Page 33 of A Game as Old as Time

She twisted toward him, using every ounce of energy she had not to hit him.

“This!” she yelled, pointing to his steady approach. “This is why I want nothing to do with you!”

He stopped, looking confused.

“You act like you can just do whatever you want. Clearly, I wanted time to myself! Clearly, I wanted to practice by myself!” His face fell. “But you are Gunner Weston!” She threw her hands up in the air. “And if Gunner Weston wants to talk to a girl, he can just come by whenever and she will talk to him.”

There!

He shook his head as if he disagreed but said nothing in response.

“You think you’re something special? You think because you play quarterback on the football team that people should just give you whatever you want?” She could not help drawing nearer to him. “Well, I have something to tell you, Gunner Weston!”

His eyes were defeated as they met hers.

“I have met a million of you. Watched my dad coach spoiled brats like you and watched them come and go.” His shoulders sagged. “You take what you want, and you do not care who you hurt along the way. So please, Gunner Weston, just leave me alone, and don’t ever speak to me again!”

She was up on her toes, practically nose to nose with him as her face began to burn.

Is he going to cry?

She recoiled a bit at his defeated demeanor. But then he straightened and clicked his tongue.

“So, that’s what you think of me? Huh?” His voice was low, and he shied away. “I’m just some dumb jock that gets whatever he wants.”

Exactly!

Her back stiffened at his renewed pomposity.

“Well, at least I’m not afraid to take my chances.” He spun back toward her; the despondent, sad expression had been replaced by an arrogant frown. “At least I’m not afraid to be in the spotlight, to take the lead!”

No, he did not!

She clenched her hands together.

“You’re just like your father!”

Excuse me!

“You preach and preach and preach, but you can’t even take your own advice!”

Her face was boiling as she jumped forward.

“You have no idea about my father and what he has been through!” She thrust her finger at him, her foot punctuating her words against the wooden stage. “You quit during the last game! You walked off the field, and you let him and your teammates down!”

He glared over at her, his eyes alight with a fiery glower.

“I guess your father would know a lot about quitting.”

That’s it!

She threw her books at him and ran down the steps.

“You are so full of yourself, Gunner Weston!” She was now in front of the stage, shouting up at him. “You want to know why we left California? You want to know why my dad quit his job?”

He had not flinched when she threw her books, and he hadn’t moved since.

“My dad coached at that stupid college for five years! He gave them everything, won silly football games, and went to all the ridiculous fundraising events!” Her body was pressed against the apron of the stage as the rage took over. “The weekend before their big bowl game, my sister went to a party with the quarterback of his team. A monster just like you, Gunner!”

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