by R.S. Grey
"Ah, so I see that you're still with the LA Stars, but you've kind of stepped back from the limelight a bit. My wife, yes even she's obsessed with you, said she hasn't seen you in as many tabloids lately."
"You shouldn't let her read those. They're all fake anyway," Liam joked.
"I'll be sure to pass that along, but she'd kill me if I didn't ask... are you seeing anyone right now?" To his credit, the host looked like he was a bit embarrassed that he was having to ask a question like that.
Becca and I exchanged wide-eyed glances, and she reached to turn the volume up.
"No. I'm just focusing on soccer and my new role as a coach at ULA," he nodded with a tight smile. Of course the crowd went even wilder when he declared himself single.
"Oh, I'm glad you brought that up. You know there's been a lot of talk about your role with that soccer team this week."
What? What was the host talking about? Even Liam looked a bit confused about where the interview was going.
"Kinsley Bryant is a freshman on that team, right?"
I screamed. "Did he just say my name?! Why did he just say my name?"
"That's crazy! Hold on. What did he say?" Becca asked.
Liam looked surprised but played it off well. "You stay up to date with college soccer, Jim?"
The host laughed and then winked at the camera. "Well, I do keep up to date with Sports Illustrated magazine. Have you seen their issue for next month?"
Liam adjusted his position in his seat and shook his head.
"Well, once a year they do a list of the ‘Sexiest Women in College Sports’. Are you familiar with that segment?”
Liam shook his head again, and I could tell he was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. I, on the other hand, thought I might be having a heart attack. The host laughed, trying to salvage the relaxed-interview-vibe, and then flipped to the list inside the magazine.
"Quite a few of the women on that ULA team made the list. Tara O’Connell, a senior, was listed, as well as a freshman, Becca Riley."
Becca screamed and jumped up, almost toppling her computer off my bed.
"Pause it, pause it!" I yelled.
When Becca turned back to me her eyes were wide and she was fanning her face. "What does this mean? How do they even know about us? We were only recruited a few months ago."
I shook my head. "I have no clue, but they definitely freaking said your name! Becca! If they knew you were sitting here in footie pajamas right now, you'd be number one on that list." I started cracking up, picturing her being interviewed in her onesie.
After we'd taken a few deep breaths in an effort to calm ourselves down, we pulled the laptop back into the center of the bed and pressed play.
"But you know who made one of the first spots on that list? Kinsley Bryant. In fact, she was a fan favorite on the web poll."
What the hell? How had I not heard anything about this?
"I'm not sure what you're asking me, Jim. They're all great soccer players, but I’m not there to date them. I’m there to help coach. I’ve followed Kinsley’s career for the past year. She was the top recruit in the country and I'm sure she'll be a contender for the Olympic team when they hold tryouts in a few months."
At that point I'd officially left the planet. Making a list for being pretty was all well and good, but him complimenting my soccer skills on national television made me want to do cartwheels around the neighborhood.
The host yammered on, and then they cut to a commercial so that they could bring on the next guest. I fell back on the bed with a giant grin. "I have officially died. I am now speaking to you posthumously."
Becca laughed and fell back next to me. "I swear he wants you. Seriously, I was watching him at practice and he barely takes his eyes off you."
"That's because he's helping me perfect my drills."
"Or he's imaging you doing those drills sans clothing."
“Didn’t you just hear the man? He’s not there to date us.”
“Yeah, right. We’ll see how long that lasts.”
I laughed and rolled over. "You are hallucinating, and did you forget about the guy who was waiting on our porch the other day? I'm not equipped to handle any more romance problems."
And that was the truth. If Josh and Trey had been capable of cheating, then a guy like Liam, who had women tattooing his face on their vaginas, was without a doubt a guy I couldn’t trust.
Chapter Six
I was getting ready for practice on Friday morning when Coach Davis poked her head into the locker room.
“Kinsley, Becca, and Tara— I need to see you girls in my office for a second,”
she declared before heading back into the hallway. I finished lacing up my cleats and then glanced up at Becca.
“That sounded ominous,” I said as we followed Tara out of the locker room and down to Coach Davis’ office. The door was cracked open, but after the three of us stepped inside, Coach Davis motioned for me to close it.
Uh oh.
“So, I'm sure you girls are aware of why I called you in this morning?" Coach Davis asked with an authoritative tone.
“Um, I'm assuming it’s because of the show last night?" I answered, eyeing Becca for backup. Were we in some kind of trouble? I could hear Tara’s voice in my head, “Um, it’s not our fault that we’re pretty.”
“What show?” Tara asked, and I couldn’t decide if she was actually naïve or if she just wanted the entire scenario repeated so she could revel in it all over again. My money was on the latter.
Coach Davis sighed and quickly filled her in on the list as well as Liam’s interview. Of course, she left out all the fun details… like how hot Liam had looked in all his HD glory. Sigh.
Tara acted like this was the first she’d heard of it. “Oh, wow. They listed me?! I can’t believe it. Well, I can. I was on that list last year, so I’d assumed I would be on it again—”
I wanted to stab one of Coach Davis' pencils in my eye just to get out of hearing her finish that sentence. I know that stabbing my eye wouldn’t cause hearing loss, but maybe the trauma of the situation would shut Tara up.
“It’s important to realize what it actually means for each of you,” Coach Davis cut her off, and I had to bite back a smile. “As collegiate athletes at the top soccer program in the country, you are role models for young girls everywhere. You can't help being put on those lists, but I want you to pick and choose any interviews you do in the coming months very carefully. You'll be getting a lot of publicity within the next few weeks and I need you to remember what it is you're working toward.
“I'd prefer if you each spoke with me about any interviews prior to you accepting them. I can't force you to decline, but this isn't my first rodeo and you aren't my first soccer players to make that list. You need to be careful about your image and reputation.”
My image. Did I even have any image? I felt a wave of nerves roll through me as her words sank in. Was my life going to change? Was I prepared for this?
Nope. No. No. I was not ready for the limelight.
"So I shouldn't wear my bikini to practice?" Becca asked, lightening the mood.
Coach Davis shot her an exasperated glare.
"Just keep a good head on your shoulders. I think every one of you girls has a chance of competing at the Olympic level if you play your cards right this season."
There it was again.
The Olympics.
I could practically hear a group of chubby cherubs singing behind me as I visualized the Olympic rings with me standing in the very center.
I’d never felt so close to actually accomplishing my dream. Hell, every soccer player’s dream. It was the whole reason I’d chosen ULA in the first place. Coach Davis had been the assistant coach for the Women’s Olympic team for the past three Games, so she could teach me everything I needed to know going into tryouts. However, it wasn’t until that moment, when she’d spoken the words aloud, that I actually thought this could happen
. This wasn’t just a fool’s dream anymore.
"Thank you so much, Coach. I won't lose focus," I said, clenching my fists and trying to keep my excitement under wraps.
Coach Davis nodded and waved her hand to let us know we could leave. We all hopped up, but just before I was out of the door, Coach Davis called after me.
"Kinsley, could you hold on one second?”
I spun around to look back at her, and then she added, “You can close the door."
I moved to shut it and saw Becca standing in the hall waiting for me. Her brows were raised in curiosity and I shot her a “help-me” face before closing the door so that I was alone with Coach Davis again.
Was it just me or did the baby cherubs just suddenly flee the room? I tried to gauge her mood as I sat back down, but it was impossible. Her mouth was pulled into a thin line, but her eyebrows were relaxed.
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
She sighed and then glanced up at me. "I don't think I even need to be having this conversation with you, but I'd be a fool not to cover all of my bases and make sure you're protected."
I scrunched my brows in thought. "Protected?"
"From the media. I think it'd be wise to distance yourself from Coach Wilder as much as possible. I don't need to reiterate the fact that any sort of relationship between the two of you is off-limits, but the media will do it's best to falsify proof of a relationship if you give them any reason to believe it to be true. The media is already having a field day speculating about the two of you, and it's only been one week. You don't need his reputation tarnishing yours before you even have a chance to make a name of your own. Does that make sense?"
She'd overloaded me with information, but the reminder that Liam was totally off-limits felt like a dagger to the heart. To be honest, before that moment, I’d never thought of him strictly as a mentor or coach. He would always be Liam Wilder, bad boy of soccer, and breaker-of-hearts. But that couldn’t continue. I knew he was untouchable. So why did it hurt so bad to be reminded of that fact?
"I understand,” I responded lamely, keeping my gaze on the edge of her desk. Why didn't she need to warn Becca and Tara about this as well? He could be having a relationship with any of us.
"All right. Go get ready for practice, Bryant. We have lots of work to do," she dismissed me, and I shuffled out in silence. Had she given Liam the same warning? Was he annoyed that the media was trying to pin the two of us together? He had enough negative media coverage as is and he didn’t need me adding to it.
I walked out toward the field in silence, weighing the new information in my mind. Would Liam treat me differently now? Should I act like I didn’t see the interview at all?
It turns out I shouldn’t have worried.
Liam wasn't at practice that day. He was probably flying home from New York, but I told myself I didn’t care. I focused on practice and pushed my body until I knew I was playing the best soccer that I could. It felt good to know that my end goal was so close. I just had to stay focused. I had to make sure that for the next few months I was concentrating solely on soccer.
Olympics, watch the fuck out, Becca and I… and sure, maybe Tara, are coming your way.
I got my first taste of blood-hungry reporters after practice that day. They were out in the parking lot, hovering around our cars with their clapping lenses and giant microphones. I walked toward them, while simultaneously hitting the unlock button on my car.
“Kinsley!— Kinsley Bryant!— Can we get a quick question—Becca—Becca?!” They were clamoring over one another to be heard, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before Coach Davis shooed them away. They were relentless. Even as I ignored them and kept walking to my car, their questions pierced the air, too loud and obnoxious to ignore.
They asked about Liam Wilder and his Tonight Show appearance; I answered quickly with either “yes” or “no” and then pushed past them. They didn’t give up, though, and kept pestering us as we hopped into my car and locked the doors.
They were too close for comfort and even as I started my car, they were brave enough to stand directly behind my car’s bumper. Little did they know I wasn’t above backing over nasty reporters. Spoiler: the rest of this story takes place from a jail cell.
“I can’t believe that,” Becca said from the back seat.
“When they want to talk about our soccer skills I'll be more than willing to give them an interview,” I huffed, clicking my seatbelt into place with a bit too much force.
“Agreed,” Becca said with a scowl.
As I backed up out of my spot, I turned around to see Tara still standing with the reporters. I’d forgotten about her during our trek to the car. All of the cameras were trained on her and she had a smile that practically engulfed her entire face. I think the girl had found nirvana.
…
"So do you guys want to come with me to the spa?" I asked Becca and Emily later that afternoon. We’d survived the first week of practice and now it was time to celebrate.
"Yes!" Becca yelled, jumping off the bed. I knew she'd be game.
"That'd be fun, but my boyfriend is coming into town for the weekend and I have to go get him from the airport," Emily frowned.
"Is he staying at the house?" I asked as she leaned against the doorway that separated my room from our shared bathroom.
"Yes," Emily began lightly, "if that's okay? I know it sucks to share a bathroom with a guy, but you say the word and we'll go get a hotel."
"Of course it's fine. Becca and I won't be home until late tonight and then there's that party tomorrow, so take advantage. You can have full-on kinky bathroom sex, just clean up afterward.” I managed to say most of that with a straight face.
All right, yes, I purposely crossed the line with Emily because it was just too fun making her blush at the mention of sex. I still couldn't believe that out of all of us, she was the most sexually active.
"I bet you're a freak in the sheets," Becca said with a suggestive wink.
Emily's face was now officially on fire. "Oh my god, you guys can't talk like that! His dad's a preacher and David is really shy."
Becca and I gave each other a knowing glance. "Yup, they definitely have kinky sex. Preacher-son-kinky-sex," Becca said, and we lost it for another minute.
“I bet he’s the only boy who could ever teach her,” I said with a devious smile.
Becca shot me a sly grin and then added, “yeah… I think that’s because he’s the son of a…”
“PREACHER MAN,” we both sang in harmony before cracking up.
“Guys!” Emily stomped her foot on the ground, making the entire situation ten times funnier. But eventually, I pulled myself together, stood up, and put my hands on Emily's shoulders.
"I swear to go easy on him.”
"Yeah. Yeah. See you guys later, have fun at the spa!" Emily called as we tromped down the stairs.
"I'll definitely split it with you," I promised as we pulled up in front of the fancy building.
"Don't worry about it. My mom doesn't mind if I get a massage every now and then. She knows it helps work out the knots from soccer."
"Awesome, then we can splurge on other stuff."
"Let's get Brazilians," Becca suggested with a straight face as we hopped out of the car.
"A Brazilian wax? Hell no."
"What? You don't get them?" Becca asked, clearly surprised.
Sorry, but I don’t need my hair ripped out by some rando in the back room of a sketchy waxing place.
"Nope."
"Oh my god, you're getting one! You have to try it at least once and it'll be good to get one now while it's summer. We can even go to the beach tomorrow and show them off."
I gave her a pointed stare. "How do you show off a Brazilian wax, Becca? 'Hey everyone, check out my shiny vagina'?"
Becca burst out laughing. "Okay, that sounded dumb. But seriously, I'm making you get one. If you hate it, you don't have to get another one."
I knew she’d end up gett
ing her way, so I didn’t bother fighting it. I was mildly curious about it anyway.
I knew the spa would be high-end, but when we stepped inside, I felt like we were out of place. Soft music played from hidden speakers as water trickled down the side of an intricate fountain built into one of the walls. There was no one else in the waiting room except for a receptionist stationed behind the front desk wearing a calm smile.
“How can I help you two?” she asked with a sugary voice as we crossed the room.
“Oh hi. I have a gift certificate that I’d like to use to get an hour massage and a waxing session, please.”
“What type of wax would you prefer: a Standard Bikini, Brazilian, or a French Wax?”
I coughed and swung my head over my shoulder to check if the waiting room was still empty. It felt like I was screaming about getting my anus bleached or something.
“She wants a Brazilian wax,” Becca filled in for me with a conspiratorial smile.
"So an hour massage and one waxing session," the zenned-out woman repeated from behind the counter. Her face was stoic and completely pore free. I bet she got a facial twice a day, every day. "Would you like to do the waxing session first?"
"Oh, good idea.” I wouldn't be able to enjoy the massage otherwise.
"Same for me," Becca smiled, and the woman worked us into the system.
Since we didn’t have appointments, we were told to change into robes and slippers, and then “calm our chakras” in the relaxation room until they were ready for us. I didn’t know if my chakra needed calming, but before we headed toward the room, I paused.
"Becca, go on ahead, I'll be right there,” I said, holding up my phone as if I had to make a call. She nodded and went on without me. I felt a tinge of guilt about lying to her, but I had one last thing to do before heading to change.
I turned back toward the receptionist with a warm smile.
"Could I ask you for a favor?" I asked gently.
She glanced up from her computer and mimicked my smile. "Of course."
"I was given this gift certificate a while ago and I can't remember who gave it to me. I'd like to send them a thank you card... Could you help me find out the name?"
