“Yoga.”
I groan at his simple answer. “Yes, I see that, but why?”
He stands from his pose and walks to the kitchen, me close on his heels. This I need to know.
“Yoga is good for muscle strength and flexibility.” He grabs a bottle of water from his stainless steel fridge and hands me one.
I take a seat on one of his tall stools pulled up to the breakfast bar. “Do all soccer players do yoga?”
“What do you know about soccer?” he asks leaning against the back counter.
Hmm. I remember he talked about the sport this weekend after we ate breakfast, but pain and the meds muffled most of what he said. “Um, I know that David Beckham used to be hot.”
“Really?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
I sigh and toy with the lid to my water. “You’re right. Who am I kidding, he’s still hot.”
“What position does he play?”
Position? There are designated names for people who run after a ball on a grassy field? I researched Ryland, but it looks like I need to hit the Internet again and do my research on soccer if he plans to continue with these types of questions.
“In my fantasies?” I ask for the sole purpose of goading him.
It works. Ryland tilts his head, shaking it at me with disbelief. “No. On the field.”
Damn. He would ask questions bound to reveal the extent of my sports knowledge. None. Rather than admit I’m clueless, I respond with the first position to pop in my head that isn’t quarterback. That’s a football term and I’m almost positive they aren’t included in soccer. “Running back.” Why can’t I remember at least what position he plays. The few soccer facts I read are jumbled together.
His head continues to shake at my enthusiastic, but apparently wrong answer. “While technically a football term, it’s the wrong football in this case.”
“There’s more than one kind of football?”
“Oh, Marissa.” He sighs and takes another drink of his water. “You have so much to learn, young grasshopper.”
It’s not hard to tell he’s ruffled by my lack of knowledge for a sport he loves, but he doesn’t let it show as he explains the rules of the game. I try hard to listen and commit things to memory this time. When I’m not distracted by his short beard of stubble or the muscles. The flexing muscles with each of his movements is alluring, but I catch a few words from his pretty mouth.
Ryland’s bold personality is one I could fall in love with. He’s patient and kind. I’d get lost in him until there’d be nothing left of myself on the outside. I slipped into that with Cody. I let myself believe there wasn’t a future without him in it and look how that ended for me. I’d rather not repeat the mistake a second time. My heart and brain need to stay far away from Ryland Bates.
