20

 

 

 

"Eww, Sydney. What the heck? You look way too happy for this."

Tanya tosses her backpack to the floor and slides into the plastic chair on my left.

The conference room where we hold weekly team meetings is slowly filling up with the soccer girls, chatter and laughter echoing around the small space.

"But seriously. No one likes going over logistical stuff—especially you." Tanya squints at me. "What's with the face?"

"Face?" I raise a brow in innocence. "What face?"

"The face!" She lifts her hands, gesturing wildly around her head for emphasis. "That floating in the clouds expression you're sporting. Explain yourself, missy."

"It's nothing."

"It's something," she insists.

Damn Tanya and her perceptive eye.

It is something.

And, try as I might, I can't get rid of the evidence.

My dopey, dazed grin has been here for a full week and counting.

It's practically a permanent facial feature at this point.

"No specific reason," I offer with a shrug. "I'm just in a good mood."

I casually pick at a stray thread on my sweatpants as she crosses her arms and stares me down.

Welp...she's not buying it.

Time to quell her intrigue with a better excuse.

"It's probably the weather. I love when it rains."

"You're smiling like that because of the gloomy weather?" Mariana's flowery voice comes from the row in front of us. She's twisted around in her seat, skeptical frown on full display. "No way, Sydney!"

Tanya nods. "It's gotta be more than that."

"Oh, I know!" Mari suddenly squeals. "Is it a boy?"

Ding ding ding—we have a winner!

I am officially a victim of Cupid's arrow.

The chubby little cherub struck me straight in the heart and I'm totally smitten.

These past few weeks with Cameron have been amazing.

Let me reiterate that.

Uh. May. Zing!

I like him.

I like him so freaking much.

"It is a guy." Tanya interrupts my thoughts with her confident statement. "Holy crap. Sydney's lovestruck."

"We need the tea!" Mariana exclaims, putting her new slang to the test. "Who is it?"

Before I can tell them that I actually can't tell them, Coach Addy comes hustling through the doors.

"Alright, ladies. Settle down and have a seat." She takes her usual spot at the head of the classroom and flips on the projector. "Lots to go over this morning. Lots to discuss for the rest of the semester. Upcoming playoffs, routine drug tests, travel itinerary for this weekend's away game..."

The snooze-fest begins, all of us getting comfy for the long morning ahead.

Although these meetings contain important information, the only thing they seem to accomplish is exacerbating my restless leg syndrome.

I get antsy as hell during these things.

Because I don't want to talk about uniforms or buses or if we're playing on turf or grass...

I just want to play.

I just want to win.

After a brain-numbing amount of logistics, Coach puts on film from our last game.

This part I actually do like.

Stretching a little taller in my seat, I watch the grainy clips and analyze our performance.

My evaluation?

A big fat A+.

Everyone perks up as we relive the complete ass-whooping we handed out last match.

Our captain Nina's goal is shown first—a free kick from 30 yards out. A handful of girls let out a whistle of appreciation at the picture-perfect score. Nina grins as she pretends to brush some dirt from her shoulder.

My back-to-back goals are up next, each one met with a plethora of congratulatory words. That persistent smile on my face gets even bigger, my cheeks aching in response.

And when video of Mariana schooling the sweeper and kicking the ball in the net for her first-ever collegiate goal comes on, I let out a loud shout.

"'Atta girl, Mari!"

Reaching forward, I squeeze her shoulders as the whole room starts clapping in celebration.

Suddenly, the applause is drowned out by a boisterous sobbing sound.

There's a collective rustling as everyone turns towards the culprit. We all know who's responsible for the whimpering noise...

Sappy Anna Anderson is at it again.

"Ms. Anderson." Coach heaves an impatient sigh at the familiar sight. "Care to elaborate on the tears? What's got the waterworks going today?"

"I'm sorry, Coach Addy." Anna apologizes, dabbing her wet eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "I was just thinking about how much I love soccer. I truly do. What a beautiful game. And seeing Mariana score her first goal? It's—sniffle—It's like she's given birth to her first child!"

She fans her face with both hands, chin quivering as she tries to hold in her overpowering emotions.

"Well, okay then. Interesting comparison." With a slight shake of her head, Coach grabs the box of tissues from her desk and shot-puts it to Anna. "Moving on..."

 

Half an hour later, the meeting finally adjourns.

I'm heading out of the room, pondering whether or not to hit the gym before my History lecture, when Coach addresses me.

"Steel."

I turn around and she curls a finger.

"Let's chat for a moment. Have a seat."

I plop down in the rolling chair, scooting away from the trash can that's filled to the brim with used Kleenex. She opens up a team binder, the one containing individual player stats and information.

"What's up, Coach?"

"I wanted to touch base with you," she says as she flips through the laminated pages. "Let's talk about where you stand and what your future on this team might be. A mid-season assessment, if you will."

"Alright."

Gulp.

My heart hammers in my chest as she comes to a page with my soccer headshot at the top. Her pupils skim the text for a minute or two. After some hums and indecipherable facial expressions, she meets my gaze and starts talking.

"You were struggling quite a bit in pre-season. Not getting the ball in the net when necessary, not finishing your breakaways the way I would expect." She leans back in her chair, nylon material from her track suit crinkling with the movement. "You weren't the superstar player from your high school career. There was some sort of disconnect."

"I know," I mumble, disappointment laced within my words. "I wasn't my best self. Not even close."

"I agree. However..." Her tone suddenly changes. "Your play has improved immensely. Whatever hurdle was in your way, you managed to get over it."

A whoosh of relief flashes through me as she continues.

"I don't say this often, Steel, and I don't say it lightly, but it's well-deserved. I'm impressed with you. Extremely impressed."

"Wow." My eyebrows shoot up my forehead at her uncharacteristic compliment. "You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that."

It's true.

I'm like a confetti cannon about to burst over here.

"Thank you, Coach."

Her lips twitch at the corners, her brown eyes seem to sparkle a tad, and then something crazy happens.

Serious and stoic Coach Addy actually smiles at me.

A legit big-screen-worthy smile.

"Oh my God. You have teeth!" I blurt out. "And they're pretty ones, too! So white and shiny."

Said choppers go into hiding at my creepy exclamation. Her typical frown is back in place within a millisecond.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, nothing." I quickly reel in my inner weirdo and hoist my backup up. "Anything else you need from me, Coach?"

She shakes her head. "Just keep up the good work."

"Will do." I stand, little flurries of excitement rushing through me. "See you tonight at practice."

"And Steel? Don't get a big head over this little chat," Coach warns. "Don't read too much into it, either. There's still a lot of soccer left to play. You've got more to prove."

I give a nod of confirmation. "Understood."

But as I turn to leave, the unthinkable happens again, and how the hell am I not supposed to read too much into this?!

Because her wide, toothy grin can only mean one thing...

I've got this scholarship in the bag.