I've Seen Better {RJ}

[MAIA BOLTON]

Mm-mm. Nope. Nuh uh. Ugh. As if. All of these expressions registered on Maia's face, and then some. It seemed to have startled some of the boys when Maia appeared in the bleachers. She wasn't entirely alone sitting on the metal seats, but she was the only one in the first row, center, watching carefully. One long, naturally tanned leg crossed over the other, her arms folded in her lap. Hair fell like silk around her face, smoothed out for the day instead of her regular curls. It threw off some of the boys that Maia was in the front row, watching with almost more severity than the coach--instead of giggling and twisting her hair in her fingertips.

Each time the ball was passed to the side, her brows raised slightly and an almost smug expression came over her face. When the ball was stolen, her nose crinkled. It didn't matter which side that did it, but snickers and amusement spilled from the girl. Her heel thumped against her leg idly, and when a particular boy completely missed the ball because he was too busy staring at her with furrowed brows--Maia erupted into laughter. Laughter that almost made her topple right off her seat, but luckily her hands grasped the metal edge to keep her from teetering over.

Once she had collected herself, she rested one elbow on her knee, and put her chin on her hands, mocking the furrowed brow of the handsome boy. The coach had glanced back at her--she was watching him too. Managing to bat her long eyelashes at the coach every time her looked her way. When he turned around with a shake of his head--Maia's facial mockery continued. To be fair--she wasn't actually doing it entirely on purpose. The boys were just funny. Some of them seemed to take too much pride in looking cool for the rest of the bimbos scattered in the bleachers. Or to impress the coach, for whatever reason. Maia had caught eyes looking to him more than once. Perhaps there was a game coming up, or maybe there were a few tryouts in the scrimmage?

Either way, it was providing a rather wonderful source of entertainment for the otherwise completely bored Maia. It's not like she had come out here, planning to mock the boys--hoping that Freddie was in the crowd. He wasn't--she checked. However, it seemed to be lost on this...sweaty young men the meaning of the sport. It wasn't a peacock show for Christ's sake. It was about diving for that ball, trying to scrub grass stains out of your clothes. Having skinned elbows, and dirty knees. Spitting out chunks of grass, and kicking the ball until it made that thick, metallic "thump" when a foot slammed into it. It was about watching the goalie try and grab for the ball, and watch it sail over their hands, or right past them into the net silently. Not about prancing around and pretending to care.

All in all, Maia found the show a tad offensive. Which is way her pretty face was twisting into apparent expressions of disgust and amusement. She shook her head, her shimmering hair falling around her face which she swept away with a hand, just as the whistle blew. The coach turned with the boys, as they yanked off their jersey's, more than likely heading for the showers. Maia stood up, and slung her purse onto her shoulder, and started to move down the steps of the bleachers, her heels ringing loudly against the ridged metal steps. All but one of the boys was going to the gym--the one with the furrowed brow.

Actually--he was looking right at her. Even with the sun pressing against her bare shoulders, she felt a sudden chill under his stare. One brow raised up at him, almost daring, while her chin tipped upwards, turning her nose up at him. Maia remained still on the last step, one delicate hand resting on the bent metal handrail. Her eyes narrowed in the slightest, before her slingback beige heels touched the grass just below the bleachers. She crossed her arms beneath her chest, still holding her chin up and eyebrow raised. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

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Tags: Becket / RJ
Notes: Lemme know if I should fix anything. D:
Outfit: Click meh.
Words: 732

[RJ TEACH]

Sweating like a hog, RJ sprinted down the field after the ball. The coach had been pissed before the scrimmage, rightfully so after the team's performance in the last game. They'd sucked. There was no other way to put it. Totally blew it on the game against their rivals at the fucking Wilde School for Boys on the other side of town. It was a disgrace and the coach was furious with them all. This scrimmage was their punishment. Well, it determined who would be punished anyway. The string that won would get to play in the next game. The string that didn't would sit it the fuck out on the bench.

Freddie (naturally) had decided that today would be a good day to skip practice. To be fair, it was because he was throwing up every ten minutes back in their dorm, claiming that he'd caught gonorrhea from some chick that had given him a BJ the night before. RJ had left his friend moaning and groaning in their room about the dangers of unprotected sex while snickering at the fact that Freddie would jump to blame this girl who may or may not exist rather than the shady restaurants with disgusting meat that he usually took his victims/dates.

The fact that Freddie couldn't play that day however meant that everything meant a hell of a lot more. This wasn't just RJ playing to make sure he kept his position on the first string. This was RJ playing to assert his dominance. Freddie was already out of the next game. If RJ's team one this scrimmage it would mean that he could go on to do something without Freddie for once. Show that he could shine just as bright without Freddie there to one-up him.

The scrimmage had gone pretty well in the beginning. It had all seemed to be going according to plan. Then everything changed once RJ noticed that bitch in the front row. To be fair, she was perfectly lovely and seemed to be actually enjoying the game, which was new for a girl. Usually they were just there being snotty little brats, sitting in the back and giggling to each other the whole game and generally not giving a fuck. RJ had often wished that they'd bother to pay as much attention as this girl. Now that he got it, however, it was creepy as hell.

He felt like she was judging him. He wanted her to sit there and talk with a friend or something. Text! Do whatever! Just don't STARE like a fucking serial killer! The stare made everything worse. He was sre that it was HER fault somehow when he went to kick the ball, was concentrating INCREDIBLY hard, and then out of the blue he looked up and just caught her staring at him. JUDGING.

He went to kick the ball and felt only air. Then the bitch laughed and everything was just ten times worse.

The game went downhill from there. Dragging on and on, until eventually RJ's team lost. Pitifully.

To be fair, he figured he could spin this some way. He could tell Freddie that he'd lost on purpose. he swung the game so he wouldn't have to play without his best buddy. In the end he was sure that Freddie would call him a pussy for losing anyway and nothing would be solved, but that seemed like the best way to cushion the blow.

He was gonna head back to the locker room and shower up before slumping back to his room when he saw her. That bitch, still just hanging around. Jesus, it was all her fault! What the hell was wrong with her?

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Yeah, uh-huh, I could've said the same to you all game, missy." It was a bit rough and totally uncalled for, but RJ was pissed and had no one to take it out on but this skank. He wasn't going to give her the pleasure of walking off unscathed. "Seriously, it was weird as fuck. You don't seem like the type to be into Soccer, either. Isn't there a sale at Hollister you should be hitting up?"

[MAIA BOLTON]

"Actually, it's a soccer game. It's kinda meant to be watched, right? However, this isn't a fashion show, so it doesn't exactly work in your favor." She gestured with her index finger between herself and RJ. But the next onslaught of words stopped her banter, and caused her to narrow her eyes a bit. Smarmy retort about the sale? Sure...but she was gonna throw her punch just a little bit lower. "Sorry, I know. It was rude to stare wasn't it?" Her entire demeanor changed. Her hands slapped her thighs for a moment, and she turned slightly, letting out an embarassed laugh. "I'm such a weirdo, but. It's just so hard to take my eyes off of sloppy footwork."

Only one boy in her life had made her cry, so if RJ was looking to upset her into tears or make her wander off with her tail between her legs--he was barking up the wrong tree. On her toes, she shifted so her heels wouldn't sink her into the ground while letting that lighthearted smile rest on her lips. "And you totally missed the ball, you're supposed to keep your eyes..." She tapped the corner of her large brown eyes pointedly, "On the ball. You're lucky that game didn't matter, or you'd be taking a walk of shame hardcore." Her eyebrows shot up for a moment, before looking RJ up and down with the same nearly judgemental expression she had given to him and the team when she had been watching.

"Maybe you should spend a little more time getting your head in the game, a little less time oogling the girls, right?" Her shoulders shrugged, before looking backwards towards the bleaches. The few scattered faces were either looking at the retreating boys, or in their own bubble of talking and laughter. Maia was not about to touch on the subject of him questioning her knowledge of soccer. He didn't need to know that she saw every mistake, every trip, every split second of hesitation when two players ran at each other. Maybe it was a bit mean to pick on this poor boy for losing quite so terribly. But Maia didn't have her regular punching bag, and in her own mind--she wasn't doing any harm. Just a friendly critique, that's all. From one athlete to the other. Pfft. Right.

Her gaze wandered away from the boy, glancing at the coach who was in the distance with the rest of the team. "Maybe you should get a better coach, too. Someone who won't teach you guys to run like ducks." Her head snapped back in a flurry of smooth hair, before her hand extended out towards RJ. Her other hand adjusted the purse on her shoulder, "Maia. It's a ple--...it's nice to--..." Her lips scrunched to the side, and her nose crinkled again. Okay--now she was just baiting him. But he was already riled up, and it was always good fun to poke at someone who already had their shorts in a twist. Old habits die hard, and Maia Bolton was absolutely no exception. "What's your name?" She blinked long, thick lashes at RJ while she kept her hand out.

Maia had absolutely no way of knowing that the reason for the day's scrimmage was to sort out that horrible defeat at their last game. A game that Maia had gone to, and one that in the quiet of the crowd she had whistled very loudly and made one of the wonderfully blue-eyed players trip over the ball, costing them a goal. Of course she hadn't caused the game to go down, she was only one girl. It took a whole fleet of cruddy players to lose quite that badly. But it had still been fun to watch. The girl's soccer was a little more boring. A little less brutal. Softer somehow. In all honestly, the soccer games would be much more fun if they would just integrate the teams. Of course, no one listened to her ideas. Idiots.

"Hopefully your team captains weren't here to see that. God, can you imagine how embarassing that might be?" Both brows lifted once more as a wide, open-mouthed smile took over her mouth. "Any captain worth their shin-guards would just bury their head into the sand until the season's over. There is just no fixing that disaster." Suddenly, she clenched her eyes shut, and peeked one open. That one peeked open eye had a mischevious glimmer to it. Not as innocent as it looked by far. It didn't help that her puckered lips gave way to the hint of a new smile threatening to break out. "I'm sorry, am I being rude again? You're on the team, I should have a little more tact. Unlike your team." That last bit was whispered under her breath, her lips barely moving. Her eyes danced up towards the sky, slowly, little by little making their way back to RJ to watch for the changes in expression. Absolutely princeless.

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Tags: Becket / RJ
Notes: Oh, dear. RJ's got his hands full.
Outfit: Click meh.
Words: 875