Chapter 5 Chapter 5 The Soccer Game
The school day dragged on forever, and by the time practice rolled around, I was more than ready to let off some steam on the field. First game of the season.
I sat in the locker room next to Tiana—both of us in our second year on Varsity. I slid on my shin guards, pulled up my socks, then laced up my cleats. Tiana glanced over at me.
“So, how was it breaking it off with Rodrigo? He was a senior, right?”
“It was fine. I was fine—he cried.” I laughed.
One of the seniors who knew him from JV snapped from across the room, “You’re a bitch. Rodrigo is a nice guy!”
“You said boring as fuck wrong,” I shot back.
She stood up and got in my face. I shoved her, and she stumbled over the bench and went down hard. Her face flushed red as she scrambled up and swung at me.
Her fist connected.
I didn’t budge.
I hit her back.
I’ve been boxing since I was a kid—my dad made sure of that. She dropped again.
“Stay down, bitch, before you lose teeth,” I spat.
Coach Jones stormed in seconds later.
“What is going on?” he barked.
“Nothing!” we all said at once.
“Out on the field. Now.”
He paused in front of me, eyeing my face.
“Nothing, huh? That’s going to be a nice shiner tomorrow.”
We ran out and dropped into the grass to stretch. Across the field, the men’s team was already in the bleachers. They always showed up for our games.
Frankie was there.
Of course he was.
His new girl—someone I’d known since middle school—was playing too. Funny how that worked. He’d asked her out first back then. She said no. I spent freshman year becoming his best friend instead.
He still looked at me sometimes.
I tried not to look back.
Then I heard it—Colt’s loud-ass truck pulling in. One by one, the rest followed. Matt’s Malibu. Dustin’s Lancer. Nick’s Suburban.
Even Andreas showed up.
Tish jumped out of Colt’s truck, waving like an idiot.
My eyes kept scanning.
Where is Vince?
Then I heard it—the low roar of his Benz.
My heart did something stupid in my chest.
Why do I like him so much?
Oh, right.
Because I’m not supposed to.
They all made their way toward the bleachers. Tish stayed closer to the field with Gemma and Erika. I dropped into a split stretch and glanced over.
Vince caught my eye and blew me a kiss.
Fucker.
I looked away—and caught Frankie watching him. Then his gaze shifted back to me.
Shit.
I glanced around. Coach Jones was distracted, talking to the assistant coach. I popped up and jogged over to the girls.
They tackled me in a hug, spinning me, screaming.
“Elle!” Coach yelled. “Back on the field. You’re already in trouble for fighting!”
“Yes, Coach!”
I jogged backward, showing off a little. Vince just shook his head at me.
We were sent on warm-up runs—back and forth across the field. Parents started filling the stands.
Mine weren’t there.
They never were.
Didn’t matter. As long as I did my chores and watched my brothers, they were fine.
Coach Jones called us in and ran through the game plan—then stuck me in midfield as punishment.
I usually play forward.
Midfielders run the most.
He was trying to ruin my Friday night.
The other team took the field, and the game started. The girl marking me was already getting on my nerves.
Then I got the ball.
I kicked it clean between her legs and broke past her, sprinting downfield. I had space—I was taking the shot.
“Pass the ball!” Coach yelled.
Yeah, no.
I cut around two defenders and fired. The goalie dove, but I placed it tight in the corner—no chance.
Goal.
My teammates swarmed me, jumping and celebrating, bumping into each other, laughing.
By halftime, I’d scored two more.
Coach pulled me aside. “Pass the damn ball!” he snapped, grabbing my jersey before shoving me back in.
I rolled my eyes.
I missed last year’s coach.
Next time I got possession, the same girl tripped me.
Then again.
And again.
No calls.
Fuck this.
Mia passed me the ball again. The girl came at me, aiming for my legs.
I dropped her.
Hard.
Then I passed to Tiana—who buried it in the net.
Clean.
The game kept going. Mia sent another high ball my way. The same girl came charging again.
I’d had enough.
I jumped like I was going for a header—
And drove straight into her.
She went down instantly.
So did I.
My vision blinked out for a second.
Shit.
I dropped to my knees, waiting for it to come back.
The whistle blew. The game stopped. She was still flat on the ground.
Coach and the assistant rushed out, pulling me off the field and onto the bench. They shoved water into my hand.
My vision came back in flashes. I blinked hard.
I just wanted to lie down.
“Nope,” Coach said immediately. “Stay awake. How many fingers?”
I squinted. “Two.”
“Good. Don’t fall asleep. You might have a concussion.”
He turned toward the bleachers.
“Frankie! Get over here and keep her awake.”
Great.
Frankie jogged over like he’d just won the lottery and dropped down beside me. I shifted away. He followed, draping an arm over my shoulders.
“So… did you dump me for the guy in the Benz?” he asked.
“That was like five guys ago,” I said dryly. “It was the short blond one in the Jag. Didn’t work out, obviously.”
Frankie snorted, glancing toward Andreas. “He is short as fuck.”
Then his expression changed—serious, too serious.
“Do you miss us?” he asked. “I thought we were really good together. I miss you all the time.”
“Shut up, Frankie. I know exactly what you’re missing,” I shot back with a grin.
But part of me did miss him.
He’d been my best friend before anything else. He knew everything about me. That part… stuck.
I drifted for a second, caught in the memory.
Didn’t notice him grab my chin.
Didn’t notice until his lips were on mine.
For a split second—
I kissed him back.
Then it hit me.
The noise. His teammates cheering like idiots.
Rage snapped through me.
I shoved him hard.