Tatum has been hard on me for days now. After our awkward practice the other night when we scrimmaged one-on-one, he’s all but avoided me. He’s been torturing me with suicides and running bowls, not even bothering to bring any balls or cones to practice. I feel like I’m on the fucking cross-country team.
“Get your head out of your ass and onto the field.” He jabs a finger toward the pitch.
“Get the ass out of your personality and you have a deal.” I whip around, hoping to smack him with my ponytail, and all but stomping back to the team as the ref blows the whistle to call the end of halftime.
I get into position across from Sam and she smirks at me. “Lovers quarrel?”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s just play the game.”
The whistle blows and our opponent, California Crest University has the ball. They kick off and immediately I’m on them, pressuring the bitch in the number fifteen jersey to fuck up and give me my opening to steal the ball.
Like a pansy, she passes instead of taking me one-on-one. The ball is on our half of the field and I drop back to get on defense. The girl wearing the number twenty-six gets past our midfielders and is approaching the goal—and I get pissed.
“Come on, ladies, what the hell are you doing?” I screech as the girl takes a shot. Sydney, our goalie, stops the ball and I let out a frustrated breath.
She punts it to me and I trap it and take off down the field. CCU barely has an opportunity to drop back on defense before I’m at their eighteen.
Their defenders approach me, crowding me with pressure. I drop my hips low, protecting the ball. The girl isn’t going to let up, which only gives me one option. I decide to push through her.
I drop a shoulder as I shove by, checking her and shoving her aside. She trips over her own feet and in an instant, the whistle blows and I’m forced to stop. The ref comes jogging over, taking out a little book from his chest pocket and holding up a yellow card. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
“Open your eyes, Ref, that was a clean shot,” I argue, my hands balling into fists and my ponytail swinging side to side.
“Watch it, Eleven, or you’ll upgrade to a red card.”
I bite my tongue and storm off the field when Paxton subs me out. Un-fucking-believable.
I throw my bag off the bench and grab my water bottle, squirting a large amount into my mouth. I wipe my chin as some of it dribbles down.
“Campbell, what the hell are you doing?” Tatum stands in front of me, his hands thrown in the air with aggravation.
“What you told me to, Coach. Getting physical, not being afraid to get a little aggressive. I picked up the slack since my team is blowing it.” The teammates sitting beside me on the bench snap their heads toward me and scoff. Whatever, screw them.
“I didn’t tell you to break a girl’s ankle.”
“She has two left feet, I didn’t even touch her!” I stand as I yell and the ref looks over to me glaring. I sit back down with a huff.
After a few minutes, my foot starts to tap in impatience. It gets worse when CCU scores.
“Campbell, get in there.” I listen to Paxton and sub out Brittany, taking my rightful position on the field.
When Sam gets the ball, I clench my jaw. She makes her way down the field and completely ignores me even though I’m wide open and calling for the ball. But no, she keeps pushing and ends up losing the ball when she takes a pathetic shot on the goal.
“Sam, stop trying to be a hero. You don’t have the skill for it.”
She narrows her eyes at my remark and jogs down the field to fix her mistake.
Because of her turnover, California Crest scores again. Much to my relief, Coach pulls her out of the game and moves Lindsay back up with me. There are only five minutes left in this half and the score is tied.
We kick off and I drive down the field. I get past the midfielders and Lindsay is open. I pass her the ball. Watching her drive down the field happens all too fast but somehow also in slow motion.
I have a player on my back, but I push toward the goal in case she needs an assist.
She takes a shot and my arms fly in the air as she scores. The team runs and circles around Lindsay as we celebrate.
We have a few more minutes and all we have to do is make sure our opponent doesn’t score.
When the final whistle blows, we jump and scream with euphoria. The win wasn’t pretty, but at least we pulled through. We line up and slap hands with the other team. Morgan is behind me and leans in to whisper in my ear. “We’re celebrating tonight.” She has a devious smirk on her lips and I know she plans to get hammered.
“Good game, ladies. I know what we need to work on at our next practice. I’ll see you all then.” Paxton jots down a few notes on his clipboard before walking to Tatum and showing him whatever he wrote down.
We pack up our bags, but I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to simply walk away without a lecture. I walk to the other end of the bleachers to the hot yet irritating man who called my name.
“What’s up?” I cross my arms over my chest and look up at my assistant coach.
“That was a mess out there. Be ready for training tomorrow.” He eyes me pointedly and I’m guessing he can read the room—or, well, the field.
It’s our first game and win of the season. Of course, he knows we’re going to celebrate, dry season be damned.
“Yes, sir.” I roll my eyes and back away, walking over to Morgan and Lindsay. “Where’s the party?”
Chapter Thirteen
Bria
“This is a risk, isn’t it? Having the party at our place?” The music is already turned on even though most of us are still getting ready. Voices trail up the stairs and there’s a loud bang, scaring me and causing me to jump which messes up my eyeliner. Shit. I grab a makeup remover and restart the eye I smudged.
“Is Ben coming tonight?”
“Of course.” I adjust the wing on my cat eye and lean back to admire my work.
“Is Ben staying over tonight?” She appears behind me in the mirror, wiggling her eyebrows with a knowing smirk.
A knock comes from behind us and I turn on my stool to see Lindsay and Sydney in the doorway.
“Change of plans. The baseball house is hosting the party instead,” Linds tells us.
“Why? We already have the music and booze.” Morgan whines, but I’m glad for the change of scenery. We’re less likely to be caught if we’re not home.
“So, we’ll take the booze with us. Hurry up.” Syd does a little hip shake and fluffs her short raven hair before walking away.
I walk to my closet and glance to the left, spotting the heels I planned to pair with my jeans and tank top. That idea went out the window with the change of venue. I reach to the right and grab my white converse instead, slipping my feet into them.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Morgan is dressed to the nines as if she’s ready for the Met Gala and not a frat party.
“I don’t feel like walking across campus in heels and who do I have to impress? I have a boyfriend.” I shrug even though calling Ben my boyfriend again kind of makes me want to cringe.
I’ve been avoiding him at every turn. It’s gotten worse since the practice with Tatum when we had our near-miss-whatever. I still don’t think he was going to kiss me, but there was definite tension I can’t forget about or ignore.