“I had a lot on my mind. I didn’t mean to be that late. It just happened.” She shrugs and turns the other way to work out her opposite leg.
“Alright ladies, line up. We don’t have another match for four days, which means we’re going to push the conditioning hard today.” Loud groans erupt around me.
Despite being hired as the assistant coach, Paxton has been pretty lax about letting me hold the reigns. Truth be told, I think he likes the change of pace and taking a step back.
My phone is linked up to the speakers and I pull the device out of my pocket to set it up. The team lines up and I line up beside them.
“I’m going to run with you guys. If any of you can beat me, we’ll play World Cup after this.” Everyone gets excited by the prospect. “But don’t get your hopes up.” There’s only one person on this team who even has a shot at beating me.
I turn to Paxton. “Coach, can you hit play on my phone?” He complies and once the track starts to play, the groans around me get louder.
The countdown begins and then the first beep sounds. Everyone walks to the other side of the field, saving their energy. No one ever likes the beep test, but it’s a great conditioning tool and I wanted to pull it out to see what progress the team has made since the season started.
The first few levels are a breeze, but after nine levels things start to go downhill. The goalies drop out not long after. A few others follow until there’s only a handful of us still standing.
Paxton is calling out the girls who don’t quite make it over the line in time until finally it’s me and Bria going head to head.
The team rallies, cheering for their captain to beat me. I glance at her on my left and see her labored breathing and rosy cheeks. Still, there’s a fire in her eyes, showing me she’s not going to back down.
I move closer to her as we run and talk to her when no one else can hear.
“How about a truce? One more lap and we’ll both stop.” She eyes me with skepticism, like she doesn’t trust me. The fire brightens her blue eyes and her ego wants to tell me no, but I know she’s tired.
“Does a tie mean the team wins?”
“Yes.”
“Deal.”
We finish one last level before calling it quits. I walk over to where she is, hunched over with her hands resting on her knees.
“Great job, Bri.” I turn to face the rest of the team. “This is what you should aspire to. All of you have it in you; you just need to push yourselves harder.”
“Or you need to push us all harder instead of focusing all your time and special attention on one player,” Sam retorts, placing her hands on her hips and her nose in the air.
“If you have the energy to talk back, you didn’t push yourself enough. Go run another two miles on the track.” She stomps away with a huff. If she wants to be pushed, I’ll push her.
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear. Bria is not getting special attention. She’s getting trained and worked to the bone. The sessions are grueling but I push her because I think she has what it takes to make it to the next level. If anyone wants to join us tomorrow morning, feel free. We start at five a.m. by running the cross-country trail as fast as possible. If we don’t beat our best times, we run it again. We follow up with a brief lesson on foot skills, then suicides, then a cooldown of three miles on the track. So, please, feel free to join us tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you there. Now get some water and then get out on the field.”
The team stares at me before staring at Bria who is red-faced and shoots me a death stare. I don’t think anyone will join us for training tomorrow and truth be told, I don’t want them to. I like the time I get to spend with Bria alone. I shouldn’t. I should steer clear of her, but I can’t and call me Rhett Butler because frankly, I don’t give a damn.
The girls circle up on the field and I join them as we split into groups of four to play World Cup. We have six teams, and though I wanted Bria on my team, that wouldn’t be fair.
We each choose a country and then two teams play against one another. The point is to score a single goal and the team that doesn’t score is eliminated. We cycle through teams this way until there are only two teams, or countries, left standing.
I knew it would come down to my chosen team, Spain, against Bria’s chosen team, Brazil. Bria has her three friends on her team—Morgan, Lindsay, and Sydney, while I’m stuck with a group of non-starters. Still, this line-up makes it a pretty fair match.
I watch Bria’s feet as she uses the new skills I taught her. She’s light on her feet and I’m captivated watching her work. She shoots, but the goalie stops her and throws the ball back out to the middle of the field.
“Come on, Tatum. Take the ball from me. What are you waiting for? Can’t you get it? Am I,”—she fake gasps—“better than you now?”
Her big, expressive eyes are thick with mischief as I look at her. She’s goading me, and her trash-talk game needs work. Yet, I fall for the trap and lunge for the ball like a goddamn rookie. She passes it to a teammate who shoots but luckily hits the crossbar.
This time, I get the ball.
“It’s going to be a real shame when you lose after talking shit,” I tell Bria, my voice low enough to keep anyone other than her from hearing me.
“Who says I’m going to lose?” We’re squared off and it feels like another one-on-one game between her and me.
One of the girls on my team calls for the ball, claiming she’s open, but I barely hear her and I don’t glance her way. I focus on the girl in front of me and getting the ball into the goal.
I move backwards with the ball to get a better view of the field, thinking Bria would back off her defense, but she’s smart and she follows me back.
“I’m not going to let you get a shot off from back here if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking about, Bria.”
I stare at her pointedly as I grit out the words. I’m thinking of wrapping her ponytail around my wrist, having her hide under my desk in the office and take my cock into her mouth. I’m thinking of the thin tank tops she wears, thin enough to always showcase her sports bra underneath. I’m thinking of her cheetah-print shorts and how they hug her firm, toned ass and what it would look like hugging my dick.
Every time I see her in these skimpy soccer outfits, all I can think about is our kiss and kissing her again. And doing more than kissing her.
But I’m in the middle of the field, wondering what it would be like to fuck her. And I’m distracted. And she manages to steal the ball away from me.
She bolts back down the field and around my other teammates and I know this is it. It’s game over.
She shoots and scores, the ball soaring into the top left corner of the goal. She runs to her friends, cheering. I watch like a fucking creep.
While she’s mid-hug with one of the girls, she meets my eyes once more. Her brows are furrowed as she stares at me. She has no idea how bad I want her and it has to stay that way.
I start to clean up all the supplies as the girls get drinks and cool down. Practice is over and in a few minutes I’ll be alone with my thoughts. Though I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.