by Sarah Nego
I held back a curse as both teams retreated back to their starting positions for the kickoff.
“Someone needs to shut the goal poacher down,” I mumbled more to myself than anyone in particular.
Coach Taylor gripped my shoulder. I hadn’t even realized he was standing there. “You think you can stop him, Ryder?”
Nerves settled into my belly, and I swallowed through a dry throat. Leanne was a senior, and it was clear she would be starting goalie this year. But if I could show Coach that I could handle the goal, it might help in my bid to get more playing time. “I’d like to try.”
He nodded. “Glove up.”
I raced for my goalie gloves while Coach signaled to the men’s coach for a position switch.
Leanne came jogging off the field. I waited for her to give me a dirty look since she was getting pulled, but she flashed me a bright smile instead. “Go show ‘em what you can do, freshman.”
Sprinting on to the field, I settled into my box and got ready to play, adrenaline pumping through me. It was only a scrimmage, but I had to make every second in front of the net count.
I focused on my breathing as Vanessa kicked off the ball and play started back up. The guys were better than I’d anticipated. After missing out on tournament play for so many years, I’d assumed they weren’t any good. But maybe this was going to be their year.
Vanessa moved the ball into position with her other forwards and took a nice shot, but their goalie managed to punch it down, and the guys went into offense. I chuckled as they moved into the exact same positioning as last time. If they only had this one play, then it made more sense why they never made it out of conference play.
Their right wing and center batted the ball back and forth between them as the poacher got into position, far enough back that he could take a shot, but keeping even with our defenders so he didn’t roll offsides.
I angled my body so I was facing the ball action but could still keep their man in the corner of my eye. I wanted to know the second he moved. Sure enough, when our midfielder dropped into the action, their right wing sent a rocket pass across the field, targeting their wide open poacher. I caught him shifting downfield a bit to receive the ball and knew it was now or never.
Turning to face him, and taking my eyes completely off the ball, I raced over to his position in time for the ball to hit us. Their player wasn’t expecting me to be so close, and my sudden appearance threw him off. Just long enough for me to get a foot on the ball and send it right through his legs to Lauren.
He turned to watch his lost prize and then looked back at me, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
“Not today, pretty boy.”
His face broke out into a grin. This close, I noticed the little dimple in his chin and the way his brown eyes were ringed with gold. His broad smile was a little crooked in a way that was both flawed and charming.
Cries of “Nutmeg!” rose from both benches, reminding me that this was a soccer game and not a staring contest with pretty boy.
“Oh, Ryan got nutmegged by a goalie.” One of the guys ran over and slapped the poacher on the shoulder. “A girl goalie!”
They both ran back into position, but Ryan looked over his shoulder, his gorgeous face smiling back at me.
“That’s time,” Coach yelled, calling an end to the scrimmage.
I let out a sigh of relief as the guys trudged off the field and my teammates smiled in victory.
“Way to go, freshman,” Avery said, rushing over and offering me a fist bump.
I tugged my gloves off and bumped my knuckles against hers. “Thanks. You too,” I shouted at her as she raced off to congratulate the other players.
“You’ve got some pretty impressive moves, goalie.”
I spun around to find Ryan, the guy who tried to score on me. Most guys would be ticked at getting shown up by a girl, but he was smiling, his blindingly white teeth reflecting the afternoon sunshine.
“Um … thanks.” I twisted my gloves in my hands and racked my brain for something else to say, but this guy was too … distracting.
There’d only been time for a quick look at him during the game. I was more focused on how he handled the ball and his shooting technique. But with the game over, I didn’t need to study him as a potential threat to my clear goal. I could take a few minutes to appreciate what he was working with.
His black hair was slicked back against his head with sweat, but I could tell it had some decent length to it and probably framed his tanned face perfectly. That smile was megawatt-level beautiful, and everything from the neck down was definitely working for him. Toned chest and arms that filled out his jersey perfectly led down to a trim waist and strong legs.
Crap, I shook my head a bit and dislodged all thoughts of how perfectly tall and handsome this guy was. The last thing I needed to be thinking about was a guy and definitely not a completely off-limits soccer guy.
“I’m Ryan,” he said, holding out his hand toward me.
I swallowed. This was fine. Just a guy introducing himself. Not a big deal. I set my hand in his and ignored the sizzling heat our contact sent up my arm. “I’m Luci,” I managed to squeak out. Cool, Luci, real cool. It had been too long since I’d had anything to do with a guy. Especially a hot one. Though to be fair, I wasn’t sure I’d ever met a guy quite as hot as Ryan.
“Well, Luci, looks like you have quite a lot to offer.”
He winked at me, and I about lost my ability to stand. No man should look that sexy while winking. Winking was for five-year-olds trying to keep a secret. It was adorable. Cute. But this wink was like a warm finger trailing down my spine and waking up my senses. Shit.
“What are you doing, VanKamp?”
Vanessa’s voice cut right through the little fantasy moment running through my head, and I snatched my hand away from Ryan, the distance instantly clearing my head. Oh god. VanKamp. Ryan. Connections fired in my brain as I realized exactly who I was talking to. Vanessa’s ex-boyfriend.
“Just congratulating your new goalie on her play today.” Ryan’s voice was even, but the look he gave Vanessa was cold and distant.
“Go away, Ryan.” Vanessa grabbed my elbow and tugged me away from Ryan of the sexy wink. “Wouldn’t want any of your loser to rub off.”
I caught Ryan’s mouth twist in anger before I had to whip my head around to keep from tripping as Vanessa pulled me back to the bench.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, jerking my elbow so we were face to face.
“He was telling me good game,” I stuttered out.
“Look,” Vanessa said, her face relaxing a bit. “I promise I’m not trying to be a bitch here. My job as captain it to take care of my players. You’re a freshman, so you don’t know all the history and that’s okay. All you need to know is that the guys over there”—she gestured toward the guys’ bench—“are bad news. And the ring leader of the bad news is Ryan VanKamp.”
I nodded, trying to reconcile what she was saying with Ryan’s friendly face and the tingles he’d sent coursing up my arm.
“You did good today, Luci. Stay away from guys like Ryan and you could be an All-Conference player. Okay?” Vanessa stared at me, her eyes pulled together in concern.
“Okay.”
Vanessa walked away to talk to some of the other players. I found my bag and shoved my gloves inside. Stay away from boys. No problem. Stay away from Ryan VanKamp, soccer bad boy and Vanessa’s ex-boyfriend? God help me if I didn’t.
Eight
Ryan
Friday
We hadn’t even stepped inside the TriSig house yet, and I was already regretting my decision to come to the party. Scooter and Crash had pre-gamed at the house, and both were already sporting a steady buzz. As the DD for the evening, I was as sober as a campus cop and having as much fun as one.
I’d drawn the short straw for the night, but I didn’t mind driving since it gave me a chance to show off my baby. Despite my dad owning a garage, I�
�d never been a car guy. That was, until he brought me into the shop on my fifteenth birthday and showed me my present. A 1969 Pontiac GTO that looked like someone had taken it to a monster truck rally.
It was beat to hell, which was the only reason we could afford it, but my dad swore we could make it shine. We spent a whole year rebuilding almost every part of that car, and by the time my sixteenth birthday rolled around, I was the proud owner of a bright-orange muscle car that made grown men weep with envy.
I leaned against my car door and gazed up at the house. It was massive with at least six bedrooms. At some point someone had combined a two-story duplex into a Frankenstein warehouse that housed a fraternity made up mostly of guys from the football team.
They were decent enough, but any shine the house had once held was buried under peeling paint and a constant odor of sweaty gym socks. Not exactly the place I wanted to spend my last weekend before classes started. But here I was, ready to play taxi to my drunk teammates because sometimes I was the nice guy.
“Dude, stop being such a mood killer,” Crash said, slapping my shoulder harder than he would have sober. “It’s a party, and this place has got to be crawling with fresh meat.”
Crash had been talking all afternoon about checking out all the new freshman on campus, but every time he brought it up, I kept picturing Luci. The pictures I’d taken of her at the practice last week had turned out perfect, or so I’d thought. Then I’d met her up close and realized those photographs didn’t capture the way her eyes lit on fire when she managed to pass that ball right through my legs. Or the way her face turned the lightest shade of pink when I touched her hand. Knowing those pictures were in a shoebox under my bed made me feel like a creeper, but there was no way I was getting rid of them.
“He’s right, man.” Scooter came up next to me, shouting over the sound of music pumping out of the house. “You and Vanessa are done. It’s time to move on.”
“The last thing I’m looking for is a new girlfriend,” I shouted back to him.
Crash let out a barking laugh. “Who said anything about a girlfriend? When you’re at the buffet, you don’t fill a plate up with salad. You get a little bit of prime rib and pork chops and keep sampling until you find your favorite.”
I groaned. “Crash, has anyone ever told you that you’re a first-class asshole?”
“Every day of my life, and twice on Sundays.” He smirked at me. “I’m going to go check out the dessert bar. Maybe that hot new goalie will be on the menu.”
Crash dashed into the house before I could say anything else, and Scooter followed.
Damn Crash for bringing Luci into this. I didn’t really think she’d be in there, but the reality was I didn’t know anything about her. She could be inside dancing on the coffee table in nothing but a skimpy bra. The image of a half-dressed Luci ran through my head and sent a surge of blood to a slightly lower part of my body.
Fuck.
I stomped down the front walk and pushed through the sea of people clogging the front door. I made a beeline to the main room and let out an audible sigh of relief to find the coffee table empty. Shit. What was wrong with me?
Luci was practically a stranger. I’d barely said more than a dozen words to her at the scrimmage yesterday, but I had definitely felt a zing of something when I shook her hand. Enough of whatever it was that I wanted to say at least a dozen more words to her. Maybe pick up at the part where I was flirting, badly, before Vanessa pulled Luci away.
That bitch was still messing with me, months after I’d ended things. Her graduation couldn’t come fast enough. At least I’d still have one more year at Pearson without her. But until then I had to make it through this year.
“Hey, Ryan.”
I turned away from the empty coffee table to find John with his girlfriend, Katee. Those two were one of the few couples that didn’t make me want to puke my guts out every time I saw them. Probably because Katee wasn’t constantly hanging all over John as if he was her source for oxygen. Truth was she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him when they first met last year, so their arms grazing together from time to time was kind of a miracle.
“I didn’t see you at the scrimmage yesterday,” I said to Katee.
Her smile fell a bit, and she brushed a streak of purple hair out of her face. “I’m not on the team anymore.”
“What? Why not?”
John hadn’t said a word about Katee not playing this year, but the grim-faced look he gave me made it seem like I should know exactly why she wasn’t on the team.
“Vanessa and her fucked-up rules,” John said, practically spitting the words. “She worked Katee so hard at their first practice that she got sick, and then Vanessa still expected her to break up with me.”
I let out a loud breath. “Katee.” I shook my head in disbelief that Vanessa would take it this far. “I’m so sorry, but you shouldn’t quit. You need to talk to the coach.”
“No, I’m good,” Katee said, giving me a small smile. “I love soccer, but not enough to put up with Vanessa. And it’s not like I had a scholarship. Besides, I’ve got more afternoon labs this year, so it was going to be hard making my schedule work. This way I can concentrate on classes and prepping for the MCAT.”
“Katee’s going to be a doctor,” John said, pride swelling his voice.
“Well, someone has to take care of your dumb ass.” Katee’s face lit up into a genuine smile, and she elbowed John in the ribs.
“I’ll show you an ass,” he said, pulling her into his chest.
“See you guys,” I said, walking away before I had to witness a make-out session. John and Katee weren’t over the top in their PDA, but I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone locking lips.
I pushed my way toward the kitchen, hoping to find a bottle of water. As I dodged limbs flailing to the music, I glanced around the rooms and hallways, my gut hoping I’d spot a tall brunette with a willowy neck and golden-brown eyes. I was so screwed.
Maybe Crash was right, and a random hookup was just what the doctor ordered. I needed to stop thinking about how Vanessa completely manipulated the last two years of my life. And Luci was definitely off limits. Besides, something about the way Luci held her head up and met my eyes made me think she wasn’t the type of girl interested in a quick hookup. I pegged her for more of a long-term, meet-the-parents kind of girl. But that didn’t stop my brain from thinking about her.
Perhaps a little sip of Luci the Goalie was what I needed. Enough to know what she tasted like so I could stop imagining kissing up the side of her neck and feeling her lithe body pressed against mine. She was supposed to stay away from me, but I was sick and tired of Vanessa controlling everyone’s lives. Besides, what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I cursed under my breath and turned around to watch Vanessa stumble down the stairs, her beer sloshing over the edge of her red plastic cup.
“Vanessa.”
She made it down the rest of the stairs and came to stand right in front of me, her finger pressing into my chest. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes, I heard you.” I took a step back so her nail would stop digging into me. “I’m pretty sure the whole house heard you.”
“Don’t be cute with me, VanKamp,” she said, taking a stumbling step closer to me. “I’m not buying into your charms anymore.”
I laughed. Probably not my smartest move, but I couldn’t help myself. “If you think this is me trying to charm you, then you are sorely mistaken.” I took another step backward and gently moved her hand away from me. "This is me trying very hard to have nothing to do with you.”
“Fuck you,” she shouted, letting go of any hold she might have still had on her usual prim-and-proper behavior. The crowd of people around us quieted down and circled up, ready for whatever drama-style entertainment Vanessa was getting ready to serve up. “You think you’re some gift to women, sent by the gods to woo us out of our panties. But I
’ll tell you what you are. You’re nothing but a nobody has-been that won’t get any further in life than your father’s garage.”
She stepped back and held her arms out to her sides as if she’d burned me to a cinder. I should be angry, furious. First for her comments about me and second for talking about my dad’s shop like it was something either of us should be embarrassed about. But I couldn’t muster up the anger. Instead I felt sad … for Vanessa.
“You know what.” I swallowed and focused on keeping my voice even and calm. “The very best part of not being your boyfriend is that I don’t have to stand here and listen to you anymore.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out the front door.
Nine
Luci
Tuesday
Spanish
European History
Practice
Outline history chapters 1-3
Laundry
I set my bag on the floor by my chair and pulled out a beat-up used copy of Spanish for Beginners. Being on campus these past few weeks with only soccer to deal with felt like a holding pattern of waiting for classes to start so I could get rolling with my full schedule. But since it was actually time to put my grand plan into action, I was feeling the pressure. My route to graduation all worked on paper, and according to the color-coded schedule hanging above the desk in my room, I could absolutely make this work. But I knew better than most that plans don’t always work the way they should.
Nope. I shook my head and dismissed all thoughts of home and the disaster of my last semester there. The past didn’t matter anymore. This was where I needed to be to complete a degree in graphic design. Well, not that Spanish had anything to do with that. But I had to complete my foreign language requirement, so I might as well get it out of the way early. If I stuck to the plan, I could get most of my general degree requirements out of the way my first two years and then really focus on major courses for my last two years. Maybe even fit in an internship that could get my foot in the door of a great firm. There were some top-notch places all within a reasonable distance of the school. The plan meant the first half of my college experience in the classroom would suck, but it couldn’t be worse than suicide sprints. And it would be worth it. I only had to stay focused.
