Apologies this update took so long, real life has been kicking my muse and I in the back for awhile and I haven't had as much time to devote to anything else. Hope you guys aren't too mad about that. I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed and followed so far though! You guys are too sweet c:

Enjoy!

Exactly seven minutes, twenty-eight steps, and several hallow breaths later is when Jaime begins to regret everything.

Dozens of eyes are trained on him. Why wouldn't they? The kid is being escorted by their coach and not-cheerleading-running-back. No, it wasn't enough that he'd just face-planted several times for their entertainment, no, that would just make it too easy.

Being the soccer player brought in to try to be their new kicker, now that was where the real embarrassment was.

And Jaime was walking right into it.

"You know, ese, I don't think this is a real good time for me-you know, I've never done this before-I'm not really dressed to play anything other than futbol-" he gestured down to the long blue socks and shin guards sticking out of his cleats.

The coach just waved his hand off and kept walking in stride with his players. "Oh, don't worry about that; you've already got cleats, and that's all you'll need for now."

They stopped and turned on the new recruit. His and Cassie's simultaneous smiles were not reassuring.

"So...what exactly do you want me to do?"

Coach bent down and placed a bright orange object on the ground, stepping back and motioning towards it. He held his palms out towards Cassie until a football landed between them, and grasped it tight.

"I'd like you to kick the ball off the tee," he motioned towards the orange thing, "and through the goal posts over there."

On the other side of the field stood the yellow twin poles, looking more like a large fork than any sort of goal. The lines seperating him from them looked to be the same length of a regulation soccer field, and Jaime guessed that thirty, maybe forty yards of field seperated them. He'd been scoring goals farther than that since middle school. The only obvious obstacle was the fact that the fork stood a good twelve feet higher than any soccer goal he'd ever shot at. Aiming was not going to be easy.

"Seem doable?"

Grayson's speech brought Jaime out of his thoughts. Running a hand throught his dark hair, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll try."

"You've nearly done it before," the man spoke of the drop kick that had landed Jaime in this situation in the first place, "so doing it in a nice setup like this should be easy."

Should be.

Sure, he'd seen enough futbol americano on TV to know that kicking a field goal was never the source of much fanfare; it was played off as a last resort for points when the teams' offense couldn't get the touchdown they aimed for. Instead of seven they'd get three and usually that was enough to win a game.

If any of those preconceptions applied to the high school level, Jaime wasn't sure. He'd seen one, maybe two games under the Friday night lights since his freshman year? That didn't give him any clue as to how good the team actually was.

So why is this Grayson dude acting like the fate of the world depends on joining his team?

Sighing, Jaime figured the best approach would be the same one he took to penalty kicks. A few big steps back at an angle, eying the hight and distance. Then he took a deep breath, and broke into a quick jog to the tee, barreling into the bottom of the ball with his right foot. But his throat seized a bit as soon as the pressure left his cleat; he could feel the awkwardness of the angle and position his foot had taken. He had given it plenty of power as he could see it soar high enough to split the uprights as Cassie had described.

But it was spinning all akimbo, and even Jaime could tell it wasn't supposed to look like that.

Finally, the ball's dissent slowed, though it looked a bit too far to the right of the bars to land between them. But, somehow, it was suddenly knocked out of its course, apparently by the hitting the bar itself. Like a deflected bullet the ball whipped towards the other bar and snuck behind it. The thunk of its landing on the grass echoed back to the ears of the three.

Jaime had almost forgotten he had an audience until he heard clapping.

"You did it!" Sort of, anyway. Cassie appeared at his side with another pageant-grade smile and a new ball. Then it hit him that she was standing where Coach Grayson had been. And he, was now gone.

Brown eyes flicked around the field until they landed on the sidelines. The entire football team looked present, some sitting and stretching, others mingling with each other and the few cheerleaders that had strayed from their practice taking place further down the track.

"Easy, right?"

Grayson had magically appeared beside the teens again, clutching a clipboard and a pen. Jaime gaped at Cassie for some kind of explanation only to get a shrug.

"Take a 5K, Gamma!" He commanded a group of players lounging on the edge of the bleachers. Their groans were loud and exaggerated as they peeled themselves away from a couple of cheerleaders and half-jogged down the track.

Jaime gasped. "Did he just send them on a marathon?" Cassie shushed him immediately and faced her coach like a diligent student.

The man kept his attention on his clipboard even as he still held the teens'. "You can adjust the angle or get someone to hold it if you want, get your feet wet before you run drills or anything...kick offs are a whole 'nother story; you'll need to work with the special teams squad before you try any of that-"

Jaime's head swelled with the list of unfamiliar terms and held his hands up in defeat. "Whoa, whoa, whoaa, can I just take this," he held up the football, "and get back to my soccer practice? I mean, not that I'm making any decisions about joining you guys yet, but-"

"Oh, of course. Technically, I can't even have you on the field if you haven't filed the right paperwork with the athletic director first," he pulled at the base of his neck and looked away, "but you've just saved me the trouble of trying out the entire soccer team for this. So kick a little here, some more with Carr, and we'll have a more official talk again soon. Alright?"

For the first time Jaime could agree with everything the man said. "Sure."

With a turn and a half glance back he made his way back to the soccer field, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweater as he walked. Coach Grayson only stood and looked pleased with himself, despite the harsh reflection of the afternoon sun from his dark sunglasses. Beside him, Cassie was cheerfully waving with the football tucked under her other arm. Ten, maybe twenty minutes Jaime had known her now, and she was smiling like they were the best of friends.

He was begining to wonder if she ever did anything but smile. But he didn't plan on sticking around to find out for himself either. The whole idea of football was still so insane, so loco, he didn't want to think about it for the rest of the night.

If only he had wished to be exempt from the next morning as well.

"Hey Jaime!"

He turned. Jogging up to meet him was the girl from yesterday. The not-cheerleader.

"Hey..." What was her name? Did she ever tell him? Did he even ask? "You."

She smiles again. Suddenly the last sixteen hours come rushing back to him. That same, ever-present smile. "Do you have a second to talk?" she asks.

"Uh, we're already late for class—"

"I can get you a pass from Coach Carr. Come on, it won't take long."

He doesn't even have time to squeak out an "ok" before she drags him off by the arm to the social studies building. Her hold is firm—he's sure it'll bruise later—but that becomes the least of his problems when he's led into a room with both Coach Carr and Coach Grayson.

Nobody says anything until the girl coughs and nudges Jaime in the arm, gently this time.

"Uh, hi, Coach Carr." he waves shyly.

"Morning, Jaime," the brunette man returns the gesture and motions to the men beside him. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Grayson. You might know him better as the school's football coach."

Not really.

"And I hope our up-and-coming running back didn't give you any trouble, right Cassie?" he grinned at the girl Jaime had seen so much in the past 24 hours. Cassie, right. He remembered now. The one that looked like a cheerleader, but apparently wasn't.

Cassie seemed to sense his inner discord and winked at him. Or at least he thought she did. His judgement had really taken a turn for worse recently. Any question he could've asked her dried in his throat. "Not all, Coach!" she grinned back.

"So," the soccer coach eyed him quizzically, "I hear you're thinking about playing a different version of football."

He shrugged. Carr had only let on that he understood Jaime's tardiness to the practice before, and that was it. "I guess so? I kinda got ambushed with the idea."

"There's good reason for that." Grayson clarifies. There's a wicked glint in his eye, but Jaime is hesitant to grasp what the man means.

"I know you want me to join the football team, but is it really that pressing? Don't you guys have a backup or something?"

Grayson only shakes his head. "Our kicker broke his ankle recently. We're trying to make a playoff run and, frankly, having a kicker is kinda crucial to that."

"I coulda made up for it if someone would let me take more carries..." Cassie interjected.

The football coach rolled his eyes. "You can't still be mad about that."

"My fourty time is just as fast as Conner's and right up there with Clark and Diana's! But I dont get nearly as much playing time? You know that's not right!"

The man sighs heavily and massages his temple. Cassie huffs at him and folds her shoulders up into a full pout. Jaime wants to nothing more than to fly out of the room at the moment.

"Look, Jaime," the teen's attention is grasped by the coach again, "I'm sorry this is so sudden, but we'd still like to convince you to join up with us. You probably don't recognize me, but I," he gestures to himself, "used to play here too. Pretty well. So you'd understand our desire to be just as good as coaches."

"You guys, huh?" He can believe it from the way guy's built, but he'd never heard of a Grayson. Names like Wayne and Kent were more prominent in his memory of successful alumni.

The man still shrugs. He seemed like the low-profile type of guy anyway. Who else would wear sunglasses indoors at eight in the morning?

"Well, the team isn't about making all-stars. We bring plenty of training and advice and camaraderie that apply to just about everything besides football. Going pro isn't for everybody after all."

"And," Coach Carr is quick to add, "you wouldn't have to worry about missing soccer practice. Football season is already halfway over, and soccer is technically a winter sport, so you wouldn't miss a thing."

Jaime sighs. He isn't even sure he wants to challenge their pitch anymore. "I don't know..."

"He is right about one thing."

He blinks. Cassie is at his side, no longer glaring at her coach. She reaches out to his shoulder again, far more gently, and locks eyes with him. "I'm only a freshman and never did more than pop warner before... I had the skill set to do just about any sport I wanted, but I wasn't sure which one. Until Coach here told me straight up what I needed to work on, and how I could do it. By being a running back."

Her smile was more of a smirk now, but her sky blue irises didnt appear to be lying. She looked earnest, even a little shy of her origin story, but one thing was clear; Grayson knew what he was doing. Even as he kept his head buried in his clipboard again. It would've been so much easier to trust the guy if he didn't swear those shady glasses all the time.

"How about you join us? After school today?" Grayson smirks through his plea and Carr just looks like his usual encouraging self while Cassie, once again, grins from ear to ear behind them.

It's as if the time stops and serializes the scene for all to await his decision. And then the doubt comes back and he feels as if his only opponent is in his mind, reminding him that (besides Carr) he barely knows these people. They don't seem to ask much, but he's already had to make one decision in less than twenty-four hours, and he's still not entirely sure he wants to go two-for-two.

Then again, his resolve has always been weak.