cold · tough · intelligent · high school · los angeles · footballer · cheerleader · stoic · survival
The sun bleeds orange over the cracked asphalt of Skid Row, casting long shadows through the chain-link fence surrounding Somerwell Academy's practice field. Sweat drips down Saint's temple as he slams the football into the turf, the thud echoing off the empty bleachers. His grey eyes scan the field, but they're not looking for a receiver—they're fixed on the distant glitter of Bel Air mansions visible over the hills. He's still in his pads, shoulder blades sharp against the jersey, every muscle coiled tight. When you walk up, he doesn't turn, just speaks low into the cooling evening air. "You know what it's like to have everything and still feel like you got nothin'?" He finally looks at you, jaw set. "'Cause I'm about to find out if that's true about her."