by Sarah Nego
The bell over the door of Cool Beans tinkled, pulling me out of my depressing memories. Vanessa stood in the open doorway, her slim, summer-tanned legs striking a pose while she artfully drew her designer sunglasses back into her perfectly styled blond hair.
Everything about Vanessa was meticulously thought out. The only time I’d ever seen her less than perfectly poised was when she played soccer. That unscripted version of her was the reason I’d fallen for her in the first place. But I’d quickly learned that version of Vanessa was never going to win out against the one ground into her for years by her equally perfectly poised parents.
She scanned the mostly empty coffee shop until her eyes landed on me, and her face lit up like a kid discovering a brand new bike under the Christmas tree. Not at all what I was expecting from the woman I’d dumped two months ago. Her red-lipped smile was a cross between wry and dazzling. That smile sent a shiver down my spine and instantly alerted my caveman instinct to run.
“Ryan,” she called out across the lofty room. “One second.” She blew me a kiss and then turned toward the counter so she could order her usual overpriced drink. It was always something with a ridiculous name like double non-fat, skinny, gluten-free, soy latte, hold the whip. I sat back and held my tongue. The sooner she got her order in, the sooner I could get this over with and get out of there.
Ten minutes after walking in the door, Vanessa finally sauntered over to where I sat. Actually more like strutted with her three-inch heels. Paired with a teeny tiny jean skirt, her long legs were on full display. I groaned silently. Those legs had been my downfall more than once.
I worked to keep my expression neutral as she slid onto the couch next to me. Vanessa had clearly put in extra effort for this meeting. Despite the Texas heat, she had straight, sleek hair without a wisp out of place and some kind of complicated eye makeup to compliment a shirt that showed more of her cleavage than I wanted to see. I was wearing whatever shirt had been on top of my still unpacked bags that morning. Uneasiness boiled in my gut.
“I’m so glad you asked me to meet you,” she said, sipping at her pretend coffee.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that she didn’t offer an explanation or apology for being so late. This was typical Vanessa behavior, and it only reinforced that I’d made the right decision back in Dallas. “You are?”
“Of course, Ryno.” She ran a manicured nail down my arm, and I cringed at the awful nickname. “I just want you to know I understand how hard it must have been for you to reach out to me and I’m willing to meet you halfway.”
“What?” I scooted a few inches away from her, my head struggling to keep up with her words. What the hell was she talking about?
“Oh, Ryan, sweetie, I knew this would happen. That’s why I want you to know that I’m not mad.”
I still didn’t understand what she was talking about, but at least she wasn’t yelling at me. “Okay, that’s good.”
“It is,” she crooned, sliding closer to me. “Of course, it hurt when you decided you needed to take a break this summer. I’m glad my father’s inner circle wasn’t there to see you make such a big mistake. My father’s friends are forgiving men, but they have to draw the line somewhere.”
I opened my mouth to respond but didn’t even know where to start. Mistake? And since when did any one of the men I met at her parents’ place draw a line at anything. It certainly wasn’t drawn at marital indiscretions or illegal drug use, both of which I witnessed in the few days I was there.
“You don’t have to say anything.” Vanessa flashed me another bright smile before sipping at her sugar milk. “Of course, there are a few things you need to understand before I can agree to reconciliation.”
“Reconciliation?” My voice cracked as my brain caught up to the conversation, and I realized that Vanessa took my coffee chat invite in entirely the wrong way. “Vanessa, you—”
“I know. I know,” she said, cutting me off before I could stop her from more misunderstanding. “I’m relieved too. Of course, I knew the minute I walked out of the club that we weren’t over yet. It was impossible, considering how perfect we are for each other. But there need to be some changes moving forward. Starting with your focus during these last two years of school.
“I did what I could for you this summer, but networking is only going to get you in the door. If you want to make it big in business, you’re going to have to really buckle down and focus. That’s why you need to move out of the Animal House with Crash and Scooter. And you need to start overloading your courses so you can graduate in December next year. Daddy says that will give you a leg up over all the graduates who aren’t available for jobs until the end of the school year. I can stay with my parents until then, but you know Daddy isn’t going to approve of us moving in together unless there’s a ring involved.” Vanessa sat back and took a breath for the first time in two minutes. She smiled coyly over the top of her coffee cup while I stared at her dumbfounded.
“I’m not moving out of my house.”
Vanessa sat up and opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off with a raised hand.
“I’m not moving. I’m not overloading my courses. And we”—I waved a hand between us so there was no way for her to misunderstand—“are not getting back together.”
“What … what do you mean by that?” Vanessa stumbled over her words but kept that stupid smile spread across her face. “The time for teasing is over, Ryno. Of course, we’re getting back together. Why else would you invite me on a coffee date?”
I scooted away from her on the couch and tried to keep my voice calm. “This isn’t a coffee date. I invited you here to talk about this ridiculous rule you put in place on the soccer team. This nonsense about the girls not being allowed to party with us anymore.”
Vanessa set her cup down and stood before thinking better of it and sitting back down. Her face twisted from perfected grace to rabid animal. “I cannot believe you, Ryan. How dare you trick me into coming here by making me think that you wanted to reconcile our relationship when you only wanted to talk about how my dedication to the soccer team is going to put a crimp on your ability to sleep with my teammates. You have some nerve.”
“Whoa there.” My voice came out louder than I wanted, but she was crossing all kinds of lines. “I never tricked anyone. I didn’t say anything about a reconciliation. Just that I wanted to talk. And I’m not trying to sleep with anyone.”
“Well, you’ve made that abundantly clear, haven’t you?” Vanessa grabbed at her purse and rooted around until she unearthed a tissue, dabbing it at her eyes.
Lord, I should have expected this. When bullying me didn’t get her what she wanted, Vanessa’s fallback tactic was tears. She could turn them on and off like a faucet, but they didn’t work on me anymore.
“I don’t understand how you can throw away two years of our lives as if they don’t mean anything to you. You said you loved me. Was that a lie, too?” Vanessa’s voice had morphed into a high-pitch whine that was drawing the attention of the few people in the coffee shop.
I had to shut this down and shut it down fast.
“Vanessa, we aren’t doing this. I’m not going to rehash our breakup with you. We’re over, and that’s it. I only wanted to talk to you about this rule so I could convince you to throw it out.”
“You expect me to throw out this rule the way you threw me out.” Vanessa wiped off the tears and stood, grabbing her coffee. I cringed at the memory of red wine being thrown in my face. “Well that’s not going to happen, Ryan VanKamp. When I commit to something, I stick to it.”
“You’re being ridiculous. You can’t possibly enforce this. What’re you going to do? Stalk every girl on the team?”
“I don’t have to.”
I didn’t doubt it. Vanessa was a master manipulator, and I had to imagine every girl on that team knew it. “What about John and Katee?”
Our defensive player had started dating Katee last year. She was a walk-on to the te
am and figured out a way to get a spot on the field and in John’s heart. The two of them were ridiculously adorable and almost inseparable.
“That will be up to Katee.”
“You can’t be serious. This is ludicrous.” My voice was too loud, so I took a deep breath and calmed my flaring anger before I spoke again. “I can’t believe you’re willing to punish your teammates because we broke up. I never thought you’d stoop so low.”
I held my breath and waited for Vanessa to start screaming. Instead she stood up straighter and took a slow sip of her coffee.
“You call it punishment. I call it saving them from dogs like you.”
She grabbed her purse, flashed me a smile that shrank my balls, and walked out the door, the little bell tinkling again to announce her exit.
I let out a slow breath and sank my head down to my knees. For some insane reason I’d hoped I could talk Vanessa out of her spite war. Instead, I most likely only made it worse.
Five
Luci
Tuesday
Morning conditioning
Afternoon weight training
Buy books
Memorize campus map
Sweat dripped down my neck as I made my way to the practice field. I’d thought Vanessa was crazy for calling an early morning practice when we didn’t have to be up, but I was wrong. We were still hours away from the worst heat of the day, and I was already burning up. The Texas heat was going to take some getting used to.
I sucked in a deep lungful of hot air and let the scent of freshly mowed grass, dirt, and citrus seep into my pores. Though the citrus was all in my head. They stopped handing out oranges at halftime back in fifth grade, but a fresh soccer field still always made me think of juicy oranges shared among teammates. I closed my eyes and smiled. No matter how stressful the rest of my life got, soccer was the lifeline that kept me sane.
The game was simple. I didn’t have to plan for the future, worry about student loans, or contemplate internship probabilities when I stood in the box and strapped on my gloves. That little eight-by-six rectangle of grass was my little world where I owned and controlled everything that happened. If only I could travel around with it and make sure the rest of my life stayed inside my control.
My stomach swirled with nerves as I crossed the field to the benches where most of my teammates stood around. I picked up the pace when a quick headcount confirmed I was the last one there. Normally I liked to be at least fifteen minutes early for everything. Any closer than that, and I started to feel panicky and late. I hated being late. But I’d purposely slowed myself down this morning and taken my time at breakfast. As the only freshman, I didn’t want to look too eager, especially for a captain’s practice. It would be a different story when official practices started next week. Then I’d be less concerned about looking too eager and more worried about making sure Coach Taylor saw me as a vital part of the team.
I rushed over to the others and dropped my bag down by the benches.
“All right, bitches, are we going to stand around and discuss Kardashian pregnancy rumors, or are we getting ready for championship games?” Vanessa, the leggy captain who led yesterday’s meeting, shouted out at the group. “Start stretching.”
I found a clear area a good distance away from Vanessa and followed the lead of several other girls doing some seated hamstring stretches. She was my captain, and that meant giving her respect, but instinct told me to give it to her with a wide berth.
“What’s up, keeper?” Sam plopped down next to me, her bushy ponytail of curly blond hair bouncing around her shoulders.
“Move it, Avery!” Vanessa shouted at the brunette standing beside me.
I tucked my head toward my knee in the hopes that would keep me out of the firing range.
“I swear.” Avery sat down and did a half-assed stretch toward her knee. “That girl is a bitch on a good day. But ever since she got dumped, it’s been a whole new level of bitchiness.”
I followed her gaze to where Vanessa was chewing out one of the players I hadn’t met yet.
Sam sighed loudly. “Would it make me a horrible person to call up VanKamp and beg him to take Vanessa back? I mean, she’s a senior. What’s one more year of getting your balls handed to you on a daily basis?”
Avery snorted. “You know Ryan isn’t my favorite person on account of the fact that he’s way better looking than a soccer player should be allowed to be.”
“What about Beckham?” I asked, glad to be able to add something to the conversation.
“Nice one, keeper,” Sam said, bumping my shoulder.
“The point is,” Avery said, pulling our thoughts away from the hottest soccer player to ever come out of the UK, “I wouldn’t wish Vanessa on anyone, including Ryan.”
Sam moved into a butterfly stretch and rolled her eyes. “I still plan to give him hell the next time I see him. Whenever that is.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Avery pulled an arm across her chest and held it in place by her elbow. “When I talked to Scooter yesterday, I got the impression Ryan was going to hear it from every guy on the soccer team.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
The three of us turned toward the shout coming from the bench. Vanessa stood, glaring down at a girl with a cute blond pixie cut with a streak of purple in the front.
“Do I sound like I’m kidding?” Vanessa’s words came out sugary sweet, but I could tell from her stance that she wasn’t messing around.
“That’s Katee Grayson, a junior. She was a walk-on last year.” Avery leaned over my shoulder so she could whisper to me without Vanessa hearing us. “I figured this was coming. She’s been dating John for almost a year now.”
“He’s on the guys’ team?” I whispered back.
Avery tapped her finger to her nose while we stared at the confrontation playing out in front of us.
“John and I aren’t some random weekend hookup.” Katee stood up, but the top of her head only reached Vanessa’s chin.
“I don’t recall making any exceptions.”
Katee stumbled back a step as if Vanessa’s words had physically pushed her.
“Your legs look weak, Grayson. Hit the hill for some jump squats.” Vanessa jerked her head to a twenty-foot incline that blocked the field on its northern side, and then she turned toward the rest of us.
“Since everyone’s just sitting there, I guess you’re all done stretching.” Vanessa pulled a whistle out of her pocket and blew it. “Suicide sprints. Now!”
The rest of the team jumped to line up on the goal line. I glanced around for Leanne, the other goalie on the team, but I wasn’t sure who she was. The pictures of the team posted on the school website showed each of the girls with their hair down and makeup on. None of us looked like that at a nine a.m. conditioning session.
“What’s the hold up, freshman?” Vanessa yelled out. “Do you know what suicides are?”
I nodded and jogged over to the goal line, the lead weight of the eggs I had at breakfast sinking in my stomach. Back in high school, the goalies never ran the sprints. Endurance laps? Sure. But nothing that required me to run all out as fast as I could for a long length of time. It wasn’t a skill that most keepers needed, and it certainly wasn’t something I was used to.
Sucking in a deep breath, I kept my head down and focused on warming up my muscles. This wasn’t high school, and if the captain said sprint, then that was what I’d do.
The second my foot touched the white line by the goal, Vanessa blew her whistle and everyone took off.
Suicide sprints were most likely created by the devil himself, designed to torture poor athletes, but specifically to humiliate and taunt goalies. Goal keepers were not exempt from the whole stay-in-shape part of being an athlete. We ran with everyone else to keep up good endurance, lifted weights to keep our muscles strong, and even worked on some drills the other players didn’t, like jumps and dives. But sprints were never part of my training.
Why would I need to do that?
I mean, sure sometimes a goalie would need to run out to confront the ball, but it wasn’t like we’d sprint halfway down the field.
Never in all my years of playing goalie had I ever run suicides. It was a good streak while it lasted.
As a unit, my teammates and I ran from the goal line to the white line at the top of the goal box. We bent down, touched a hand to the line, and sprinted back. Not the worst thing ever. Except we didn’t stop. Everyone reached down to the touch the goal line and then took off again, this time aiming for midfield. By the time my hand touched the white line running down the center of the pitch, a sharp stinging pain had developed in my side.
“Faster, you maggots,” Vanessa yelled from the sidelines where she stood with a whistle poised and ready to blow. “Katee. No one told you to stop.”
I lifted my head for a second as I sprinted back to the goal line and caught sight of Katee making her way down the hillside, jumping with her legs spread apart and landing in a deep squat. I would be sore the next day, but nothing like what Katee was going to feel.
I touched down on the goal line, falling to the back of the pack as our fastest runners pulled ahead. Heat spread up my face, and I imagined Vanessa staring at me, judging my worth as a member of the team. I dug deep and tried to go faster as I sprinted down the field toward the far goal box. My lungs cried with the burst of speed that I wasn’t used to putting out. By the time I hit the goal box, I was a good bit behind everyone else.
“Pick up the pace, freshman.”
Vanessa’s words burned in my chest as my lungs struggled to keep up with me. I would be dead last for this round of suicides, but I didn’t care. Not as long as I could finish. Pushing my head down, I ran as fast as my wobbly legs could carry me back to the goal line. The rest of the team passed me going the other way before I got there.
