To be completely honest, I chose to study business because I thought it would be easy.

Spoiler alert: it is not easy. Especially when you decide to major in accounting.

I mean, sure, I failed math in sophomore year of high school, and almost failed in junior year. But I thought I'd grown. Matured. My brain had developed, and yet math was still torture.

I had a microeconomics class twice a week after practice, and I never wanted to go. Not only was the class difficult, but I had no friends to sit with, no one to share notes with, and no one to make the two-hour lecture slightly more entertaining.

I dreaded class.

Being a college athlete meant I dedicated most of my days to training. I'd quickly fallen behind in my classes, my assessments piling up and the number of missed lectures way higher than I'd have liked it to be.

And since most of my life was spent on the soccer field, if I had no friends in my team, I definitely wouldn't have friends outside of soccer. I didn't have the time to talk to people, to mingle. I'd missed most parties since I'd started college.

Most of my time was spent with a team who hated me.

I groaned, shoving through the doors to the lecture hall and taking a seat far in the back, pulling a hood over my head. I dropped my backpack by my feet and slouched down, pulling my phone out.

I was early, and everyone else who had arrived early sat with their friends, chatting. Laughing. And suddenly, it felt like everyone was laughing at me.

I shrank further into my seat, wishing I could turn invisible. Wishing for the lecture to just start already.

I unlocked my phone, flipping through multiple apps until I paused on Instagram. All of my old friends seemed to be having the time of their lives at college. I tapped on the first story I saw, posted by Aspen.

We'd left off with things between us slightly awkward when high school ended. I had liked her. I knew it was stupid, pointless – she was dating Isaac – but I couldn't help it.

She and Isaac were studying at a café together. Isaac drew, oblivious to the camera, and cracked a joke. The video wobbled as Aspen laughed and Isaac finally looked up, realising she was filming her. He lunged for the camera and she spun, giggling, until the video finally cut out.

I sighed, immediately closing the app, and staring at my blank home screen – my notifications, my dozens of unread messages from Aspen, Isaac and everyone else from our hometown.

They'd made the right decision – going to college together. I regretted moving so far away for a sports scholarship. I mean, sure, it meant I was able to go to college with much less debt than I could have elsewhere, and Pyrus had one of the best soccer teams nationwide, but God. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't miserable.

And I seriously missed them.

Except, between soccer and classes, I barely had time to respond. It didn't help that most of their texts were along the lines of How's soccer going? How's college?

How do you tell someone you're having an existential crisis over text?

I scrolled to the top of my unread messages to find one from just ten minutes ago – from Chloe.

I'd known Chloe since the start of high school. She was childhood friends with Isaac, and I liked her because she was blunt and didn't fawn over me like the rest of the girls did.

We'd gone through a bit of a rough patch towards the end of our senior year, when she was giving Aspen the cold shoulder. She was always bad at handling her emotions, especially coming from such an unforgiving household.

We were better now. And it was nice to see a text from her.

From Chloe: Hey Seb, haven't spoken in a while. How's college going?

I groaned, typing out: Horrible. I have no friends. My team hates me. I'm failing all my classes. And I think my muscles are permanently numb from the amount of training I've been doing.

My finger hovered over the send before giving up and erasing the entire message.

Instead, I wrote: Great! Super fun! Soccer is going well! You?

I stared at the message I'd sent, second guessing my wording. It sounded like an obvious lie. Three dots appeared beneath, signalling that Chloe was typing, before disappearing, then appearing again.

A second later, she replied.

From Chloe: when's your next match?

I blinked. She'd completely ignored my question. She knew I was lying.

This was bad.

I had a match almost every week, whether they were just practice matches or not, but I didn't want Chloe to know that. No. If she was asking about my matches, that meant she was planning to show up to one. And if she showed up to one, she'd see me sitting on a bench the whole time, then being excluded by the rest of the team. And if she saw that...

That couldn't happen.

To Chloe: Not sure yet, I'd have to check haha

Chloe responded immediately, telling me to let her know as soon as possible. I snorted, pocketing my phone. Yeah, right. That'd happen.

No, I'd just conveniently forget until I was good enough to play. Until Coach put me on the field and the team saw me as one of them.

This is why I ignore my texts, I reminded myself.

I tapped my fingers against my knee. I had no classes tomorrow. That gave me a whole day of training that I could do. Granted, I had piles of classwork to catch up on, but... Soccer was more important.

Soccer came first.

"Hi."

I blinked, looking up to find the same girl from yesterday's training standing beside me. She tugged at her backpack straps, rocking on her heels, and smiled at me.

"Can I sit here?" she asked when I didn't respond.

I nodded, finally snapping out of my daze, and forcing a chuckle.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, sorry. I – uh – I didn't know you were in this class..."

"Flora," she filled in, smiling. She slid into the seat beside me, beginning to pull out her laptop and prepare for the class.

The lecturer had arrived and was setting up the slideshow at the front. I turned back to Flora.

"Sebastian," I replied.

She nodded, her eyes on the laptop. "I know. You're on the soccer team with Reed, aren't you?"

"Yeah." I said. My face warmed as I remembered her seeing me brushed off by the rest of the team after practice. I turned away, beginning to pull out my own laptop. "I am."

"I've seen you play," she said. My breath caught in my chest and I waited for her to say something. To insult me. Make fun of my technique, or compare me to the other, better members on the team. "You're really good."

I spun to meet her eyes, to try to figure out if she was joking, or teasing me, but she smiled at me. Genuinely.

"Thanks," I said. I suddenly felt a lot brighter. It was the first compliment I'd received on my playing since high school. I warmed, repeating, "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, you are good! I mean, you could work on your free kicks a little more, but you're crazy dedicated. I've seen you train," she said.

I frowned, my brow furrowing. "Wait, wait. What do you mean, work on my free kicks more?"

She looked away quickly, shrugging. "Well... eighty percent of the time, you aim for the same spot, you know. The way you move before you kick – it's a tell. That's how Amar's been able to block most of them."

It was true. Almost every goal I've tried to score had been easily blocked by Amar. Back in high school, I'd picked out a weak spot of our goalie during practice and had somehow formed a habit of aiming for the same spot, especially during free kicks. I'd become good at it – my technique for that move became stronger and I'd stopped testing out anything else.

I pursed my lips in annoyance. Why hadn't Amar told me? Or the coach? I'd just wasted weeks of free kicks that Flora had solved in five seconds.

Now I had to spend tomorrow training all day.

My tells – what were my tells? Maybe if I recorded myself...

"I'm sorry," Flora said, and I looked up to see her frowning at me with a creased brow. "I didn't mean to insult you. I just – it slipped out."

"No, no!" I interrupted quickly, waving a hand. "I'm not offended or anything. You're right. I was just thinking about how I could improve."

"Oh," she said slowly. "Are you sure you're not angry with me?"

I laughed, nodding. "I'm sure. Thanks, Flora. Next practice, you'll see how much you've seriously helped me."

Her smile brightened and I paused.

"You do come to each practice though, right? I wasn't mistaken?"

Her face tinted pink and her smile slipped slightly. She turned back to her laptop, tapping on some keys and avoiding my eyes.

"Yep," she said. "That's me."

"No wonder you noticed my tell," I said thoughtfully. I turned in my seat to face her. "You have to tell me what else you've noticed."

"Oh." She blinked, then frowned. "You don't think it's weird?"

I wrinkled my brow. "Why would I think it's weird?"

"Because... I'm not on the team or anything but I still go to every practice. Even the sunrise ones. That's weird."

"I mean, I guess I never thought of it like that," I said. I sent her a half-shrug, grinning. "It's just dedicated. Same as us training. Honestly, it's kind of nice to know that some people appreciate our team to that extent. Motivates us to do better."

"Oh." She stared at her laptop, though I noticed her lips tilt in the semblance of a smile. "Well, there's not really much else. Just work on your striking, since you're a striker, right?"

I blinked, nodding. Not even Reed had realised I was a striker, and he was the team's captain. Flora had really been watching us carefully.

"I knew it," she said, grinning proudly at her observational skills. "I mean, Reed's always got you on defence or as a midfielder, but I've seen your solo training. You're a striker, through and through."

"Flora," I started, quietly. The lecturer at the front had already hooked his microphone up and I was trying to get this out quickly. "What about everyone else on the team? Did you notice anything about their technique? Their plays? What about Reed? Or Alex?"

Her smile grew, and then she was laughing. "Do I? I could tell you their life stories. Most of Pyrus' soccer team are from my high school. St Mark's. We're a soccer school."

My brows lifted. It all made sense. No wonder the team had instantly formed into an exclusive clique. No wonder Flora waltzed up to the players like she'd known them her whole life. She probably did.

They all knew each other.

I was the odd one out.

"Good morning, everyone. Thank you for waiting. These microphones get more and more confusing every year," the lecturer announced, eliciting a quiet chuckle from the room. He stepped to the centre of the stage, beginning the lecture.

Flora slid closer.

"Is it just me, or does he look like Colonel Sanders from KFC?" she whispered.

I looked up. He did – with the necktie and everything. I snorted, then quickly clasped a hand over my mouth. She met my eye, amusement sparking in them, and I fought to stop myself from laughing more.

The lecturer continued, oblivious to us making fun of him from the back of the hall, and when I was turning to Flora to make another joke about one of the outdated memes he'd added to his presentation, it hit me.

I had a friend.

I had a friend to share notes with. I had a friend to make jokes with. I had a friend.

God, I'd really hit rock bottom if this was what I was excited about. Chloe and Isaac would tease me to no end. But there was no denying it. I was elated.

At the end of the class, we stood together, chatting about the content of the lecture. Flora slid out of the rows first, and I followed, hurrying out of the crowded bottleneck forming at the exit, when I bumped into a solid shoulder.

I blinked, stumbling back to apologise, only to meet the same dark eyes I'd seen across the field yesterday.

The boy met my eye, recognising me immediately. A smirk grew on his lips, the same arrogant smirk he'd sent me when he'd caught me staring. His gaze moved from Flora to me.

"Oh," he said. His voice was smooth and full of the same arrogance that his smirk held. "I see you've finally found a friend."

And he turned, leaving me in the lecture hall with a slack jaw and fuming with anger.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi! I hope you're enjoying this story so far! Let me know your thoughts! What do you think of Flora? Seb? It's kind of weird writing from a guy's POV but I hope you're liking it!

Next time: Sebastian makes an enemy, or two.