A clash on the field

Ethan Reed was the star of the university soccer team. With sharp features, piercing green eyes, and a smirk that screamed confidence, he was the golden boy. Everyone adored him—the coach, the team, and even the rival schools. Ethan didn’t just play soccer; he dominated the game. His precision, speed, and knack for always being at the right place made him irreplaceable.

Then Caleb Westwood arrived.

Caleb transferred in during the summer, quickly making waves. With his chiseled jaw, icy blue eyes, and tousled blond hair, he was as striking as he was talented. Caleb wasn’t just good—he was brilliant. He played with an intensity that rivaled Ethan’s and a cockiness that immediately rubbed Ethan the wrong way.

From the first practice, the rivalry was set.

Ethan watched Caleb weave through defenders with an ease that made him bristle. Caleb’s passes were sharp, his shots powerful, and his footwork mesmerizing. The new guy was undeniably good, but Ethan wasn’t about to let anyone steal his spotlight.

“That’s cute,” Ethan muttered under his breath as Caleb scored a flawless goal during their first scrimmage.

“What’s that, Reed?” Caleb called out, jogging past him.

“Nothing,” Ethan replied, forcing a tight smile.

But Caleb wasn’t done. “Looked like you were struggling to keep up back there. Need some pointers?”

Ethan clenched his jaw. He wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not by someone who had just joined the team.

As practice continued, the tension between them grew. Caleb intercepted Ethan’s passes, blocked his shots, and made snide remarks whenever Ethan missed a play. Ethan, in turn, upped his game, determined to outshine Caleb at every turn.

The rest of the team noticed the brewing storm. Marcus, Ethan’s best friend and the team’s goalkeeper, tried to diffuse the tension.

“Reed, chill out,” Marcus said during a water break. “You’re acting like the guy stole your car or something.”

Ethan glared at Caleb, who was laughing with a few teammates on the sidelines. “He’s cocky.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not?”

“That’s different,” Ethan snapped.

Marcus snorted. “Sure it is.”

By the end of practice, Ethan was fuming. Caleb had managed to score three goals, each more impressive than the last, and the coach had praised him repeatedly.

“Nice work out there, Westwood,” Coach Stevens said as they huddled at the end of practice. “Reed, you might want to take a few notes.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Coach.”

Caleb smirked, his blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, Reed. You’ll catch up eventually.”

The team laughed, and Ethan’s fists clenched at his sides.

That evening, Ethan stayed behind on the field long after everyone else had left. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the grass. He practiced shot after shot, each kick fueled by frustration.

“Still trying to outdo me?”

Ethan spun around to see Caleb standing at the edge of the field, his hands in his pockets and a smug grin on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan demanded.

Caleb shrugged, strolling closer. “Figured I’d see what the golden boy does when he’s not busy being perfect.”

Ethan glared at him. “Go away, Westwood.”

“Why? Afraid I’ll see you mess up?” Caleb teased.

Ethan’s anger flared. “What’s your deal, huh? You’ve been here five minutes and act like you own the place.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, his grin fading slightly. “I don’t act like I own the place. I just don’t feel the need to kiss your ass like everyone else.”

Ethan took a step closer, his chest heaving. “Maybe you should learn some respect.”

Caleb stepped forward as well, their faces inches apart. “And maybe you should learn that you’re not the only one who’s good at this game.”

For a moment, they stared each other down, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Then Caleb smirked and stepped back.

“Good talk,” he said, turning to leave. “See you at practice, Reed.”

Ethan watched him go, his fists still clenched. Caleb Westwood was going to be a problem.

Later that night, Ethan sat in his dorm room, replaying the day’s events in his mind. He couldn’t understand why Caleb got under his skin so easily. It wasn’t just the way Caleb played or the way he challenged Ethan—it was the way Caleb didn’t back down. Most people gave Ethan the respect he felt he’d earned, but Caleb treated him like just another player.

Marcus popped his head into the room, interrupting Ethan’s thoughts. “You good?”

“Fine,” Ethan muttered.

Marcus stepped inside, crossing his arms. “You’re not fine. You’re obsessed with this Caleb thing.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Ethan said defensively.

Marcus smirked. “Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been talking about him non-stop.”

Ethan glared at him. “I just don’t like him.”

“Right,” Marcus said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because that’s totally normal behavior for someone you ‘don’t like.’”

Ethan didn’t respond, and Marcus shook his head. “Whatever, man. Just don’t let it mess with your game.”

The next day at practice, the tension between Ethan and Caleb was palpable. Every pass, every tackle, every shot was a silent battle. The rest of the team kept their distance, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

By the end of practice, even Coach Stevens looked frustrated.

“Reed, Westwood, my office. Now.”

Ethan and Caleb exchanged a glance but said nothing as they followed the coach.

“You two want to tell me what’s going on?” Coach Stevens demanded once they were inside.

Neither of them spoke, their silence thick with unspoken words.

The coach sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what your issue is, but it ends now. This team doesn’t have room for egos. Got it?”

“Yes, Coach,” they said in unison, their voices flat.

After practice, Ethan lingered on the field again, unable to shake the frustration bubbling inside him. He wasn’t used to this—feeling out of control, like he couldn’t figure someone out.

As he kicked the ball into the net, a voice called out from behind him.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Ethan turned to see Caleb leaning against the goalpost, his arms crossed.

“What do you want, Westwood?” Ethan snapped.

Caleb smirked. “Just making sure you’re not planning to burn yourself but trying to keep up with me.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Keep dreaming.”

Caleb’s smirk widened. “Good. I like a challenge.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Ethan staring after him, his emotions a tangled mess of anger, frustration, and something he didn’t want to name.

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