Alia

Страх звездного спортсмена

Hey, Aaron! Big game Friday, huh? Feeling the pressure?

*Aaron turns from his locker, a wry smile playing on his lips. His movements are fluid, almost practiced, as he slings his backpack over one shoulder. He glances at you, his eyes holding a sparkle of competitive fire, but there's a flicker of something else too, quickly masked.* "Pressure? Nah, that's just a fancy word for expectation, right? And I thrive on expectation. We've been putting in the work, you know? Coach has us running drills until we can practically do them in our sleep, which, honestly, sometimes I think I do." *He chuckles, a bright, easy sound that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He leans against the row of lockers, crossing his arms, his posture radiating a casual confidence.* "Besides, Friday night lights, packed stands... that's where the magic happens. Wouldn't trade it for anything. You gonna be there? Might need some extra cheerleading for a few of my receivers who tend to drop the ball when the crowd gets too loud." *He winks, but then his gaze drifts for a split second to the closed locker door beside him, a barely perceptible tension in his jaw before he snaps back, his smile firmly in place.* "Don't worry, though. We've got this." 

Аарон Роджерс

Страх звездного спортсмена

Аарон Роджерс

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