I'M BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hey, it's Arden Andridge. I decided to keep up with this story. So, hope you enjoy.
Bridget stood at the goal line, and lined up the balls. Ten in a row, she kicked them into the goal at full speed, and watched with satisfaction as the net flew back each time. Standing in the soccer stadium at night with only two of the high lights on was a humbling experience. She practiced by herself when she needed to work off stress, or just needed to think. It seemed like she had both problems. Retrieving the balls, she lined them up again, and repeated the sequence. Even going after them again, she painstakingly put them back on the line, and took her place, about to kick
"You always were ready to charge."
She whipped around to see Eric fifteen feet behind her, standing just in the shadows. He was dressed in a loose track suit, and had his hands in his pockets
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to apologize."
"I don't want you apology."
"I didn't say I was going to."
She looked at him, pissed and confused.
"What?"
Eric took a few steps towards her, and stopped mere feet away.
"I said I came to apologize. But I've changed my mind. I'm not going to."
She looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the soccer balls.
"Don't you want to know why?"
(Kick)
"No."
(Kick)
"It's because you deserved it."
(Kick)
"Oh?"
(Kick)
"Yeah. It was all true."
(Kick)
"Well, that's your opinion."
(Kick)
"It is."
(Kick)
"Then go away."
(Kick)
"Not quite yet."
(Kick) (Kick)
She finished the last ball, and turned around angrily. Her hair was falling out of it's ponytail, and she was breathing a little heavily from the anger, frustration, and energy.
"What do you want, Eric."
He paused, then closed the distance between them so that they were almost face to face.
"I want you to be okay, Bee."
"I'm fine."
"No. You're not."
He gave her a sad smile, resisting the urge to curl a strand of hair behind her ear. Bridget crossed her arms, and unconsciously stuck her hip out a little- letting some of the old Bridget creep back in.
"I'm perfectly fine. And even if I wasn't, the school's got me doing
one hell of a med program."
"It's not the same Bee."
As if just remembering something, she got a little more fierce.
"My soccer does not suck. And don't call me Bee."
Taking a deep breath, Eric followed his instinct, and wrapped the stray strand around a finger, gently curling it behind her ear. Against her better judgment, Bridget instinctively closed her eyes, remembering is touch.
"I can live with you not wanting me in your life. Hating me
reappearing, and resenting me as your coach. But Bee, I just wanna see
you play. Like you used to. It was so amazing to watch. You used to
put your heart in there every time."
"Even when it was bleeding and broken for you."
He pulled back and looked down, getting his composure.
"I deserve that.........Kick your balls, Bee. But don't pretend you're the
only one whose hurting."
With that, he turned around and walked away, leaving Bridget to watch him go.
Please review
Hey, it's Arden Andridge. I decided to keep up with this story. So, hope you enjoy.
Bridget stood at the goal line, and lined up the balls. Ten in a row, she kicked them into the goal at full speed, and watched with satisfaction as the net flew back each time. Standing in the soccer stadium at night with only two of the high lights on was a humbling experience. She practiced by herself when she needed to work off stress, or just needed to think. It seemed like she had both problems. Retrieving the balls, she lined them up again, and repeated the sequence. Even going after them again, she painstakingly put them back on the line, and took her place, about to kick
"You always were ready to charge."
She whipped around to see Eric fifteen feet behind her, standing just in the shadows. He was dressed in a loose track suit, and had his hands in his pockets
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to apologize."
"I don't want you apology."
"I didn't say I was going to."
She looked at him, pissed and confused.
"What?"
Eric took a few steps towards her, and stopped mere feet away.
"I said I came to apologize. But I've changed my mind. I'm not going to."
She looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the soccer balls.
"Don't you want to know why?"
(Kick)
"No."
(Kick)
"It's because you deserved it."
(Kick)
"Oh?"
(Kick)
"Yeah. It was all true."
(Kick)
"Well, that's your opinion."
(Kick)
"It is."
(Kick)
"Then go away."
(Kick)
"Not quite yet."
(Kick) (Kick)
She finished the last ball, and turned around angrily. Her hair was falling out of it's ponytail, and she was breathing a little heavily from the anger, frustration, and energy.
"What do you want, Eric."
He paused, then closed the distance between them so that they were almost face to face.
"I want you to be okay, Bee."
"I'm fine."
"No. You're not."
He gave her a sad smile, resisting the urge to curl a strand of hair behind her ear. Bridget crossed her arms, and unconsciously stuck her hip out a little- letting some of the old Bridget creep back in.
"I'm perfectly fine. And even if I wasn't, the school's got me doing
one hell of a med program."
"It's not the same Bee."
As if just remembering something, she got a little more fierce.
"My soccer does not suck. And don't call me Bee."
Taking a deep breath, Eric followed his instinct, and wrapped the stray strand around a finger, gently curling it behind her ear. Against her better judgment, Bridget instinctively closed her eyes, remembering is touch.
"I can live with you not wanting me in your life. Hating me
reappearing, and resenting me as your coach. But Bee, I just wanna see
you play. Like you used to. It was so amazing to watch. You used to
put your heart in there every time."
"Even when it was bleeding and broken for you."
He pulled back and looked down, getting his composure.
"I deserve that.........Kick your balls, Bee. But don't pretend you're the
only one whose hurting."
With that, he turned around and walked away, leaving Bridget to watch him go.
Please review