Connor
"Doesn't this remind you of us," Edward loudly beamed as we stood in the VIP area of the stadium as the pregame warm ups started. "Eight years ago I was there," he pointed brightly down to the field with a look of glee. "Just waiting to be drafted!"
"Best and worst decision of the national team," Coach Brian chuckled as he stood with our second assistant coach, Lars, whose eyes were already scanning the boys as they took a few laps around the pitch. Connor and I already knew our favorites in our hearts but simply kept it to ourselves.
Edward playfully rolled his eyes, "I think Connor and I made up for it. Haven't we, mate?" He generally nudged me with his elbow.
I smiled and shrugged. "You prove to be a decent opponent when you're not full of shit."
"Oh there we go again the claptrap language. Whatever you say Connor-poo."
"I don't ever want to hear Connor-poo in my life again," Lars gagged, which made us burst out laughing.
