by Lilah Grey
She’d dreamed of joining the Blazers since she was a kid, and I’d slashed that dream into pieces in a few seconds.
I sat up in my shitty bed, leaned against my shitty headboard, and let out a sigh in my not-so-dark but very shitty apartment. My mind kicked into fifth gear; sleep wasn’t on the table tonight. I pulled out my phone: 3:23 a.m.
I went through my messages, found Corinne’s name, and considered apologizing right now instead of waiting until practice. Thankfully, I stopped myself; a phone call at this hour wouldn’t exactly win her over. Lack of sleep mixed with regret is a cocktail for poor decisions…
Give it a few hours. I’d make things right again. Even if her dream of playing for the Blazers wasn’t possible right now, there was still one dream she could still work for: the Women’s Pro League. I was going to do everything in my power to help her get drafted. Corinne had been through a lot—losing her dad, dealing with her unsupportive mother, recovering from her torn ACL. I wasn’t going to add myself to that list of setbacks and obstacles.
After a few more restless hours, I forced myself out of bed. I wasn’t going to sleep, so I might as well work. My body would revolt—it had been weeks since I’d actually worked out—but I had to start moving again.
I was done moping around.
So this was what 5:30 a.m. looked like.
The sky was tinged with pink hues. Birds twittered on the telephone lines overhead as I walked down the empty road toward the practice field. A lone cat trotted across the street not far in front of me carrying a limp mouse in its mouth.
I guess I’m not the only one getting an early start.
It was only a ten minute walk from my apartment to the field, and as I approached, I noticed another person on the opposite end, sprinting back and forth between the goal line and the end of the box. They were too far away for me to make out their features, but as I watched their movements, a sense of familiarity tugged at me.
I readjusted the shoulder strap of my bag and walked over. They stopped sprinting as they noticed me approaching. It was Corinne. Her elbows splayed outward and her hands interlocked behind her head as she tried to catch her breath, a confused look on her face.
“I figured I’d get an early workout in,” I said with a half-smile. “Looks like you’re doing the same.”
She stood still, the rise and fall of her chest beginning to slow. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and her hair was matted under a white headband.
“You didn’t drive.” It was less of a question than Corinne thinking out loud.
“Yeah. I just rented a place a few minutes from here.” I nodded in the general direction of my apartment. “I don’t want to interrupt your workout, but I wanted to apologize for what happened. During the meeting.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to apologize.” Her body language offered a different version.
Nervous energy radiated from her as I stepped closer. “It was rude of me to say what I did. The Blazers are a great team, and I think you’re more than qualified to play for them. But with their new additions, I’d hate to see your talent wasted on the bench. I think you’d be a better fit with the Sirens or the Tempest.”
She searched my face, and after a few moments, she said, “Thanks for that.”
“I mean it, Cori. I know you’re probably disappointed about the Blazers, but you have a long career ahead of you. Retirements, cuts, and trades happen all the time. A spot will open up.”
“I guess you’re right. But I have to get into the league first.”
“You’re the best striker on the team. You really think you won’t get drafted?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure.” Her voice trailed away as she looked off to the side of the field. Then her eyes locked onto mine. Blue. A darker blue with flecks of green and yellow. I rarely noticed these sorts of details, but for some reason I can’t stop looking.
“What about my injury?”
I laughed. “Stop thinking of reasons why you won’t get drafted, and start thinking about reasons why you will. I can think of a ton of reasons off hand for why you’d be an amazing addition to damn near any team.”
Corinne blushed, rocking back on her heels. “Alright, alright,” she said, her eyes darting to mine as she finally smiled. “You’re right. I should be a little bit more positive. It’s just been difficult lately.”
“Well, at least you weren’t suspended from your team and forced to coach a women’s collegiate team.”
Her eyes bugged out, and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
“So that…”
“A hurt toe? You really think I’d be out for most of the season for something minor like that?”
“I had a feeling. It makes more sense that you were forced to coach us. I mean, you’re not exactly the most charitable person…”
I laughed at Corinne’s sudden spark. “Oh, yeah? I’ll have you know that I’m quite charitable. I do… so many charitable things…” I paused, then added, “for charities and kids and…”
“You know repeating that you’re charitable over and over doesn’t make it true, right?”
“And you know the more you talk, the more I regret apologizing. I think I liked you better with your mouth closed.”
She gaped at me for moment and then smiled. Man she had a great smile. Wide and bright—her entire face lit up. And for a brief moment, it made me forget why I had even come here.
But, only for a moment.
“Come with me,” I said as I wheeled around and headed toward the building that housed the gym. I told her I’d make sure that she’d get drafted, and now was as good a time as any to start.
“What—Wh—” she mumbled behind me.
I paused, turned around, and looked back at her. The sun rising over the tree line made her skin glow a soft, peach color. She stood there, a dazed look on her face.
“Consider this my charitable giving. Your first game is only a few weeks away. We’ve got work to do. You coming or not?”
“Yeah,” she said with a quick shake of her head. “Yeah, let me grab my bag.”
She trotted to the goal, retrieved her bag, and then trotted back to me, all the while I wondered whether this was a good idea or not.
16
Corinne
My nerves were on edge.
I had no idea what I’d just signed up for with James. Private practices? Was I crazy? If I were any other girl, people might think something else might be going on.
Disappointment bloomed inside me, but I quickly pushed it away. I glanced at James as we walked silently toward the weight room. He looked like hell: stubble that was beginning to morph into an unkempt beard, bags under his bloodshot eyes, untamed hair. But even with all that he was still handsome. It wasn’t fair that anyone could be so effortlessly handsome.
When we finally reached the weight room, James pulled out a key, and after a little jiggling, unlocked the door and pushed it open. We both gasped as a stale, musty odor hit us. James flipped the light switch by the door. He had a deer-in-the-headlights look to him as the fluorescent lights slowly turned on, revealing the dated, mismatched equipment.
“It’s… something” He laughed a single, nervous laugh.
James walked around the room, checking out the machines, testing pulleys, making sure that everything was in a somewhat usable shape. I dropped my bag by the door and looked around for a fan to rid the air of the stale smell. There were a few windows at one end of the room. I opened them and then switched on the fan next to them. James turned to me as the fan whirred and gave me a thumbs up before turning back around.
He picked up an Olympic bar and began warming up. I watched as he squatted to the floor and back up again. He did this a few times before switching to another exercise where he pulled the bar from the ground and raised it over his head. He was wearing a white tank that did little to hide his muscular arms and torso. I wasn’t one to complain, though.
Holy hel
l…
I watched the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulge as he moved the bar. He grunted as he rapidly pushed the bar from his chest and over his head. Veins were beginning to bulge along his biceps, snaking their way down his arms.
He dropped the bar on the rack with a clash, jarring me from my trance.
“Sorry about that.”
As he scratched the back of his head, the hem his shirt pulled upward, revealing the bottom row of his abs.
Oh, man…
“It’s been a while since I’ve been in the weight room. I guess I went on auto-pilot.”
“It’s alright,” I said, trying my best to keep my eyes on his and not on his washboard abs.
“I guess we should get started.” He motioned to me. “Have a seat on the mat over here and start warming up your muscles.”
A few more minutes of watching James, and I’d be more than warmed up.
Cori!
I needed to get a hold of myself and fast. But with James’s smoldering gaze following me as I crossed the room, I was finding it difficult. For some reason, I became self-conscious about how I walked. Was I walking in a straight line? Was it too straight? Am I swinging my hips? Why did everything feel so weird? God it was frustrating.
Finally, I made it to the mat. He patted a spot in front of him, and I scooted closer.
“We’ll start with a few basic stretches and then move on to some that focus on your knee. Sound good?”
“Sounds good.”
He patted the mat again. “Closer.”
His deep voice rattled in my chest as I moved even closer. I could smell his body wash and see the light flecks of brown in his pale green eyes.
“That’s better, Cori,” he said before launching into the routine.
I was surprised to find how tiring and difficult some of these stretches were, but as James walked me through each one, I felt the tightness in my muscles slowly unravel.
We’d spent more than half an hour stretching, and I was already exhausted. I let go of my leg and collapsed onto the mat, reaching out for my water bottle.
“You’re not tired already, are you?”
“Nope,” I lied in between gulps of water. “After all those sprints you’ve put us through, nothing tires me out.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, sighed, and then tossed the bottle away.
“Good,” James said with a smile. “That’s kind of the point of conditioning.”
“Yeah? I thought the point was to kill us.”
He laughed. “They’re not that bad.”
“Then why don’t you join us sometime, Coach?”
James raised his right foot and shook it at me. “Hurt toe. Remember?”
“You’re lucky my water bottle is out of reach right now.”
He smiled and my chest fluttered. I tried to ignore the sensations it elicited, but my flushed cheeks betrayed me.
“I’ll be slowing down the conditioning soon. I think you all got the message.”
“Loud and clear.”
“But you have to admit that it worked, right?”
“Definitely.” For most people, at least. Rylee was still spotty with her attendance—late or not showing up at all. I had no idea why Coach Kay hadn’t suspended her yet. She seemed to be condoning her behavior by making her striker. It didn’t make any sense.
I must have had a weird look on my face because James asked if I was alright.
“Yeah, fine.”
James arched an eyebrow, giving me a look that told me he saw right through me. It was a little unnerving how expressive his eyes were. They pressed me to speak, and after a few more moments, I did.
“Do you have any input on the starting lineup?”
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “You’re not happy about Rylee at striker. I get it.” He ruffled his hair and then rubbed his stubble. “Yeah, I wasn’t too thrilled about it either. Rylee hasn’t been the most reliable player. But after hearing Coach Kay’s reasoning, I think she made the right choice.”
“Really?” I blurted out.
“Hold on a minute,” James said, reaching out and placing a hand on my leg. My breath hitched in my chest, and goosebumps erupted along my leg in response to his touch. It was warm and rough and a part of me wanted more. “Hear me out.”
He pulled his hand back from my leg, leaving a tingling sensation in its absence.
“What was your first response when you found out Rylee was striker?”
“To cry?” I shrugged. Okay, it wasn’t that bad. It still sucked, though.
James snorted. “Okay, after that. What did the news make you want to do?”
I thought about it for a few moments. “After that… I guess it made me want to work harder.”
James smiled at me. “Exactly. It lit a fire under your ass.”
“Yeah…” I said, slowly working it out. “I guess you’re right.”
“You’re up before sunrise, working out before practice. Do you think Rylee is doing the same?”
I shook my head. “I guess not.”
“She doesn’t have your dedication. And frankly, she doesn’t have your skill.”
I blushed.
“I mean that, too. Give it a few games. Prove to Coach Kay and to yourself that you deserve that spot.”
My body flooded with joy. It was almost unbearable how good his kind words made me feel. It reminded me of the night he stayed with me, giving me the courage to stand up to my mother.
“You ready to work now?” James said, standing up.
“Definitely.”
James offered his hand, and I accepted it. Warmth spread from his hand to mine and up my arm. I didn’t want him to let go. It felt too good, natural even, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.
Any hope of distancing myself from my childhood feelings for James was disappearing, and a part of me liked it.
17
James
I sprawled on the ground, gasping for air. Corinne had challenged me to join the team sprints, and I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. As I struggled to fill my lungs with air, I wish I had. It had been far too long since I’d done anything that resembled cardio.
“You okay down there, Grandpa? Need me to fetch your oxygen tank?” Corinne said, beaming as she bent over me.
I sputtered, nearly choking on the bit of water I was trying to drink. Corinne was usually reserved, but every now and then, a flash of feistiness broke through the surface. I liked those moments.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said.
“Not so easy are they?”
“The sprints? Those were a cakewalk. Just like I said. I’m only down here because…” I looked around for a moment. “My shoelaces were untied.”
“They look laced to me.”
“Exactly.”
Corinne groaned, plopped down next to me, and scanned the field. Practice had just finished, and everyone was milling around, chatting, slowly making their way back to the locker room.
With the first game tomorrow, excitement was at an all time high. After a rocky start, the team was falling into a consistent rhythm. There was still a bit of rust to shake off, but these last few practices had given me hope that the team was headed in the right direction.
I still hadn’t heard anything from Pete about a new team, but I didn’t mind. In fact, I’d hardly thought about it in the past week. Surprisingly, I’ve been enjoying my coaching role, helping the players improve, especially Corinne. I looked forward to our weightlifting routine and found myself annoyed on our off days. I considered adding more days, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well, and it would be counterproductive.
I was impressed with how easily Corinne picked up weightlifting. In the short time we’d been working out together, I’d already noticed improvements in the weight room and on the field. She had gained a bit of speed on some of the other forwards, and her shots had more power behind them. But more than that, I was impressed by her dedication.
I’ve yet to beat h
er to the weight room since we’ve started. She’s always sitting on the mat warming up as I walk in. And when I add more weight to her exercises, she doesn’t back down from the challenge. It’s no wonder she’s outplayed most of the girls on the field. She may not have the most natural talent, but she made up for it in sheer willpower and dedication.
“You ready for tomorrow?” I asked.
“I think so,” Corinne said, still looking out at the field. “But I’m a little nervous.”
“I’d be concerned if you weren’t.”
Corinne turned to me with a confused look on her face.
“I mean it,” I said with a quick shrug. “It means you care.”
Corinne thought about it for a moment. “Do you still get nervous before games?”
“All the time.” But as I thought about it, I wasn’t really sure. I used to get nervous all the time before games, even when I wasn’t facing challenging opponents, but I wasn’t sure if that was still the case. The more I considered it, the more uneasy I began to feel.
“I’m kind of sad we won’t have our regular workout tomorrow,” Corinne said, bumping her shoulder into mine.
“We’ll just have to make up for it next week.”
“Okay, I’m not that broken up about it.”
I laughed. “Alright, regular routine next week. No make ups.”
“I don’t think my legs could handle an extra day of squatting,” she said, rubbing her thighs.
Corinne had some amazing legs: long and muscular and tanned. It was a constant struggle to keep my eyes off of them and well, the rest of her, when we worked out together.
“I don’t know,” I said, forcing myself to look away. Most of the girls had left the field by now, but Rylee was leaning against the goal, watching us. “You’d be surprised with how quickly your body adapts to extra stimuli.”
“Yeah, maybe next time you run sprints with us you won’t pass out.”
I laughed, turning my attention from Rylee to Corinne.
My breath caught in my chest as I took her in; her full lips, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She was gorgeous and kind and sincere, and it was hard to ignore that and the good feelings that welled inside me whenever I was around her.
