Chapter One
Bria
“Ladies, bring it in,” Coach Paxton calls from the sideline and the team jogs into a semi-circle around him. I take point in the center, taking the opportunity to use this break to stretch my aching quads.
“This year the University is hosting a guest coach. He’ll act as my assistant coach, training you and focusing on your weak points and how he can make them stronger. I think you’ll recognize him as the top scorer and star forward for the LA Elite.”
Tatum Trevino jogs out onto the field as if on cue. When he stops to shake Coach’s hand, I notice he’s wearing one of his practice jerseys with his name and number twenty-two on the back.
“He’s the top scorer all right. With chicks. Have you seen him all over the internet? He gets laid more than an entire frat house combined.”
“Who cares? He’s hot. I’d let him do whatever he wants to me.”
I scoff and move away from my teammates who clearly have no self-respect. Whispers fill our half-circle as all my friends start to gossip and obsess over this guy. The only thing I care about is his soccer skills, not his bedroom skills.
He is hot, if you’re into dark, luscious hair, caramel brown eyes, rugged scruff, a full sleeve of tattoos down one arm, and a tall, perfectly built body I’ve seen grace the pages of several charity calendars.
But his ego could rival Kanye West’s. Talk about a major turn off.
He has the rest of my team bewitched already and I can’t help but roll my eyes. As if they need any more distractions.
“Ladies,” Coach is beaming, proud of acquiring the star player for our tiny college club, “split into two teams. We’ll have a small scrimmage to help Coach Trevino assess your talents and target your weaknesses.”
“Hey, guys. I’m excited to be here with you all this season and hopefully we’ll get all the way to the championships.” His deep, rich voice has every girl around me all but moaning.
“Why aren’t you playing with your team?” The words burst out of my mouth before I have a chance to filter them.
He clears his throat and raises his brows at me. “Hip flexor injury. I’m out for the season and thought I’d put myself to better use than sitting on a bench.”
“I wonder how he got injured.” The innuendo is clear.
“Isn’t it normal policy to have to sit on the bench though? Even with an injury?” I push and our new coach looks uncomfortable. Lucky for him, Paxton steps in.
“Ladies, I’ve heard enough. Those of you on my left, put on the blue pinnies from the bag. On my right, take your usual spots on the field.
I jog to the field, grateful I don’t have to wear a stinky pinny. On the field, I stand at the halfway line, waiting to determine if we’re starting with the ball or if the blue team is.
Coach rolls me the ball and I take it to the center of the field with the other forward on my team, one of my best friends, Lindsay. The whistle blows and she taps the ball to me and I’m off.
I race down the field, dodging the players whose goal is to stop me. I take a shot, but one of our goalies, Sydney, stops the ball. She punts it down the field and I race the other way to get on defense.
I’m hovering around midfield, waiting for someone to get me the ball. My coach is behind me with our new assistant hotshot.
“Number eleven is Bria Campbell. She’s our captain and star forward.”
My chest puffs with pride overhearing my coach brag about me.
“The tiny one with the blonde ponytail? Does she even have any fight in her?”
I sprint away as the ball makes its way up the field, which means I can’t hear the rest of what Coach Trevino says about me. He wants to see if I can fight? I’ll show him a fight.
“Kelli, ball!” I call toward one of my midfielders once I get an opening. I push my way through the defenders, shoulder checking whoever gets in my way until I’m one-on-one with the goalie. I shoot and I score, and my team rallies around me. How’s that for some fight?
We reset at midfield, but before we start I’m called off the field, I bet for some praise.
“Campbell,” our new assistant coach calls my name and my teammates turn to watch. “You need to watch yourself. Some of those hits would’ve gotten you carded.”
“They were totally clean.” This guy can’t be serious. “What’s your problem with me?”
“I don’t have a problem with you. I don’t even know you.” He’s amused by my attitude. I guess he’s realizing I have more fire in me than he thought.
“Get back on the field.” Coach barks and I run to my spot.
We scrimmage a while longer and my team wins three-nothing. I took a lot of my anger out on my teammates and I think a few of them are miffed at me.
“Ladies, great work. Go stretch and head home. I’ll see you guys at practice tomorrow.” I lead the team in a cool down and some stretches, working out my aching muscles.
Although it’s called a cool down, my temper has not followed suit. It hasn’t helped seeing all of my teammates ogle our new assistant coach and making dirty comments not-so-under their breaths. After five minutes of it, I can’t take it anymore and make my way off the field. I’ll take an ice bath if I have to.
The rest of the team follows as I head into the locker room to grab our things. We all live in the soccer house right off campus and most of us carpool together. My roommate, Morgan, drove me and two other girls this morning in her SUV. The moment I spot her, I beeline for her and urge her to hurry up. I want to get the hell out of here and into a hot shower before everyone else gets home.
As we’re walking down the hall, we pass Coach’s office where Paxton is talking to our new assistant. I roll my eyes as we walk by, but I don’t get too far.
“Bria, can you come in here for a minute?” Coach calls from behind his desk and the girls who are around us stop dead in their tracks. They look at me with wide eyes, half of them full of envy for getting to be in close quarters with Tatum. Any one of them could happily take my place.
I sit down across from Coach and throw my bag on the chair beside me. Maybe he’s about to tell me he’s reconsidered and this new guy isn’t a good fit for our team and he wants me to break it to the rest of the girls. I can only hope.
Tatum shuts the door after I sit down, which puts me on edge. What the hell is all of this about?
“I’ve been told you’re the star of the team. The captain and top goal-scorer.” Why is the assistant running this meeting? I look at Coach, but he’s looking at Trevino.
I lift my chin as I answer. “Everything you’ve heard is true.”
“Maybe so, but I think we could make you better.”
“Excuse me?”
“Bria, hear him out,” Coach Paxton reassures me, but I only see him as a traitor now. Though reluctant, I turn my attention back to Tatum.
“We think it would be a good idea for me to work with you one-on-one before or after practices to really hone your skills.”
“My skills are just fine how they are.”
“Is that all you want to be? ‘Just fine?’ You can do better than fine and I want to help you get there.”
I grit my teeth as the questions come out. “What would this extra training entail?”