I don't really know what I think about these jerseys but whatever. Here's the chapter anyway.

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Dean: I can give it to you guys.

Keenan: Wait, but how do you have her number?

Dean: We're friends.

Evan: How come you get to be friends with her.

Dean: Guess she likes me more.

Smith: I'll end up being her fav.

Ethan: Good luck with that, she seemed kinda pissy when she talked to me.

Keenan: She prolly just doesn't like you.

Smith: I know she'll like me.

Me: Are you guys forgetting that I'm in this chat too?

Ethan: Wait, you are?

Me: Yep.

Ethan: Can we get ur number then?

Evan: Please?

Me: Fine. 908-872-1243.

Keenan: Thanks Babe. 😉

Me: 🙄

I laughed to myself and continued to tap away at my phone.

"What's so funny?" My dad asked, looking away from the road at me for a quick moment.

He let me sleep in this morning but was taking me to school for my last two periods.

"Just texting my friends." I replied.

If he knew I was smiling while texting the quarterbacks he wouldn't be all that happy.

434-877-9855: Hey. Sup?

Me: NM. Who's this?

434-877-9855: It's Smith

I went in to my contacts and made one for him.

Me: Oh hey. Watcha doing?

Smith: Trying not to die of boredom. I swear my Algebra 2 teacher is the worst.

Me: Damn really? I love Algebra.

Smith: I don't mind it either, but this dude is a literal dinosaur.

Me: Can't be that old.

Smith: Nope. He's like 87.

Me: Lol. No way. Ur lying, he can't be that old.

Smith: I'm not lying. He's actually 87. He has a fucking Nokia flip phone.

Smith: Aw shit. He just yelled at me to put my phone away. bye.

Me: Have fun with algebra lol.

Smith: I'll try.

I had a feeling that I'd be making a lot more friends today.

The truck pulled up in front of my school and I jumped out, saying a quick goodbye and thank you to my dad.

I was already a little late to third period so stopped at the office to get my late slip. I climbed three flights of stairs to get to my locker, and was almost a panting mess when I got there.

Worst part about going to a big school? All the god damned stairs.

After getting my things I headed back downstairs to the basement.

All the music and theater classes were in the basement, gym, physical education and wood shop were on the main floor. Then English and and foods classes on the second. Third floor was art, computer classes and other miscellaneous courses. And the top floor was Science and Math.

I'm personally not a fan of having this many floors and still having the same subjects as a school with only two floors but, at least I get some exercise walking around.

I pushed open the door and my teacher turned and smiled at me. I handed her my late slip and  sat down in my seat.

She went back to teaching us about Mozart as I zoned out.

On Mondays Mrs. Carter didn't let us play instruments. She forced us to sit through a boring lesson about a composer most of us couldn't care less about. And often she would go on tangents about how 'today's music is unbearable and a disgrace to the art.'

Whatever lady. You and your eight cats can listen to all the classic hits from the the sixteen hundreds. But I'll be over heat listening to Shawn Mendez and Camilla Cabello.

Not wanting to lose anymore brain cells listen to her go on about how rap is the devil's music, I pulled out my phone.

These guys just won't leave me alone. I laughed in my head, going through the messages from all the unknown numbers.

I did bring this on myself though.

It was nice having a bunch of hot football players flirting with me, but I still found myself only wanting to answer Dean.

I know I've been friends with him for a long time now, but we've definitely been talking more than before.

Dean: This is the worst class ever.

Me: What class?

Dean: Advanced Functions. There's this girl in my class that doesn't even know what a polynomial is.

Me: How? Don't you learn that shit in like grade four?

Dean: Yeah! Like everyone in this class is stupid.

Me: Are you calling yourself stupid?

Dean: That's not what I meant.

Me: Sureeeeee. There's no way everyone is as retarded as that girl though.

Dean: Nope. They are. One guy didn't even know slope y- intercept form.

Me: You're joking right?

Dean; I'm in a class room full of fucking idiots.

Me: Don't you have any friends in the class?

Dean: Only a few. And they're all skipping to get chick-fil-a.

Me: You didn't go with them?

Dean: Are you forgetting that my dad works here? He'd beat my ass if I skipped.

Me: Oh right. But can't you like sneak past him or something?

Dean: Teachers talk. Learned that one the hard way.

This reminded me of the time he explained the story of how he got grounded for the first time. It was his freshman year and he skipped class to get Chipotle and his Science teacher told his dad. He was grounded for two weeks.

Overkill if you ask me, but I'm not his dad.

Deciding I shouldn't be rude, I answered all the other messages too.

484-375-1209: Hey cutie.

Me: Keenan, is that you?

484-375-1209: how'd you know babes?

Me: Because you're really forward.

Keenan: Sorry. I can't help it. You're too cute.

Me: 🙄

Keenan: 😘

This boy was too much. I laughed quietly to myself.

304-824-8163: I have a question for you girly.

Me: Uh shoot.

304-824-8163: How come you left my letter in my locker? I wanted to meet you. Kennan says you're a hottie.

Me: I wanted to get to my hotel. I was tired.

Evan: Too bad. Now I gotta wait to see your pretty face.

My face heated up at the compliment. Then the bell rang and everyone filed out of class.

Time for me to try and survive P-fit.

###

My muscles ached, and I didn't want to have to spend hours driving tonight.

'Hey," Baylor ran up to me, panting a little. "Dad wants you to head straight to Delaware when we get home." He informed, holding the door open for me.

I nodded.

"Ryan Banks number three, right?" I asked.

"Yeah. You know the time of the practice?"

I had checked what school I was going to and knew what Ryan looked like, but I had forgotten to check the time and school.

"No. And what school is it?" I replied, getting in to the passenger seat of Baylor's black Ford pick-up.

I looked out the windshield at the empty football field.

An odd sight at this time. Practice was canceled today because the coach wasn't here.

Unfortunate, because the weather was no longer scorching hot. A nice fall breeze accompanied the blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds.

"J.L. Carmichael High. It's in Jefferson, Delaware. Practice goes till six. If you leave as soon as we get home you should get there by around five thirty." He explained, backing out of the parking space and turning on to the road.

Shit.

Stealing the jerseys won't be that easy. I'm gonna have to either come up with a distraction or get there fast.

I'm betting on the latter.

Before Baylor could even stop the car I jumped out and ran for the house. I almost fell as I ran up the stairs and slid in to my room.

In a matter of seconds I had grabbed my hoodie and wallet, shoved them in to my gym bag, grabbed a muffin and my car keys, and was out the door again.

I shoved the keys in the ignition and put the school in to the gps.

Two hours, one pit stop, an iced coffee and a muffin later I was parked in front of a small high school.

The time flashed on my dash. 5:47 pm.

I had to move fast.

Getting out of my Jeep I scanned the area and spotted a building next to the football field. But there was a menu next to it so I assumed it was the food booth thing.

I noticed a door next to the field, and decided it was the place I was looking for.

Making a mad dash for the door with my hoodie pulled up over my head.

After doing this five times before I should now be used to the smell, but apparently not. It was like a slap to the face, when the wave of body odor, Axe and deodorant washed over me.

The yellow lockers were labeled sloppily with masking tape and Sharpie.

None of these lockers had locks on them, causing my job to be way easier.

I began flinging open the metal doors and shoving the black, yellow and white jerseys in my bag.

Once I had finished I decided my safest exit was through the school and out the front door. If I get caught, the team will definitely recognize me when they see me at the games. Then my whole plan would be ruined.

And I really don't want that to happen.

I ran out the door, and exited the school, and tried my best to look casual as I approached the players.

Key word; tried.

I'm not very good at doing things when I tell myself to do them.

But nevertheless I walked up to the coach and asked him if I could see Ryan for a moment.

"Banks! Get over here!"

A tall brunette guy got up off the grass where he had been doing push-ups, and jogged over to me.

This man had more muscles than the god damned Pacific Ocean. I'm sure I could grate a block of cheese on his abs.

His tan skin was covered in beads of sweat, his sweat pants hung off his hips, allowing me to see part of his perfect v-line.

This man looked like he had fallen from the heavens.

"Uh, here." I didn't know what else to say as I gave him the envelope.

He took it from me, confusion written on his face, but tore it open anyway. He scanned the first few lines before turning around and yelling out to his team.

"GUYS, WE MADE THE JUNIOR BOWL!!!!" His thundering voice caused me to jump a little.

All the guys erupted with yells and cheers.

Ryan turned around and thanked me.

"Read the rest of the letter." I instructed, before turning and walking away.

Bing!

I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

Dean: You free tonight?

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Yay! This chapter is a nice and long one, so I hope y'all like it. Hope your weekend went well too. See you next week.

~Grace🏈