Things had gotten a little intense.
I held my hand out to the girl and helped pull her to her feet. She knew there were no hard feelings. She’d gone for the ball at the same time I had, and obviously only one of us was going to get it. Needless to say, we both really wanted it. With only a few days left before the start of the season, we all thought we were Highlanders. At one point when I had been the one knocked to the ground, I mouthed to Jenny, “There can be only one.” She didn’t even bother trying to be discreet when she burst out laughing.
But it was true, mostly.
When Gardner didn’t get to the point, I yelled, “What is it?” He held up a hand before turning around, discussing something with the German. He was standing a few feet to the side and behind the head coach, facing the field I was on. Gardner’s posture changed, and he leaned forward a little bit as they spoke, his hand occasionally jabbing backward for emphasis.
I rolled the ball onto the top of my toes and tapped it into the air, bouncing it up and down.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the special edition RK running shoes coming toward me. I looked up so quickly I lost control of the ball and let it drop. Those light-colored eyes were focused in on my face, making me so incredibly self-conscious.
How the hell had I gone from someone who didn’t really pay a lot of attention to my looks, to suddenly asking myself if I should start slapping some makeup on?
Wait.Poop. Poop. Poop.
We’d been squatting right next to each other when he “changed” my tire, and that was close enough to see pores.
If I could go without makeup 90 percent of the time in front of practically everyone, I could do it in front of him. Easy. I might not be the one on the team with a cosmetics deal, but I wasn’t a troll either. And if I was, so what?
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t that above petty things, but beauty was way down the list of characteristics in life that really mattered to me. I was a good soccer player and a pretty good person. I repeated that to myself a few times before holding my head up a little higher. That mattered more to me than whether or not I had a line of men who wanted to date me.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
I took a deep breath in through my nose and took in those hazel-green orbs straight on. “Yes?”
He tipped his head down at the ball, still looking me dead-on. It wasn’t the first time I’d talked to someone who looked at others so intensely; I’d been around high-strung self-confident people who didn’t know how to communicate in any other way. “It’s better if you do this….”
Kulti toed the ball to himself and started to move around me, making his way toward the goal as he spoke in a low voice that conveyed how tedious he found talking to be. It made sense, even if it sounded like the words were getting ripped from his throat. What he was saying and explaining made total sense. When he wasfinished, he kicked the ball back toward me and walked off like nothing happened.
Reiner Kulti had just dribbled the ball around me effortlessly, despite not being able to land a few PKs recently. I’d be a liar if I said that the hairs on my arms hadn’t responded to what I’d just witnessed. Having him yell your shortcomings was one thing, but actually getting on the field and participating… Jesus Louise-us.
I rubbed my tongue over my teeth and took it all in for a second.
“Thanks!” I called to his retreating back. Was there a response? Of course not.
“What’s that look on your face for, Sally?” Harlow asked as she walked by.
“He just helped me.”
She gave me an impressed look. “Your bratwurst?”
I nodded.
“How about that? Maybe he’s finally getting his head out of his big ass and really pitching in around here.”
The fact that Harlow both noticed and commented on Kulti’s big, sculpted butt amazed and amused me. I snorted, and then I snorted again as we both took a quick peek at his retreating buns. They were pretty perfect. Time and gravity hadn’t affected them at all.
When we both looked back at each other a good fifteen seconds later, we shook our heads and said at the same time, “Nah.”
Some things were too good to be true.
ONE WEEK and two preseason games later, the man formerly known as Silence of the Lambs had branched out to make exactly three other demonstrations. The second time had been again with me during another three-on-three minigame, and the other two times had been with two of the younger forwards on the Pipers. The girls had stood there and just nodded as he moved aroundthem. It wasn’t like I’d done much better; I shouted out a “Thanks!” awkwardly both times.
But the point no one was missing was: he was helping. It was only a little, but something was something.
Were things still weird? Yes. No one really spoke to him except the staff—Grace hadn’t said anything to him since that argument they’d gotten into after Kulti had been ugly with the two Pipers. Mostly everyone gave him his distance and went about their way.
But it worked. We won all of our preseason games and life kept going for each of us.
