A Stiff Kiss Deleted Scenes: Landon (2)

Saturday, 9 March 2013 15:58 by Avery Olive

Alright, it’s time for another deleted scene. Though I admit this is more of an extended scene of what actually ended up in the book. Had it made it in, this would have been part of Chapter 2. Either way, I loved the interaction between Landon, Daniel and their teammates. Hope you Enjoy!


            “Yeah, I broke up with her. It needed to end,” I comment.
           “Who are you kidding? You guys always end up back together.”

            I raise my chin and say sternly, “Well, this time it’s different. We. Are. Done.” But Daniel’s right, we’ve been on and off for years. Sure there were the odd flings in between, but nothing substantial. We always did end up right back in each other’s arms.

            “Yeah, well, I’ll believe it when I see it. Though, if you’re serious, you mind if I... ask her out?”

            I know Daniel would be just about the last person Charity would end up with but that still doesn’t stop me from saying, “Sure, you guys would be great together. My best friend and my ex,” as my voice drips with sarcasm.

            Daniel tends to have a one track mind.

 “Really? SWEET!” He says, even pumping his fist in the air having not heard the truth in my words.

            “Alright, well I think we have a game to practise for.” I put the last of my stuff into my locker and shut it.

            Daniel, always the over eager one, hops up onto a bench, boxers hanging dangerously low on his hips. I wonder if he’s thought of becoming a plumber, you know if he doesn’t make it as a pro soccer player.

            I see it coming, but it’s too late to stop. Steven stalks up to Daniel, who’s still standing on the bench. Without hesitation he yanks down Daniel’s boxers and skirts away, fast. The locker room erupts into laughter with a few, “Pull up your damn pants,” and “No one wants to see that shit.”

            “What the f**k Steve?” Daniel says, face blushing as he struggles to grab his underwear and pull them up from around his ankles, then hops down. Two hundred and fifty some odd pounds barrel towards Steven who’s hunched over with laughter.

            I sidestep into his path, he could take me down without batting an eye, but he stops, anger in his eyes, “Save it for the field,” I say putting my hands on his chest, forcing him back.

            Daniel’s face relaxes, “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he says, then looks over my shoulder, “You better watch it Steven, not cool. So not cool bro.”

            We all know, however, Daniel’s anger is nothing; he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I wouldn’t put it past Daniel, though, to do something equally as embarrassing back to Steven. I’ve seen him lift Ryan, who weighs a heck of a lot, upside down and dunk his head into a toilet. He’s flipped guys over his shoulder and carried them around like a sack of potatoes until they are green in the face and ready to blow chunks.

            “Oh c’mon, it was just a joke,” Steven adds as he tries to control his chuckling.

            “Okay guys, let’s get out there and warm up,” I say to no one in particular, “and Daniel,” I shake my head, “put your damn uniform on, cause you did kind of ask for it.” Even I can’t help smiling.

            Most towns have football, or even hockey, but Silversprings is all about Soccer. It’s something we do well, very well. We’ve won the championship most every year; I don’t even think the other teams really care anymore. They come, get their asses beat down and call it a day. To the Rams, however, this is everything. No matter how good we are, we always strive to be better.

            We fall into form and start out with stretches. After a few minutes Coach says “Alright, suicide.”

            We all stand up and form a line, and at the blow of his whistle sprint forward, touch an imaginary line down the field and rush back. Starting out slow then pushing ourselves faster and faster, back and forth.

            “C’mon Mason move, move, pick it up,” Coach screams.

            I chance a look behind, Daniel is huffing down the way. Slowing down my pace I wait for him to catch up.

            “Hey, don’t listen to him. Just keep running, it’s almost over,” I say as I slap his back encouragingly.

            His breath is fast, face red, sweat beading and rolling down his forehead and cheeks, “I don’t--don’t under...stand... why I have,” he stops, bending over, hands on his knees, “I’m just the goalie,” he puffs out.

            “Hey buddy, we aren’t done yet, just a few more minutes.”

            “I can’t man, I’m going to throw up, seriously.”

            Daniel is the best damn goalie we have, but sometimes I can’t even believe it. In the net he’s fast, his sheer size helps too. But when it comes to physical exertion, he just can’t carry all that weight around with him and come out ahead.

            “All right, don’t worry about it.” He is worrying about it, though. He stands upright, breath steadying, his face full of disapproval. “Hey, look at me, don’t worry. You focus on blocking that ball, okay?”

            “Okay,” Daniel says and wanders over to the bench, while the rest of the team walks off the exertion from sprints. I expect coach to say something to Daniel, instead he looks at me and shakes his head. As captain, I’m probably supposed to do more, lead my team and make sure they are all in top shape. And I do, but Daniel is like a brother, I need to look out for him. I know for a fact, if he couldn’t block a goal attempt like he does, he wouldn’t be on the team. So what if he can’t run like a track and field athlete? He gets the job done, and to me, that’s all that matters.

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