HOW I TAMED THE PLAY BOY

RED CARD

"Hia, Williams!"

I tried to wipe the sweat from my eyes with the back of my glove while ignoring Braden Long's grating voice coming from behind the goal, but I suppose all I really managed to do was rub muck over my face. Ignoring Long's voice, I tried to ignore the fact that it was coming from behind the goal. By moving the ball to the right and then to the left with the toe of my cleat, I was able to keep it within my reach and maintain my control. The striker for the other team ran up to me in an effort to exert a little bit of pressure on me. Before stooping down and picking up the ball off the ground, I waited until the very last second that was still available.

I had a minute and six seconds.

I started my ascent to the pinnacle of the box by tossing the ball into the air, and as I ran, I grabbed it a little more tightly. I was able to see the central defender, Maxwell Wood, heading to the left side of the pitch. As he did so, he drew one of their midfielders with him, which opened up space for our striker, Tripp Fred. I had just one second to spare before I punted the ball directly to him.

"Oh my God! That was such a cool moment!

That girl was a real pain in the rear.

I just could not afford to make any blunders while the score was knotted at one point each. Even though it was the opening game of the season, it was also the one that would determine how the rest of the year would play out. The fact that I had what had to be the single most annoying cheerleader in the whole history of cheerleading standing directly behind my goal was making the situation even worse.

I couldn't remember the last time I even bothered to pay attention to what she had to say. Not at all, this is not the case. It's possible that I took her virginity while we were both intoxicated at the end-of-the-year bonfire on the beach, but I can guarantee that I never once informed her what time it was.

There are still seven minutes left in play. I was able to make a simple catch as it came straight at me, rolled the it to Maxwell, and he took off running down the sideline of the field. I motioned to Fred and the midfielder Holder Jerry to head to the right side of the pitch. Then, when Maxwell hammered a wonderful cross to the far side of the box, Holder was there with the header.

The screech that Braden made was enough to get me to turn around and give her the evil eye.

"Would you please be quiet for once?" I lost my temper. She made some sort of giggling sound and then locked arms with a girl who I hadn't seen before. She had a hoodie pulled up over her head and was rather petite for her age. If I were with Braden Longs, I would certainly be concealing my identity by wearing a hoodie.

Both of them started skipping in the direction of the corner that was closest to the tunnel that led to the locker rooms. It turned out that Braden skipped and pulled the other girl along with her. I gave myself a light headshake before refocusing my attention on the game.

Jersey number sixteen was coming up on me from the right, and jersey number four was coming up from the left. Because the player on the right was out of position by at least six feet, I switched my focus to the other player who was being prevented from moving forward by Maxwell.

After flying over the heads of the midfielders, the ball was caught by player number sixteen on the right side of the field, who then began to swing his leg back. As the ball sailed over my right shoulder and into the goal behind me, I immediately straightened up and waited for the official to blow the whistle and raise the flag signaling an offside violation.

While I was looking from him to the line official on the side and back again, the referee blew his whistle and declared a goal. He was writing in his booklet, which he pulled out of the pocket on the back of his shirt.

"You're kidding, right?" I lost my temper. "By a country mile, he was offside!"

As he recorded the score of two points each, the official shook his head from one side to the other as he did so. I climbed to the very top of the box until I was face to face with him, and then I threw both of my hands into the air.

"You complete moron, this is not a game for Pee Wees!" I yelled. We are not in our childhood! Are you fucking blind, or have you just been smoking crack all this time?

"Get back in position," he whispered as he stowed the book away in his pocket again. "Get back in position."

"Are you the fucking imbecile I think you are?" I made a fist of both hands. "Have you read the rule book, you fucking idiot?"

The next thing I knew, I was going completely red in the face.

A warning, in other words.

I walked off the field and into the tunnel leading to the locker rooms, staring at the ground and ignoring the boos and applause coming from the spectators as I went. When I arrived to the opening of the tunnel, Braden was talking nonsense, but I didn't pay attention to what she was saying. I was still seething and gazing down at the ground, so I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, which is how I managed to run right into Braden's new friend. I apologize to both of them.

"Get the f*** out of my path!" the speaker yelled. I yelled out loud before even turning to look at her. When I finally did look down, I noticed bright blue eyes staring up at me in shock, and they were quite wide open. As I watched her bottom lip get swallowed up by her teeth, I felt a tingling sensation in my cock.

Amazing, you guys.

As if I were in need of that crap.

No, not during my final year of high school competition.

I required concentration.

I shoved by her and stormed out of the brilliant sunlight and into the dim hallway as I left the area. After entering the locker room, I undressed to my underwear, washed, and immediately began redressing without even bothering to grab a towel. I gave my head a good shake to remove the water, and I watched as drops of water landed on the mirror in front of me. At least on the sides, I attempted to keep my hair relatively short, but the top of my head was a mess.

Even after grabbing a large glob of styling putty from the jar and attempting to work it into my light brown hair, I was unable to achieve the results I was hoping for. I tilted my head to the side and examined the bruise that ran up my bicep and appeared to have the distinct shape of a hexagon.

I found myself gazing into my own eyes for a brief moment. Because of the intense fluorescent lighting, the olive-green orbs had the appearance of being angry, which matched my state of mind well. After taking a few deep breaths, I lowered myself to the bench in front of my locker, which was numbered one to correspond with the number that was on my jersey. Everyone was aware that I was the fucking star of the show.

everyone else, with the exception of that fucking referee.

I was curious about his background and who had brought him to our field in the first place. I'd never seen him before. The jackass must have been from out of town, since otherwise he would not have carded me. The referees in this area simply had a greater understanding.

I reached into my locker and grabbed my purse, then dug out my phone and began scrolling through the contacts on it. After finding the person whose name I was looking for, I immediately hit the submit key.

The voice addressed Phanuel with, "Hey there!" "What is it that I can do for you?"

"Find out who was officiating my game today, and have that jerk's credentials removed." "Find out who was officiating my game today."

“Name?”

"No idea. He is only five feet and five inches tall, yet he is completely blind. If this had been a match for the World Cup, he would have had to be secretly taken out of the nation in order to avoid having a bullet lodged in his head as a result of the incident. Fucking idiot."

"Who's the center ref?"

“Yeah.”

"A yellow slip for you?"

“Red.”

“Damn!” The speaker on the phone let out a faint whistle that I could hear. “Gotcha. I'm going to find out who did it. You won't run into him ever again.

I cautioned him, saying, "Better not, otherwise it's your ass."

“Nice. Attending the dance later on tonight?"

“Probably.” After hanging up, I hurled my phone back into the locker where it had been sitting. I turned around and rested against the door of the locker while I extended my legs out in front of me as far as they would go. I pointed my toes upward and loosened the ligaments in my ankles.

Reference to motherfucking.

I'm getting a red card.

Does he have any effing idea who the fuck I am?

I pulled the covers over my head and clamped my jaw shut while clenching my teeth together as fiercely as I could. My fists were clenched, and a part of me secretly wanted that the referee would decide to come and "speak to me" after the game, so that I could have the opportunity to mess up his face.

When I heard the band start playing outside, I figured it was probably time to call the game. I was curious as to who would have volunteered to play goalie in the final few minutes of the game. We had already used up all of our substitutes, so Matty, who was supposed to be our backup goaltender, was unable to even take the field.

This poor cretin had the opportunity to participate in the first game of the year but was unable to.

Ha!

Fucker.