Normally, he would never talk to the dork. Well, except to call him a dweeb or tease him or give him some kind of hard time. But that wasn't really talking to him. That was more... talking at him. Yeah.
Still, watching his girlfriend- ex-girlfriend, probably, but who cared- climbing into the other dweeb's shitty 'new car', Trent couldn't help but be struck by one thing, something which forced him to break his 'no talking to the dork' thing.
"Dude. Did he just... ditch you?" Trent asked, looking at Miles.
The blond was still stuck looking at the dust cloud, but he answered. "With... your evil jock concubine?"
"Hey, don't talk about my girl that-" Trent stopped a moment later. "You know what? Might as well."
"Hey! Hey, Trent! Your girl ran off, and now you're going to make friends with this looser? Come on, man!" Albert yelled, throwing their ball, not to Trent, but at Miles. Throwing it hard.
Trent reacted on instinct, really, stepping to catch the football. It hit his sho
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