Before you began reading I just want to let you know that I love you, a lot, and thanks for being interested in my story and I hope you like it.

Now can you please highlight this text and leave a comment saying the time, date, and state you are in. I'm a weirdo and would like to know.

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BEING THE SON of CJ Bergman — retired NBA point guard for the New York Kicks with four championships rings, three MVP awards, and the most three-pointers made in history and just recently got his portrait added to the NBA Hall Of Fame, it's safe to say that before I was even born, I had a lot to live up to.

My family has a history in sports. My father's now one of the most acclaimed and commended ball players of his time even after retiring his jersey. My mother grew up playing everything under the sun from cheerleading to volleyball, and has an entire wall at home covered with her medals and achievements over the years for her many talents. My older brother just recently got drafted last year for his skills on the football field and my parents threw him a whole celebration that felt like it lasted for an entire week. The Bergman family is 3-4 now and now it's my turn to set the perfect score.

When my father told me I'd be changing universities right before my junior year I didn't know exactly how to feel. I had already made friends — though not many but enough to where I didn't wake up every day hating my life because I wasn't alone. I thought everything was going fine because that's what everyone around me told me, my old coaches would praise me every chance they got but I guess that wasn't enough for my parents, especially my father who deemed my old team weak and childish, which in his defense wasn't too far from the truth.

The boys on that team weren't exactly skilled like I was and it showed every game because I'd always be the only one to get a goal. Carrying a team isn't a job for the faint of the heart and while I was managing it just fine it wasn't working in my favor. Major League Soccer looks for the best of the best when they recruit players for the league and while I was the best on my old team — I was the best among a group of people who couldn't hold a torch to my flame on an off day and I don't say that to be an asshole but that's just what it was and people knew that because it showed every single game. It was so obvious I never had any real competition or challenge and my skills weren't really being put to use.

My father always says, "a man in a room full of men all equal to him has no strengths and will settle for whatever is thrown at him" and it's true because you should want to be the best, especially at something you're really passionate about so I kinda understand why he decided to transfer me so last minute.

I don't know how they managed to do it so easily but within the few days I left my old school, I had received countless offers from other coaches at other schools trying to recruit me to come to their school and play for them, and my parents went through every single one of them until they found the one that would guarantee a spot in MLS.

Columbus University.

I didn't know much about this school at the time my parents told me I'd be transferred there but after some research on my own I found that the soccer team there wasn't half bad, in fact they're actually quite good, a huge step up from my last team. They're currently on a nationals winning streak holding the title for two years in a row now. ESPN even interviewed them a while back.

Now it's my turn to make history thete.

"Please don't get anyone pregnant," My mother's louder than necessary voice even over the FaceTime call and practically overtakes the entire LAX airport, earning a few stares from those passing by us. I send her a look that she easily ignores while my father chuckles beside her. "It's a valid request Cassian," he adds teasingly.

"Dad," I groaned aloud, sending him a look that only makes him laugh to himself lightly.

"We're just joking," my mother chimes a few chuckles later, leaning closer in the camera a bit before she spoke again. "have you found Lourdes yet? she said she'd be waiting for you by the exit."

"Uhhh . . ." the pause drawled out of my mouth slowly as I removed my eyes from my parents on my phone and to the sea of people at the airport collecting their luggage. It takes a moment but when I spot the girl she sticks out like a sore thumb. Standing at only 5'5 with blemish-free tawny skin and sharp hazel eyes, Lourdes Khadir is someone who catches eyes easily, even when she isn't trying. She's been like that since we were kids.

When she spots me she instantly raises her hands in the air and waves frantically, before she comes strutting over in her platform heels and purple tweed designer two-piece that only made her stand out more in the dull-colored airport.

"She's coming over right now," I tell my parents on the phone before squaring my shoulders, I made my move, trying to get over and meet her halfway. She saw me coming and immediately stepped in my path. "Cassian, oh my God!" her voice is warm and pitched, and she embraces me in a hug that instantly fills my nostrils with her fruity scent, strawberry, and a hint of something else sweet.

"Lo, how have you been?" I hugged her back, my arms wrapping around her small frame challenging my 6'1 causing me to bend down a bit to get the most out of her.

She pulled me apart and gave me a once-over. "I've been good," she answers shoving my shoulder playfully. "it's been like what? ten years since we last saw one another?"

"It's literally only been three years since we graduated from Stratford." I chuckled at her exaggeration.

"Let us see her Cassian!" I hear my parents say from the phone and I'm slightly embarrassed when Lourdes hears them as well. Her eyes sent a raised brow look before she lets out a laugh. With a slight groan, I hold up the phone and turn it towards the girl for my parents to see. "Aw, Lourdes you've gotten even more beautiful since the last time we saw you." my mother cooed into the phone.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bergman." Lourdes smiles in the camera, a soft manicured hand reaching up to comb through her black shoulder-length hair.

My father sticks his face in the camera. "You take care of Cassian for us, alright? Don't let him get into any trouble," he says, voice stern and deep, but there's subtle playfulness in it as well.

"Got it, Mr. Bergman. You don't have to worry, Cassian is in good hands." Lo offers my parents another smile in the camera and they send her a thankful nod.

The Khadir and Bergman family have been mutual friends with one another since before I was even born. A college roommate turned friendship blossomed between my father and Lourdes's father, and the two went on to start empires of their own. The fact that they've managed to even stay in each other good graces despite the amount of success and fame that clings to both their names is beyond me, but I'm thankful for it because that's how I grew to meet Lourdes. We've been attached to each hip since toddlers and it was sad that we had to go our separate ways after graduating high school. It's kinda crazy how even after a couple of years we still managed to end up back with one another, like fate in a way.

I guess in some way one could say Lourdes is my best friend — a forever friend.

Once we end the FaceTime call with my parents, Lourdes leads me out of the airport and to her white Maserati I remember her parents got her as a graduation present. I'm surprised she still has it and hasn't switched it out for something a little more trendy. I packed my things in her car which wasn't a lot since my parents are having most of my belonging shipped this week so I can just settle in without the stress of everything else. It doesn't take us long before we leave the airport and head towards the university which is only a few minutes away.

Columbus University, home of the Wildcats.

The campus of CU sprawls massive and imposing at the bottom of the low hill the car has just crested, the streets of which are lined by small to mid-sized residential homes and apartment buildings. I can see Greek life symbols on a handful of the buildings' doors and CU banners in the windows of many more, leading to the conclusion that this is a primarily college student-occupied neighborhood at the edge of campus. Lourdes parked the car at the edge of a mob of cars, filled with students and families looking for parking spots from which they can unload.

The energy of move-in day buzzed annoyingly around me, the air filled with hundreds of voices, calling out to and speaking with one another. Older students in neon vests with 'MOVE-IN GUIDE' on the backs in massive, easily readable letters help confused new arrivals and high-strung parents find their desired destinations.

The University campus is both a strange and magnificent sight to behold. Over three hundred acres and almost fifteen thousand students, a complete step up from my old school.

"Wow," Lourdes breathes from beside me, her eyes adjusting the black Dior shades on the bridge of her sculpted nose. "Can you believe we're attending the same school . . . again?" I sent her a look but a group of sorority girls in matching T-shirts catch my eyes and my gaze start to wonder but Lourdes quickly nudges me in my shoulder and snaps me back to reality. "Don't forget why you're here Cas." she reminds me with a smug on her lips.

"Speaking of . . . do you know where I can find the soccer field? I'm supposed to be meeting with Coach Carter the moment I set foot on CU soil." I asked.

Lourdes nods her head, hands coming up to adjust her shades again. "Yeah, the field is not too far from here actually," she tells me as she begins to lead the way.

As we walk around the campus Lourdes makes sure to give me her own personal version of a tour. She made sure to let me know that the student center located in the middle of campus is always crowded no matter the time of day, and the quad is where everyone hangs out before, after, and during classes. The fraternities and sororities on campus are cool, but don't drink their mysterious Blue Juice if you value having your liver. The café and diners on campus are pretty good, and the professors here really value you just being there.

I made a mental note of everything she was saying and kept it tucked away in the back of my head for when I might find them useful. For now, the only thing on my mind was meeting Coach Carter and getting a look at the team myself. When we got to the field I can already see the team running around on the field. A sea of white jerseys with black numbers printed on them runs back and forth on the freshly mowed grass of the field. We move a little closer and get a better view.

"I think you'll get along with the team just fine." Lourdes nudges me in the shoulder, looking at me with an almost sarcastic look on her but before I could even call her out on it she turns her attention towards the field where shouting could be heard.

"Yo!" one boy calls aloud causing me to turn my head towards him on the field. He's sprinting down to the goal at the far end of the field, the ball flicking expertly between his feet. He bounds down the field, dodging a tackle or two, and then it's like it happens in slow motion. The boy is suddenly right in front of the goal and I watch him bring back his long and toned leg before his foot comes back to seamlessly connect with the ball, sending it sailing right through the goalkeeper's outstretched arms.

"NET!" the boy's screams were nearly deafening as he threw a fist in the air before doing a little dance on the field causing the others around him to roll their eyes and laugh.

Lourdes exhales a sigh. "I see everyone seems to be as lively as usual," she said with a small smile.

I keep my eyes trained on the field as the boys all started to yell and jump around like kids on a playground. "I can't imagine it being easy to concentrate with all this noise."

"It's even worse when it's an actual game." A voice comes up behind us causing both Lourdes and I to turn around quickly to see an older-looking man, and judging from the whistle around his neck and clipboard in his hands, this must be Coach Carter. He raised a dark eyebrow. A cool expression was present on his face. With his shiny bald head and eyes so brown they appeared black, his skin looked paler than it actually was, which caused him to look even scarier. Even his smiles were wicked, almost humorous.

"Coach Carter?" I asked and he nods in response. "I'm Cas-"

"Oh, I know who you are." Coach Carter talked with this ancient aura around him as if he was older than he seemed. As if he belonged in another world. And maybe he did. He was one of the best soccer players of his time, even going as far as to play in the World Cup in 2014.

Which was why my father even picked this school for me — picked him to be my coach. He's brutal, unforgiving. He did everything, no matter the measure, to make sure his players were the best they could be. No excuse was good enough for him. He pushed. Stretching the muscles until they grew several inches. Bending bones until they suited his needs.

That was how he got his nickname after all - the Bone Carter.

"Well Cas, just let me know when you're done here and I'll come by and help you settle in, okay?" Lourdes says to me before rubbing my shoulder in a comforting manner as she walks back the way she came leaving me and coach alone.

Coach Carter raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me. "Like what you saw out there Bergman?" a deadly smile appeared on his face as if he knew my deepest secrets. I turned my eyes back to the field so I won't have to look into his dead eyes but also to get another glance at the team I'll be playing with for the season.

A few heads were already turned in my direction, eyes lingering between Coach Carter and me, and I knew they were sizing me up, heads filling to the brim with questions. I could see it in their face, in the way they whispered to one another, looked at one another. Even the loud boy who scored a goal was watching me from afar, a tattooed hand running through his matted black hair that was drenched in sweat.

"I'll have to see a little more before I can give an honest answer," I tell him truthfully and from the slight tug in the corner of his lips I assume that's the right answer.

Coach grabs his whistle that's dangling around his neck and blows it catching the boys on the field's attention. "Alright, that's enough for today. Hit the locker room. We got some things to talk about!" The boys don't waste any time before they start moving with a purpose. Coach turns back to me. "It's gonna be an interesting season." he shakes his head and sighs.

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EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES OR ERRORS