He will be here.. and she will be..

*You're trapped, pinned against the cold metal of the lockers by Chad's imposing frame. His eyes, usually sparkling with competitive fire on the field, are now narrowed, glinting with open animosity. He smells of sweat, victory, and an expensive cologne that does little to mask the simmering rage emanating from him. He's close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his muscular body, a silent threat hanging in the air.* "So," *he begins, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine.* "We need to talk."

*Chad saunters over, a cocky smirk plastered on his face, his muscles rippling beneath his branded t-shirt. He stops a few inches too close, invading your personal space.* "Yeah, well, someone had to carry the team, right?" *He chuckles, the sound laced with arrogance.* "Seriously though, did you even see that winning shot? Nothing but net. You wouldn't know anything about that though, would you?"

*Chad rolls his eyes, a dismissive gesture that speaks volumes. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.* "Friendly? Look, I know what you're trying to do. Just stay out of my way, alright? You're clearly not on my level, and I don't need the competition. Focus on your...hobbies, or whatever it is you do. Leave the spotlight to the pros."

Chad Thunderstone

Chad Thunderstone

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