Hello, Handsome

by H, Caity

  “Dude, you think Ty would put in a good word for me with the coach if I asked him to?” Desmond asked, changing topics suddenly.

  I shrugged.

  “So, did you talk to Olivia?” Desmond asked.

  “We talked last night,” I replied, running a hand through my hair. “She and Bethany are in a lot of the same classes, which she’s excited about.”

  He chuckled. “Makes sense.” He tossed his soccer ball up, catching it again. “Just the two of you, then, last night?” he asked, his tone way too casual to actually be casual. Glancing sideways at him, I nodded slowly. “This gonna be a regular thing?”

  “I don’t know, we didn’t really talk about it,” I answered as the field came into view.

  Desmond nodded, still tossing the ball up in the air. “Well, that’s cool. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet.”

  “Pity,” I mumbled as we walked onto the field. The rest of the team was gathering there, too. “She said there was some kind of street fair thing coming to town this weekend. I’m sure she’ll call you about it.”

  “Maybe I can invite some of the guys from the team.”

  “You mean Ty?” I asked, glancing at him. Like the day before, the elites were messing around on the field while the rest of us stood at the sidelines.

  “I gotta impress him somehow. If not with my soccer skills, than maybe my connections to cute girls,” he said. I resisted the urge to hit him.

  “You’re pimping out your friends now?” I asked, dropping down to start my stretches. “I’m sure she’ll love that.”

  He chuckled, dropping his bag onto the ground. “If you’re not going to make a move I might as well take advantage of it. She’s cute, Ty’s available, and she seems to have a thing for soccer players.” If she had a type I really hoped it wasn’t soccer players. We didn’t have small egos.

  Coach walked over, clipboard in hand. “You guys sore, yet?” he asked, a grin on his face. Maybe he enjoyed that we had to do all the physical work while he just sat back and made notes about our abilities. I would’ve. Maybe I could do that if being a physical therapist didn’t work out.

  When no one really replied, he continued, “Yesterday we trained hard, today we play hard.”

  He called out names, directing us to different sides of the field. Desmond was on my team, that guy Pete, too. I saw Ty on the other side of the field, joking with some of the guys around him. Maybe he just liked messing with people.

  The scrimmage started, and I was on defense. Desmond was farther up the field, left forward. He’d raised his fist in the air when he found out his position. I was used to playing forward, too. But defense was still a key position, so I wasn’t upset. As long as I got to play I’d be happy.

  Ty came charging down the field, ball in front of him. Our side converged, racing to intercept him. But that was the thing about elites. They’d played together for years, they had strategies worked out. They knew what they were doing when a newbie tried to steal the ball.

  I charged forward, blood pumping, and wind rushing through my hair. I met him head on, but before I had the chance to take the ball he’d kicked it to one of the other elites, laughing as I groaned in frustration. The other red shirts on defense failed to stop the elites and a goal was scored.

  “Come on, bro, prove you’re supposed to be here,” Ty yelled back at me as he ran back to starting position.

  The majority of the game went like that. The elites on each side played with each other, letting the rest of us squander the practice away. Even Desmond was shooting glares at the elites who refused to acknowledge him or pass to a red shirt. He’d said a few choice words under his breath about them when I was close enough to hear.

  I stopped keeping track of score after a while since it seemed pointless. I was sure that Ty’s team was winning. As he started down field, I looked around to see who had the ball. Their patterns and plays were about to cost them if I had anything to do with it

  It was the same nearly every time one of the upperclassmen players got the ball. They would fake a few times before they’d kick it to the elite on the outside, who would then shoot and score. It was the same routine for the elites on our side of things. It worked, so I wouldn’t look down on them for doing the same thing every time. But if I could notice the pattern, rival teams could and would do the same.

  With the ball moving steadily closer, I glanced around to see where the forwards were. Ty had an open shot compared to the guy on the left, who was already closer to the player with the ball. I sprinted toward Ty, grinning when the ball flew across the field toward Ty, level with his chest. I’d guessed right that they’d go for the same play again.

  What I didn’t guess was that Ty was a secret ninja. The second he started to jump, my body still moving at high speeds toward him, I knew I’d made a mistake. His body spun, heel hitting the ball and propelling it toward the goal. But he didn’t stop there, and neither did I. I tried to skid or slow down, but even with cleats on it was impossible. So we collided. Or rather, his cleat and my face collided.

  Pain splintered across my cheek, traveling down my jaw and neck. I hit the ground, my entire face aching from the impact. Next I heard the sound of the whistle being blown, a few cuss words sliding from Ty, and a groan coming out of my own mouth.

  I started to get up, shaking my head and spitting out the blood that had gathered in my mouth. I ran my tongue around my teeth, making sure they were all still there and intact. I sighed in relief when they were all accounted for.

  Desmond pulled me up by my arms. “Geez, Lex,” he said, as if it was my fault. Like I would run toward Ty if I knew he was going to pull a ninja move and bust up my face.

  “I didn’t see you until it was too late,” Ty said, running a hand through his hair.

  There wasn’t really anyone to blame for the facial damage, but I debated pinning fault on Ty. If they weren’t so routine in their plays maybe I wouldn’t have known who they were gonna pass to. Or maybe he should’ve pulled that move a few times already so I could’ve expected something like that.

  In the end, I knew no one could really be blamed. “It’s fine,” I said, rubbing my jaw. I pulled back in pain when my fingers touched the area where he’d hit me. It was bleeding. I’d definitely be the bell of the ball for a while.

  Coach walked over, grimacing slightly when he saw my face. “Better go see the team doc, kid.”

  I heard another apology from Ty as I went, but I just waved him off. He didn’t need to apologize. Granted, it was the first time I’d ever been cleated by someone like that, but it wasn’t the first time I’d ever been cleated. It was a pretty common injury.

  Blood was dripping down my chin when I walked inside the building closest to the field. A blast of cool air hit me. I shivered at the temperature change and walked around aimlessly for a little while, searching for the team doctor. I didn’t know where they were, which was probably bad.

  After another ten minutes of wandering around the empty halls, I found the right room. The front desk was empty, a bell resting on the counter top. Another door was off to the side, probably leading to an exam room.

  I could feel the blood dangling off my chin and wiped it away with the back of my hand, wincing at the contact. I banged the bell with my clean hand and waited, hoping someone was inside the room and not out to lunch or something. If no one came, I would just help myself to a band aid. It was only a busted lip and a scratch. There wasn’t anything life or death involved.

  The other door opened and a girl walked out. She was younger than I expected, having assumed the team doctor would be thirties or forties. The girl in front of me looked like she was my age. Maybe she was the intern I’d heard about that worked with the team.

  She stopped short upon seeing me.

  I waved. “If I could get a band aid that’d be great.”

  She walked around the front desk and stopped in front of me, turning my head with her hand. It seemed that she wasn’t the kind
of doctor to bother with hellos. “You won’t even need stitches.”

  “There go my hopes of a cool scar,” I replied, face still turned away from her. She let go of my chin and I turned back to face her. She looked really familiar, but I didn’t know why.

  “And mark up that beautiful face?” she feigned a gasp, eyes going wide. “What ever would you do?” She dropped the act and turned, waving a hand to suggest I come after.

  I smirked and followed her into the other room. “I guess I would have to rely on my great personality.”

  “Good luck with that,” she mumbled, pulling on some gloves. She turned back to me. “From what I remember you don’t have a great one.”

  “So, we have met.”

  “Sit down.” She nodded her head to the chair. I complied and sat down, waiting for her to tell me where we’d met. “The people in charge of the soccer camp did get a complaint about you,” she said, glancing over at me.

  It clicked. She was the volunteer who had watched the girl while I’d gone to call their dad.

  “Is that so? Well, I didn’t get a call.”

  The girl walked over, turning my face away from her again. She wiped something cold against my face. The scratch stung. “Well, I might’ve suggested that you didn’t plan to come back. Maybe they decided to just cut their losses, tell the dad you were banned from helping again or something.”

  I raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways back at her. “You have some in with the man in charge?”

  A smirk crossed her lips quickly. “We share some DNA.” She dumped a bloodied cloth into the biohazard bin, grabbing a few things before she walked back over. “My dad is head of the committee for all things soccer, that camp included. When he heard that some idiot spouted off to a parent, it took the innocent smile of his doting daughter to stop him from calling the lawyers.”

  “I guess I owe you thanks, then,” I mused. “Thanks.”

  “As much as I would hate to inflate any soccer player’s ego, it was kind of cool that you said something. Someone needed to. It’s not the first time that guy’s been late to pick up his kids.” She frowned, lathering something cool on the cut on my cheek. “Can’t tell you how many times I wanted to yell at him. When you did and got slammed for it, I did what I could to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Gee, all this for some egotistical soccer player you don’t even know?” I wondered, smirking as a frown marred her face. “Are you my knight in shining armor?”

  “Are you a damsel in distress?” she cooed back, not looking away from her work.

  I shrugged, watching her closely as she worked. She was pretty and confident, a type I was definitely into. “I could be, if you’re in the market.”

  “Can’t say that I am,” she replied.

  She was quiet for a few minutes as she taped a bandage over my cheek. “What even happened?” she asked, eying the busted lip.

  “I got cleated,” I replied with a shrug. “It happens.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “Should’ve guessed. My family practically lives and breathes soccer. It’s a wonder I got into nursing instead of soccer.”

  “Still work at the camps, though?”

  She nodded and pulled her gloves off, grabbing new ones before she started to clean the wound on my lip. “Yeah, well. It looks good on applications.”

  “To college?” I wondered, wincing when she started to wipe something against my lip.

  “I have my degree. I’m just looking for work while I finish up my internship here at Bartlow.”

  I chuckled. “Go Leopards.” She rolled her eyes and I continued. “Does everyone go in your family go to Bartlow?”

  “Most of them,” she answered. “We’re a family of tradition.” With a sigh she stepped back. “You’re all good.” She pulled off her gloves and dumped them in the bin. “Just watch out for cleats headed toward your face in future.”

  Moving into a standing position, I stretched, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. A big white bandage covered half of my face. I frowned. “How long do I have to keep this on?”

  “At least for today. Maybe tomorrow, too,” she said. “It needs some time to heal before you pull it off and let infection in.” Two days into training and I was already injured.

  Super.

  I turned back to her. “Do I need to come back and get the bandage changed?” Seeing her again would’ve made it easier to deal with my new face injury.

  “No, I think a big college guy like you should be able to change a Band-Aid,” she said without missing a beat.

  Yep. I liked her.

  “I might’ve taken a few too many balls to the head.”

  “Can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind,” she replied, a small smile pulling at her lips.

  I glanced around the small room, watching her wash up. “So, am I only allowed to come visit when I’m injured?” I asked, stepping a few paces closer. “Cause I was thinking it might be nice to visit my knight.”

  “Geez,” she said. “Ya save a damsel once and they cling to you like they have nothing else going for them.” She dropped her hands to her hips and stared up at me, eyebrow curving up at the end. It reminded me of Honeybee. “I’m not looking for anyone at the moment, remember?”

  “Doesn’t mean you won’t be.” I laughed when she groaned and rolled her eyes. She walked out of the office and I followed her. The other room was still empty. “Why don’t you give me your number? That way if you get lonely, your clingy damsel is only a phone call away.”

  “What, like a booty call?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “College guys are all alike.”

  I shook my head. “Not like a booty call. A flirtationship. You flirt, I flirt, and maybe I take you out to dinner. See where things go–”

  “And why would I want to do that?” she asked with a sigh, like being in my presence was annoying. Maybe it was, but this was some of the first real female interaction I’d had with anyone aside from Honeybee in a while.

  As much as I liked Honeybee, she couldn’t be the only girl I ever hung out with. Besides, maybe if I had another girl in my life everyone shut up for two seconds about Honeybee and me being destiny.

  I took a pen from the counter and scribbled my number down on a piece of paper. “I don’t know. Call me and find out.” I handed her the paper and winked. She didn’t crumple the paper up, which was a good sign. “Lex, by the way.”

  She was silent for a few moments, like she was debating whether or not she wanted to tell me what her name was. Finally, she answered. “Nina.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nina,” I said, heading toward the door. “See you soon.”

  “Not unless you injure yourself again,” she grumbled under her breath as I walked away, and I had to bite back a laugh. Of course that only reminded me that I had a busted lip. Frowning, I wished I’d remembered to ask for something for the pain. I would just have to figure it out on my own. And soon.

  Honeybee and Bethany were supposed to come over later and hang out, Ryan too. Desmond didn’t know about it yet, even though we were supposed to hang out with him as well. Honeybee wanted to get the gang back together, whatever that meant.

  I walked back outside into the heat, wincing as my eyes tried to readjust to the suns brightness. That wouldn’t help my headache. The warmth, on the other hand, was almost welcome. I was kind of cold after sitting in a small air conditioned room for twenty minutes.

  Practice was almost over, but I still headed that way to make sure I didn’t miss something. They were all standing in a circle around Coach, chugging their water bottles. Like the last practice he’d ended it with another ten laps around the field. I walked up as he dismissed everyone. He turned and saw me, throwing me a thumbs up as he walked away.

  I went to get my stuff.

  Desmond was there and breathed in sharply when he saw me. “Man, Ty did a number on your face, huh? I don’t know how you’re gonna get a girlfriend with that mug.”

  “Jokes o
n you,” I said, picking my backpack off the ground and pulling it on. “I flirted with the nurse, and she’s probably going to call me.”

  Lie.

  Instead of the impressed face that I expected, Desmond almost looked taken back.

  I held back a sigh and continued. “Honeybee is coming over with Bethany and Ryan later tonight. They all want to hang out so make yourself presentable.”

  He nodded, pulling off his cleats. “I’ll hit the showers. Liv’s gonna be pissed that you got yourself banged up.”

  I shrugged. “It’s my face, not hers. She’ll live.” Of course when I heard him say it, I knew he was right. She’d be pissed. Not only that, but excited. I groaned, putting a hand against my aching forehead.

  “What?” Desmond asked with a laugh.

  “I lost the bet,” I muttered. “She’s going to dye my hair. Again.”

  Two days into college and I was getting a new hair color. I didn’t even need hazing from the soccer team. Honeybee would do a fine job of it for them.

  Eleven: #ShippingOliviex

  It was around seven when Honeybee, Bethany, and Ryan came over. We all met at Desmond’s room. I was sitting outside in the hallway texting my mom back about having lunch when the three of them traipsed up the hallway.

  “Is this how you greet your best friend?” Honeybee asked. “Head down, eyes on your screen like I don’t even exist. I’m a bit offended to be honest.”

  I shot a glance up at her. Tan legs stood in front of me, a flowery dress ending above her knees. She had her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. I hit send on the text and pulled myself up from the ground.

  “I was texting my mother, she takes precedence.” I wrapped Honeybee in a hug, shooting a nod at the two people behind her. When I let her go, I waited for her to notice the way my face looked.

  But, she didn’t.

  “Where’s Desmond?” she asked, looking around the hallway for our Italian friend. “You did tell him we were coming, right?”

  With a sigh, I stepped over and rapped a knuckle against the door to his room. He’d told me not to bother him until everyone was there, something about needing time to get ready.