The Assistant Coach

The scorching heat outside is absolutely unbearable. Colorado's winters may be brutal, but the fall is no joke either. School has already started, and the heat is just too much. My denim shorts are practically glued to my skin, causing my thighs to chafe uncomfortably. I can feel the sweat trickling down my back, making me wish I had opted for a shower instead of just deodorant this morning. My green tank top does little to provide relief; I might as well be walking around naked in this heat. The fabric sticks to me like cling wrap, highlighting every imperfection and sweat stain. I can practically hear my sunscreen sizzling as it tries to protect me from the UV rays. The sunglasses perched on my nose are sliding down with each step, threatening to fall off and leave me blinded by both the sun and my own clumsiness. The air feels thick and suffocating, like trying to breathe underwater. I glance enviously at the ice cream truck parked on the corner, the colorful treats melt

I tug at my too-short black dress, courtesy of Ari's questionable fashion sense. My boobs are practically screaming for attention, and the damn thing keeps riding up with every step I take. And don't even get me started on these torture devices she calls sandals. They're so tight, I swear they're one sharp turn away from snapping. And my hair? Constantly in my face, thanks to the chilly wind or my never-ending battle with the dress. It's enough to make a girl lose her mind. Henson smirks at me, taking in the scene of a shirtless girl straddling a guy on the lawn, they're five seconds away from ripping each other's clothes off – all their clothes. "This place seems fitting for you," Henson remarks, earning an eye roll from me. "I feel right at home. And I'm sure Ari will be your personal knight in shining armor from these scary big jocks." I shoot back.He always finds some way to indirectly call me a slut, whether it was that one time I wore shorts to the beach or that time I d

I wake up feeling like I got hit by a truck, rubbing my temples to alleviate the throbbing pain. Blinking away the fog in my eyes, I discover Ari snoozing on top of me, while Henson is passed out on the floor. Typical. "GOOD MORNING, USA!" I shout, clapping my hands together loudly. Ari falls off me in surprise, landing on Henson who lets out a high-pitched yelp that wouldn't be out of place in a Disney princess movie. "I HAVE A FEELING THAT IT'S GONNA BE ONE SHITTY ASS DAY," I continue, as Ari retaliates by tossing a pillow my way, her fiery hair a wild mess. Gotta love American Dad. I haven't watched it since I was younger, but I do remember it was funny. I also really liked the opening. I like most openings, especially anime openings. Like 'gurenge' from demon slayer or 'unravel' from Tokyo Ghoul. I'm not really an anime fan, I just really like their intro song openings. I don't understand a single word, but I like the melody and lyrics, whatever the hell they mean. "Ca

I let out a loud sigh as I finally finish all my classes, Ari and I trudge into the student union, the fluorescent lights glaring overhead and the smell of burnt coffee assaulting our noses. I groan, looking over at Ari with a yawn. "Ah, the joys of college dining," I mutter, staring at the other students. We make our way over to the muffin display, where Henson is already waiting, his oversized glasses perched on his nose and a smug look on his face. I can practically feel the eye roll coming on as he starts babbling about the nutritional benefits of blueberries. "Interesting facts" I mutter under my breath, grabbing a chocolate chip muffin and ignoring his ramblings. As we sit down at a table, Henson launches into a diatribe about the history of muffins, completely oblivious to the fact that I'm losing my mind. I can't help but snort with laughter as he launches into a detailed analysis of the muffin's crumb structure. Suddenly, Henson turns to me, his eyes narrowing.

I swear, if this guy doesn't watch it, I might just end up breaking his arm. Kateb, the overconfident freshman, has been giving me a hard time during practice, since yesterday. He's used to being the center of attention, but he needs to learn that in college, things are different. Warren is the center and a starter, while Kateb is just a freshman who needs to earn his place on the team. But he's been challenging me for the past six minutes today, and I've had enough. He's so stubborn it's like trying to take a kid out of a kid's store. I wonder how Coach Johnson was able to put up with this guy, I would have already been arrested for murder. "I don't have to listen to you, you clearly don't know what you're doing," Kateb argues. I snap back at him, "Cry me a fucking river. You're on a college team now, so start acting like it. You're not in high school anymore, so stop acting like a spoiled brat." I shoot him a glare, feeling like we're in a staring competition for a moment.