Author: Savage7289 PM
Edward's the star keeper for the Forks High School soccer team, and is already being scouted by leagues overseas. Bella's just moved from Phoenix and interferes with his…focus. Soccerward lives! Rated M for the good stuff, of course.Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Drama - Edward & Bella - Chapters: 125 - Words: 170,098 - Reviews: 32,677 - Favs: 5,860 - Follows: 3,948 - Updated: 08-30-11 - Published: 05-30-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7036128
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Summary – Edward's the star keeper for the Forks High School soccer team, and is already being scouted by leagues overseas. Bella's just moved from Phoenix and interferes with his…focus. Soccerward lives!
Rated M for the good stuff, of course
Disclaimer: All the Twilight stuff belongs to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just galloping in her galoshes.
I'm the first to admit that the way my head works doesn't always make sense, especially not to me. While I was writing CBWR? (yeah, for those who didn't find it again – it's reposted on a blog and complete – link can be found on my FFN profile), it was really helping me get through some rough spots with UC. Now that CBWR is complete, I'm having the same problem with UC as I was before. It's driving me nuts. I think I have to be writing EPOV at all times just to keep my sanity.
So, I'm going to start this craziness again, and like CBWR?, the idea would be to attempt to post at least once a day (though never any promises), sometimes more than once. Short chaplets. EPOV throughout. I promise plenty of smut later on, and enough UST enough to gag a horse named Volvo from the get-go. Ooo – that rhymed!
WARNING! I'm leaving the categories General/General, because right at this moment, I have NO IDEA where this story will go. Chances are (if you are not a brave, trusting soul) at some point you aren't going to like something that happens or something Edward does. Chances are he's going to be a bit of a self-centered douche and/or asshole. Maybe a doofus. I don't know yet. There will be smut, there will be angst, there will be humor, and who knows what else. My sideline goal (HA! Soccer pun!) is to make sure everyone who reads this understands offside by the end of the story. I will try to keep the soccer terms to a minimum. If you need a term explained, I recommend the link below.
***Update long after original chapter - this story contains physical and emotional abuse.
As far as the subject matter - blame Twitter and JadaPattinson for this. She wanted an Athleteward, and I've wanted to do a Soccerward for a while.
The next thing I knew, I was seeing red.
Ignoring Jessica Stanley's grating voice coming from behind the goal, I tried to wipe sweat from my eyes with the back of my glove, but I think all I really managed to do was rub mud across my face. I tipped the ball with the toe of my cleat to the right and then to the left, keeping it close and within my control. The opposing team's striker jogged up, trying to put a little pressure on me. I waited until the last possible second before bending over and grabbing the ball off the ground.
I had six seconds.
I tossed the ball up into the air, and then gripped it a little tighter as I ran to the top of the box. I could see Emmett, the central defender, heading left and drawing one of their midfielders with him, which left Newton wide open. I punted the ball straight to him with a second to spare.
"Oh my God, that was so awesome!"
Damn, that chick was annoying.
With the score tied at one-to-one, I couldn't afford to make any mistakes. It was only the first game of the season, but it was also the one that would set the pace for the rest of the year. Having what had to be the single most obnoxious cheerleader in the history of cheerleading right behind my goal was not helping the situation. I don't think I had ever even given her the time of day. No, definitely not. I might have taken her virginity when we were both drunk during the end of year bonfire down at LaPush Beach, but I definitely never told her what fucking time it was.
Seven minutes left in the game. I caught an easy one when it came straight at me, rolled it to Emmett, and he took off down the side of the field. I yelled at Newton and Crawley to head right, and when Emmett belted an incredible cross to the far side of the box, Crawley was there with the header.
Jessica's screech was enough for me to turn around and glare at her.
"Will you shut the fuck up?" I snapped. She just giggled and linked arms with some girl I hadn't seen before. She was small, and wearing a hoodie drawn up over her head. If I was hanging out with Jessica Stanley, I'd be hiding under a hood, too. The two of them headed towards the corner where the tunnel to the locker rooms was located, and I focused back on the game.
The forwards were moving up on me – jersey number sixteen on the right and number four on the left. The one on the right was offside by at least ten feet, so I turned my attention to the other one, who was currently blocked by Emmett. The ball flew over the midfielders' heads and number sixteen on the right trapped the ball and started to swing his leg back. I straightened up, waiting for the offside flag to go up and the whistle to sound as the ball flew past my right shoulder and into the goal behind me.
The ref blew the whistle and signaled a goal while I looked from him, to the line ref at the side, and back again. He was taking his booklet out of his back pocket and scribbling on it.
"You're kidding, right?" I snapped. "He was offside by a mile!"
The ref shook his head from one side to the other as he marked the score two-all. I stomped up to the top of the box where the ref stood and tossed my hands in the air.
"This isn't a SAY game, you idiot!" I yelled. "Are you fucking blind or just smoking crack?"
The next thing I knew, I was seeing red.
A red card, that is.
I stomped off the field and through the tunnel to the locker rooms, staring at the ground and ignoring the cheers and jeers from the crowd. As I got to the mouth of the tunnel, Jessica was babbling some bullshit, but I didn't even listen to her words. I was still looking at the ground and not really watching where I was going, which is how I managed to slam right into Jessica's new friend.
"Get the fuck out of my way!" I growled. I looked down into bright, wide brown eyes as they stared up at me in shock. I watched her lower lip disappear behind her teeth and felt my cock get hard.
Like I needed that shit.
Not during my last high school season.
I needed focus.
I pushed past her and stormed out of the bright sunlight and into the dark hallway. Inside the locker room I stripped, showered and started dressing again without even bothering with a towel. I shook my hair and droplets landed on the mirror in front of me. I turned to one side, examining the bruise running up my bicep that appeared to have a distinct hexagon shape to it.
I took a deep breath and dropped to the bench in front of my locker – locker number one, just like the number on my jersey. I was the fucking star, and everyone knew it.
Everyone except that fucking ref.
I wondered where he was from, and who brought him to our field. He had to be from out of town, or the fucker never would have carded me. The refs around here just know better.
Grabbing my bag out of my locker, I fished out my phone and started going through contacts. I found who I was looking for and hit the send key.
"Hey Cullen!" the voice said. "What can I do for ya?"
"Find out who was reffing my game today and have the fucker's credentials revoked."
"No idea. Five foot five, bald and blind as a fucking bat. If this game had been a World Cup game, he'd have to be quietly removed from the country just to keep him from ending up with a bullet in his skull. Fucking idiot."
"You get a yellow?"
"Damn!" I heard a low whistle. "Gotcha. I'll find out who it was. You won't see him again."
"Better not, or it's your ass," I told him.
"Nice. Going to the dance tonight?"
"Probably." I ended the call and threw my phone back in my locker. Swiveling around, I leaned against the locker door and stretched my legs out far in front of me, pointing my toes in the air and loosening my ankles.
Red carding me.
Doesn't he know who the fuck I am?
According to Shakespeare – some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. Somehow, I got all three.
Now how was anybody supposed to live up to that?
Chapter end notes:
And so begins the tale of Soccerward!
Are ya with me?
Why Soccerward? Seriously? Have you looked at how those guys are built? I mean DAYUM!
Drop me a review, and we'll just have to see where this one goes.
For more information on my work, visit the blog at http:/shaysavage(dot)blogspot(dot)com/
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