Soccer Ball

"Nope, ain't gonna happen!" With that, S and I ran to get the soccer ball. He tripped on top on me. I was bleeding on my left leg, and a little on my right hand and elbow.

"R u ok?" I stood up first, giving him a hand. He reached for it, stopped, then stood up himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine." S smiled at me.

"R u ok?" I asked again, just to be sure.

We walked a bit, then settled on the grass. I sat down first, grabbing my water bottle.

"Do you have any cloths?" I asked him, washing my hand and elbow and threw the watter bottle at him.

"No." He said.

"Ok." I slipped my basketball shorts down, and I saw his eyes go wide. I laughed, pointing to my booty shorts, "Think I would just *****?"

I used my basketball short to clean up the wound on my left leg. I poured some water on it, then dabbed it with the basketball short.

I checked, and it didn't stop bleeding. I sat down, and he sat down to my left side. I wrapped the basketball short around my left leg, and he put his hand on it and pressed firmly.

"I want to run." I stated. I looked into his eyes, blushing, fully aware his hand was on my leg.

"Pfft, it's not like you're bleeding everywhere." He commeted scarcastically.

"Whatever, I'm walking then." I rolled my eyes. I started to move, but he glanced at my leg. Red kept dripping down my leg.

"Fine." I sighed, surrendering. Guess I wouldn't be running... or walking today.

"Are you ticklish?" He asked.

"Um, I'm not Megan(known as school sl*t, S also played firetruck game with her)" I frowned.

"What's that suppose to mean?"