Smiling feels like a betrayal. I’ve worked every muscle in my body since I was eight, except the ones that make smiling possible. Years in the spotlight taught me the truth: some want you to win, but plenty more would rather see you broken. I’ve been burned before. So I don’t give them anything. Not joy. Not weakness. Nothing. But maybe… for her, I could try.
Maybe if I make her job easier… it’ll be easier for me to concentrate when she’s around.
Doubt it.
Without even knowing it, she’s already got me playing the most dangerous game of my career—trying to guard a goal, with my head somewhere else entirely.
Chapter 6
Icross my legs on the turf, phone in one hand, camera in the other, and snap a few shots of the goalkeepers in action. Thiago takes in every one of Rogue’s tips, perfecting his stance bit by bit until he’s holding his ground like he was born in the net. Every ball that comes his way, he blocks cleanly. Rogue dives as if gravity doesn’t apply to him, but Thiago meets him save for save, refusing to miss a single shot.
I take a burst of photos—Thiago’s grin, Rogue’s scowl, the way the sun hits their jerseys just right—and pull up our social media account. After a quick edit and filter, I type out a caption:
Teaching him his ways #GoalieGoals #BlockTheGoals #StrikersStrong #TrainingDay
After a few taps, it’s live.
I scroll absently through notifications, my thumb swiping on autopilot… until a little icon in the corner catches my eye.
The Veil app has a pending notification. The red 1 calls my name, so I open the app, and there it is, a message.
@HalfWritten:
Good morning.
I hope your day is easier than the alarm clock that woke me up.
My chest does this ridiculous little flutter, and I hate it. It’s a text from a guy I don’t really know, yet… I’m smiling like an idiot on the sidelines of a professionalsoccer practice.
Before I can overthink it, I type a response.
@OneLastLine:
Thank you! and sorry I didn’t see this until now! I woke up a little later than I should have, and it’s already been a busy morning. Trying to get used to some new dynamics at work… I hope you’re having a great day too. Looking forward to talking to you soon.
I pause, thumb hovering over the send button. It’s been too long since anyone cared enough to make me feel seen first thing in the morning, and pathetic as it is, even the bare minimum makes my stomach flip. Still, here I am, grinning at my screen like he just sent me roses instead of a good morning text.
I hit send.
I dust off the back of my pants as I stand, sling my camera strap over one shoulder, and tighten my grip on my cellphone.The sun is already warm on the back of my neck as I make my way toward the glass doors that lead to the media offices. Practice is still in full swing behind me. Thiago’s laugh carries across the field, followed by Rogue’s low bark of a command.
Inside, the air-conditioning hits me like a blessing. The media office is buzzing. Laptops open, interns hunched over editing software, voices flying. Preparations for tomorrow’s big welcome event orbit around Rogue.
I never pictured myself here. My dream used to be New York. Glossy magazine spreads and an office with a view. I had it once, until COVID shrank it down to a half life in a cramped apartment, waiting for rent I couldn’t pay. Eventually, I packed my bags and moved back to Houston, crashing with my parents while I tried to figure out what the hell to do with my life. Houston was supposed to be temporary.
I weave through the chaos and drop into my chair, pulling my laptop in front of me.
Houston changed everything. Stuck at home, I started making little videos—outfit snaps, silly voiceovers, day-in-the-life clips. Somewhere along the way, people started following. Then brands started paying me to promote them, and suddenly, I wasn’t just scrolling anymore, I was creating.
That’s when I met Leandro, a rugby player from Argentina who had just signed with the brand-new Houston Panthers. He invited me to a game, and I filmed a few behind-the-scenes clips for fun. Those videos blew up. Millions of views, so many that the Panthers offered me a position as their official content creator. Overnight, making videos became my full-time job.
So when the Strikers announced they were hiring a social media manager in Great Lakes, the same city where my best friend Briana lived, I didn’t think twice. I packed my bags, kissed my parents goodbye, and never looked back.
And I’m good at it. Enough that other teams circle my inbox. Enough that the Strikers bumped my salary before I even asked. But forget the money, these days, I’m fighting for my life to get them to hire me an assistant before I lose my sanity.
All the success, though, comes with a price: pressure. Long hours, constant deadlines. The responsibility of making an entire fanbase feel connected to the team, even during offseason, and very, very little time for… me.
I drink my second cup of coffee as the media team filters into the conference room. On today’s list? Finalize the details for tomorrow’s welcome event, go over the schedule of appearances, and wrangle the chaos of our first away game coming up in a few days. Flights. Hotels. Content schedules. Live coverage. Press access. A mountain of logistics, and somehow, I’m the one standing at the top.
