The Player novel Chapter 5

Brielle

10:32 PM

"Do it again!" I yelled, trying to be heard over the blasting music. Christopher and I had been practicing for about an hour and a half, and we had gotten absolutely nowhere. Today was supposed to be easy for him, since I was just teaching the fundamentals. However, with how much he was currently struggling, I was hopeless that he would be able to do an entire routine for the showcase in just two months.

"Honestly, how many times were you hit in the head? I've been teaching you the five basic positions for over an hour and you still don't remember them!"

Stepping away from Christopher, who was currently trying, and failing, at the ballet barre, I swigged from my water bottle. All the yelling that I was doing was breaking me into a sweat.

"I don't think that yelling at me counts as teaching," He complained back, groaning in the process. He stepped away from the barre, seemingly giving up, and sat down with his back against the mirrored wall. He ran his hands through his hair, obviously frustrated with himself.

Seeing him in this state, distraught and beaten down, couldn't help but make me smile. Just a few days earlier, he was THE Christopher Russel, untouchable and perfect in everyone's eyes. But now he sat in front of me, worn down after only an hour of dance taught by yours truly.

"Why are you smiling?" He asked, in between pants. His eyes were squinted in an attempt to keep the sweat out of them, and his face was actually contorted in pain from how bad his body already ached.

And this is our star quarterback? I'm surprised we've ever won.

"Nothing," I said, a smile on my lips. "I just think it's funny that Vista Valley's star athlete can't handle a little ballet."

He scoffed, "Oh and you think that doing football is easy?" Now laughing he continued. "I bet you five bucks that you couldn't even make a field goal if you tried twenty times."

"Oh please," I rolled my eyes. "I could do it on my first." I don't know why I lied, because I knew that I couldn't make it if I had a hundred tries, but I just wanted to wipe that smug little smirk off his face.

"Prove it." He said. "Let's go right now."

Crap.

"No, we can't because..." I scrambled for an excuse, my face now turning red. "...we have to finish practicing." I let out a deep breath, thanking god that I came up with a reason.

"If I take a break I'll be more focused." He now began to stand up, waiting for me to do the same.

"The football field is locked!"

"I have a way in."

"I don't have any gym shoes!" I said, scrambling for anything at this point.

"They're right over there..." He said, confused, pointing to my Nikes in the corner.

Traitors.

"Wait a second, you're scared that you're going to lose, aren't you? Are you afraid of a little bet?" He mocked, having too much fun at my expense.

Seeing that I had no choice at this point, I gave up trying to prevent the inevitable.

"No, I just wanted to save you the embarrassment of losing." I got up, switching out my ballet flats for my gym shoes. "Let's go."

~~~

"You know on second thought, I don't think that this was a good idea."

Christopher and I now stood in front of the field goal, which looked much bigger on the field than it did in the bleachers. It was pitch black outside, and Christopher's way of getting into the stadium was climbing over the ten-foot locked fence.

"Seriously, what if we get caught?" Christopher may be used to breaking the rules, but I tried to be a good student. I couldn't afford to get any marks on my record.

"Oh relax." He said brushing me off. "Now do this field goal that you were bragging about."

"You know the wind is a little off so I don't thin- "

"If this is your way of forfeiting then I can take my five dollars now." He stuck his hand out, waiting for me to give it to him.

I slapped his hand away from me. "You wish."

I rediverted my attention to the field goal, praying that by some miracle I would be able to make it. I tried to bring back all the memories of football I had, which was just a few super bowls and high school matches. Darn my hate for sports.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared to make a complete fool of myself.

"One," I said, trying to line my foot up with the ball.

"Two," My eyes began to close as I brought my leg back, preparing to kick. Even my body didn't want to see this disaster.

"Thre- "

Before I could kick the ball, the florescent lights in the stadium flashed on, causing me and Christopher to cover our eyes.

"Just be at the studio tomorrow at seven."

Before I could even close the door, my older brother Scott came storming out of my house, his face contorted in anger. I walked up to him, trying to understand what he was mad about. However, once I reached him, he rushed right past me and straight to Christopher.

"What are you doing with my sister?" Scott yelled, grabbing Christopher by the collar and dragging him out of the car. "Stay away from her!"

I ran up to them, trying to pull them apart, but it was of no use.

"Nothing happened!" I attempted to shout to Scott. But before I could finish, Christopher cut me off.

"What's the issue?" he said shoving Scott away from him. "We were just playing around at my house, nothing that I haven't done before." My face grew hot as I grew angrier. He was using me to get under my brother's skin, even though we didn't do anything.

Upon hearing this information, Scott lifted his fist and punched Christopher in the face. Christopher spat on the ground and wiped his mouth, getting ready to punch back. I knew that if I wanted to stop this, I would have to do something, and fast.

"Stop!" I yelled, jumping in-between the two of them. "Please."

Scott's eyes softened as they looked at me. However, once he glanced up at Christopher's face, they hardened again instantly.

"Go inside Brielle." He spat, pushing me out of the way. "I'll deal with you later."

"She didn't seem so submissive a few hours ago." Christopher butt in, only making the situation worse.

"God stop it!" I screamed finally reaching my breaking point. "Christopher, you know that none of that happened, and for the love of God Scott stop treating me like I'm five! I'm sixteen and smart enough to make my own choices!"

"If you were smart enough to make your own choices, you wouldn't be coming home with him at eleven at night." He clenched his fists as a vein popped out of his neck. "Get inside the house, and don't make me say it again."

"You can't tell me what to do!"

"Watch me."

He did this all the time, always taking on the role of my dad when I didn't ask him. An overprotective brother was useful when I was young and needed protecting, but I was a teenager now. And while I never claim that I know it all, I was certainly old enough to make my own decisions. It was frustrating that he constantly tried to tell me what to do, and I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to show him that he couldn't control me anymore, and that I was my own person.

I took a deep breath and braced myself to the most stupid thing that I've ever done. I spun on my heels, walked past both of them, and hopped into the passenger seat of Christopher's car.

I waved at Scott from inside the car, relishing in his astonishment, before turning my attention to Christopher.

"Are you coming or not?"