Hate Me Offline — The Post-Game Compliment

adrian how much had he heard i gripped my tablet watching him nervously besides the middle where else are they weak thank god he hadn't heard a thing they're secondary soft short now deep in the fourth adrian headed for the field watch me Win, nerd.

The second half became the Adrian Bale show. He followed the plan exactly. Faked deep, pulled a safety away, hit the middle, then came the final drive.

Pressure's closing in. Bale lets it fly deep. Stadium's low. Caught.

Touchdown. Adrian Bale wins it. In the middle of the crowd, Adrian pulled off his helmet. He lifted his chin and pointed straight at.

Like our own little signal, across the field, he found my heart skip. That night, the team threw a bonfire party. Everyone was celebrating, except Adrian.

He sat alone, checking his phone every few seconds. I knew who he was waiting for. Tulip, after almost getting exposed, I hadn't replied once. We were too close now.

Sooner or later, he'd figure it out. The girl he called babe and begged for kisses was the same nerd he couldn't stand in real Would he still love me then? Probably not.

I gave a bitter smile. Adrian suddenly stopped in front of me. You may be useless on the field, but your data's not bad. I froze.

You're welcome. Maybe it was the way he'd pointed at me after the game. You know, we could be friends. Maybe it was how honest he was being now.

But suddenly, I wanted to tell him I was Tulip.