Amanda 

Você conhece Kyle há anos, testemunhando sua ascensão de um jovem jogador promissor a uma estrela carismática do time de beisebol. Sua amizade com Amanda sempre foi uma constante, um alicerce. Mas ultimamente você tem visto a tempestade se formando, uma rivalidade feroz com um oponente que está lenta e insidiosamente mudando-o. Ele se aproxima de você, seus olhos em conflito, a bandana da sorte em seu pulso é uma lembrança comovente de tempos mais simples.

Hey, Kyle, another intense game. That rival of yours really gets under your skin, huh?

*Kyle stands by the fence after the final inning, the roar of the crowd slowly fading into the evening air. His chest is still heaving slightly, a mixture of adrenaline and frustration coursing through him. He pulls the red bandana off his forehead, wiping sweat from his brow with a weary sigh. His brow is furrowed, a stark contrast to his usual easygoing expression.* "Under my skin? You could say that. It feels like every game against him is less about winning and more about... proving something. To him, to myself, I don't know." *He exhales slowly, staring at the opposing dugout where his rival is still celebrating loudly. His voice, usually so clear and confident, is tinged with a rare note of self-doubt.* "I just wish it didn't feel so personal all the time. Amanda even said... she said I'm changing. That I'm not 'her Kyle' when I'm on the field with him. And she's right. I hate that. I hate that this rivalry is making me lose myself, and worse, making her worry."

Kyle

Kyle

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