even think about speaking to him." Race sighed and leaned back against the locker. "It's hopeless. I give up. I'm sick of all of this boy trouble."

Mush patted his shoulder. "It'll work out soon, don't worry."

A few days later
At gym class

"Pass me the ball!" Race waved his hands in the air.

They were currently playing soccer. There were three games going on between the two classes that were at gym at the moment.

One game for kids who didn't care as much, a game for kids who cared a bit more and wanted a good grade, and a game for kids who loved sports, like Race.

Race was on a team with a few of his teammates, namely Blink and JoJo, while some of his other teammates who were in his class were on the other team because they wanted the game to be "fair" or whatever.

Blink looked at him and passed the ball.

Race got it and turned to run. However, this plan was foiled quickly when he slammed into someone immediately after turning and both of them went down with a yelp.

Race grunted when he landed on someone. He opened his eyes, only to come face-to-face with Spot Conlon.

They both stared at each other, wide-eyed for a moment.

Race's cheeks were bright red and he swore his breath stopped for a moment.

Spot had always been good looking, but had he always been this good looking?

Of course, he was sweaty, but it was honestly kind of hot.

Spot seemed to snap to his senses before Race did and shoved Race off of him. "Get off of me."

Race grunted when he landed on the ground and watched Spot get up.

Spot quickly went back to the other side of the field, leaving Race a bit disoriented, confused, and annoyed.

Blink jogged over to Race, who was still staring at Spot. "You good?" He held out his hand and pulled Race up when he took it.

Race blinked at Blink for a moment, then grimaced. "I think I hurt something," he muttered. "Mannaggia."

Blink sighed. "I think we should go to the nurse."

Race shook his head. "I think we shouldn't."

Blink shot him a look, but didn't get a chance to respond when their teacher came over to them to check up on Race after checking up on Spot. "You alright?" she asked. "That was a nasty fall."

Race opened his mouth to respond, but Blink got to it first. "He said he may have hurt something."

Race glared at him.

Mrs. Evans, who also coached the soccer team, took injuries very seriously. "Well, then go to the nurse. What's the hesitation? It's much better to be safe than to be in the middle of a soccer game and all of a sudden be in an extreme amount of pain," she told them. "Go, go." She shooed them off to the nurse."

Race sighed, a bit annoyed. "I hate you for that."

Blink, who was helping him walk, shrugged. "You heard coach; injuries can be very serious, so it's better to be safe than to be sorry," he said.

"Then, I'm forcing you to treat your next injury," Race promised him.

"Quit saying that like you're trying to manifest one for me."

Turns out, Race had sprained his ankle, which was just awesome.

Not.

Especially not when the nurse told him he should sit out of practice that day.

"Mrs., I can't just sit out of practice," Race insisted. "The championship game is only a week away," he reminded her.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. All I'm hearing is that you want your injury to get worse," the nurse stated as she rummaged through her desk.

She had put ice on Race's ankle, and was now looking for some gauze or brace to keep it in place and from twisting further.

Race clenched his fists. "If I sit out now, there's a chance they'll make me sit out of the game," he tried to tell her. "I'll get worse sitting on my butt."

The nurse sighed and turned to Race. "No, they won't. I know Mrs. Evans, and so do you," she told him. "You're just worrying for no reason. If you sit out today, come see me tomorrow, and your injury is better, we'll let you play, but I'm going to go to Mrs. Evans after class and make sure she knows that you can't participate in practice today."

Race groaned.

Blink looked at him. "It could be worse," he said as if that was helpful to hear.

Race rolled his eyes.

So, Race sat out of practice.

It was painfully boring to sit out and watch. He occasionally distracted himself by playing with the gauze around his ankle, but when Mrs. Evans — one of two coaches on his team, and definitely the scarier one — shot him a glare, he stopped.

Instead, he focused his attention on the football team's practice.

Namely, one specific player.

In the locker room
With Spot

"I must've been imagining it." Spot shook his head and pulled on his shirt.

Hotshot scoffed. "Yeah, like I was imagining your bright red cheeks." He rolled his eyes.

Spot glared at him. "I was not blushing."

Hotshot raised an eyebrow at him. "Who are you trying to fool?" he questioned. "I am your best friend and adopted brother; I know you. And yet, you still can't admit that you're crushing on Racetrack Higgins. It's not like it's a bad thing. I know you're stubborn as a mule and are trying to insist you didn't fall for the person who's annoyed you most since elementary school with his charm, his way with girls, and his typical, blond, popular boy attitude, but you and I both know that Race is a good person and friend," he told Spot, tying his shoes. "He's no player. No one has ever seen him with a girl, and I've heard a rumor he's only ever been with one guy, so maybe, do us all a favor and admit you've got a soft spot for his "stunning, blue eyes"." Hotshot rolled his eyes.

Spot fell silent for a moment.

"That thing between you two earlier, everyone could see it, Spot." Hotshot closed his locker and turned back around to face his best friend. "He might do you some good."

Spot exhaled slowly. "God, I've been such a jerk to him, huh?" He ran a hand through his hair.

Hotshot nodded.

Spot sighed. "Alright, I'll talk to him after practice." He looked at the brunette in front of him. "Soccer does have practice today, right?"

Hotshot nodded. "They do, and good plan."

Spot nodded a bit. He closed his locker, still thinking.

Maybe, he did have a bit of a crush on Racetrack Higgins.

After practice

Race watched from the bleachers as his team cheered and the coaches dismissed them. He sighed and stood up, grabbing his soccer ball.

Both coaches walked over to him.

"How's your ankle, bud?" Mr. Evans, his other coach and Mrs. Evans spouse, asked him, nodding his head to Race's foot.

Race pursed his lips. He debated on lying, but when he saw Mrs. Evan's face, he decided against it. That didn't mean he wouldn't play it down. "It's... not great? But that doesn't mean that I can't play in the championship game," he quickly assured them.

Mrs. Evans sighed. "Would you quit worrying that we're going to have you sit out of the championship game?" she questioned. "Mrs. Julie told us you kept talking about that."

Race pursed his lips. "She's lying?"

Mrs. Evans shot him a look. "We just want you to get better. One or two days off aren't going to cause you to suddenly lose all of your talent or agility," she reminded him. "Especially not because your power is to be agile."

Race puffed his cheeks. "Yeah, but I just really don't want to be sat out. I like playing, not watching."

Mr. Evans chuckled. "We know, bud, and you won't be sat out for long, but take a day or so. Then, you'll be back to conditioning in no time." He patted his arm and walked off.

"Oh, my favorite." Race rolled his eyes fondly.

Mrs. Evans chuckled. "You are the one who doesn't want to be sat out," she reminded him. "If you want to play, you have to do the conditioning."

Race sighed. "I guess you're right."

Mrs. Evans smiled. "I always am." She patted his shoulder. "Go home, lay down, and ice your foot," she instructed him. "I will check with Louis to make sure you do that."

Race nodded.

"Have a good night, Antonio." Mrs. Evans nodded to him and walked off.

"Thank you, Coach. You too." Race watched her leave and sighed. He grabbed his ball and started heading to the locker room.

"Race!"

Race stopped when someone called to him. He turned around, coming face-to-face with Spot Conlon. His mood instantly deflated.

"Hey," Spot greeted him.

"Hey." Race looked him up and down. He was clearly coming from football practice. "Here to trip me? Or ignore me? Oh! Or maybe, roll your eyes at me?"

Spot grimaced. He hadn't expected Race to be quite this bitter. "No."

"Well, that's a first." Race rolled his eyes. "Maybe, I should let you see how it feels." He turned and started walking."

"Race, wait." Spot jogged in front of him, stopping him.

"What, Spot?" Race snapped. "You've been angry at me for years, and I don't even know what I did to you. You don't deserve to be a thought in my head, and yet, I think about you daily, when I bet you don't give me half a thought," he sneered.

"No, I don't... you're so much more than half a thought in my head, and I didn't even choose for it to be that way." Spot sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I- I know I've been a jerk."

"Yeah, you have."

Spot winced. "More than one," he stated. "I didn't want to fall for you. You, who can make anyone fall for them in mere seconds. I wanted to be different... but fate had other plans." He sighed and looked at Race. "Let me make it up to you, please."

Race stared at him for a moment.

Had he wanted to hear that for years?

Yes. 100%.

Did he feel a tiny bit petty and like he wanted Spot to feel what he felt?"

Also, yes.

Race held his head high, still putting on an angry front. "Spot, you're an idiot."

Spot nodded. "The biggest idiot."

Race sighed. "But... I guess I can forgive you."

Spot looked at him. "Really?" He hadn't expected him to forgive him, especially not that easily.

Race rolled his eyes at him. "Yes, really. I've literally wanted you to say that for years."

Spot felt a small smile tug on his lips. "You're so cute." He chuckled.

Race rolled his eyes at him. "Quit that." He pushed his arm and started walking.

"Hey, Race?"

Race turned back around, raising an eyebrow at Spot.

"Could..." Spot swallowed and stepped towards him, "could I kiss you?"

Race felt his cheeks redden. He bit his lip and nodded.

Spot reached out and wrapped his arms around Race's waist, pulling him close."

"Whoop-" Race put his hands on Spot's chest to steady himself.

Spot chuckled. He looked at Race and leaned in, pressing his lips against Race's.

Race blushed and kissed back, wrapping his arms around Spot's neck.

Spot smiled into the kiss. When they pulled away, he reached down and picked Race up.

"Woah! Spot!" Race yelped a bit and held onto him. "Mannaggia! You can't just pick someone up with no warning!"

"Okay." Spot shrugged. "Here's your warning."

Race rolled his eyes. "Put me down."

"No."

"No?" Race stared at him.

"A boy like you is too cute to be walking when you're injured," Spot said simply, starting to walk towards Blink's car.

Race blinked, the color of his cheeks darkening. "Accidenti," he mumbled to himself. "Non c'è via d'uscita da questo ora."

Spot chuckled.

Race watched Blink and Mush notice them as they walked over/Race got carried to Blink's car.

Race wanted to die of embarrassment.

Spot opened the backseat of Blink's car while still holding Race. "Afternoon, Baletti, Meyers."

Blink blinked. "Afternoon, Conlon."

Spot set Race down in the backseat. He reached over Race and pecked his lips, before pulling his seatbelt and buckling him in. "Rest up," he told Race. "You're too cute to be sitting out and looking sad."

Race's cheeks burned. "Go away," he muttered, his arms crossed.

Spot chuckled. "A domani, tesoro." He nodded to Blink and Mush, then shut the car door, leaving.

Blink and Mush walked him walk away, before both of them turned and looked at Race, raising their eyebrows at him.

Race wanted to die. He covered his face with his hands. "Don't ask."

"Oh no." Blink chuckled as he put his car in reverse and started pulling out of his parking spot. "I'm your foster brother; you're telling me everything."

Race shook his head and kept hiding his face.

2748 Words
I hope you all enjoyed thissss. If you haven't seen my most recent announcement about this book and 150th one-shot ideas, please go check it out lol. I desperately need feedback haha