You also had ten other people on the field to move the ball back and forth.
My morning run and practice had already taken their toll. Playing with Kulti made every muscle feel that much more intense, even the backs of my knees were wet with sweat.
But when his breath was in my ear and his body was right behind me, I could hear and feel the exhaustion radiating from his own body. I smiled.
“Getting winded?”
He grunted but didn’t respond; a second later, I realized why. In a move that was Reiner Kulti at the height of his career, he stole the ball from me and powered toward the goal using the advantage of his long legs. I saw it coming, but I still didn’t slow down as I ran to catch up.
With a swift kick I didn’t have a chance of blocking, the soccer ball flew through the air in a sharp powerful line. Perfect. It was a perfect shot.
I smiled and shook my head despite the fact that under normal circumstances, I would have been pissed off I was down one.
But that had been beautiful. And when Kulti turned around with the smuggest triumphant smile I would probably ever see, and that was saying something considering I’d played against some pretty egotistical people, it pleased me. It went straight into mysternum because it was so…him.It wasn’t the blank indifferent man I’d seen so many times over the course of the last month.
“One-zero, Taco,” he said like I was an idiot and had no idea what the score was.
Just like that, that pleased feeling in my chest that had appreciated the joy of his brief triumph disappeared.
Had he…?
“Taco? Really?” I wanted to laugh, as demeaning as the nickname was, but I’d kind of asked for it, hadn’t I?
He shrugged in acknowledgment.
I waved him on. “All right, pumpernickel. Come on, six more to go.”
YEAH, we only made it to four-three, and even then it was a miracle we hadn’t keeled over.
“You look like you could use a break.” How the hell I managed to get that out in one sentence, I had no idea. I was wheezing. He was wheezing. When the hell was the last time I’d breathed like that? Never?
Kulti was soaked in sweat, and on top of that, his face was a little pale. “I’m fine.”
Fine? He looked like he wanted to puke. I’d also noticed that his right quad was pulsing. Why I noticed that, why I’d even looked down there, I had no idea. But I wasn’t going to think about it either.
“Positive?” I stuck my tongue as far out of my mouth as I could and took a deep breath to calm down. Ugly, but it worked, and my lungs thanked me for it.
He rolled his eyes but kept struggling to catch his breath. Jeez. Were we really playing that roughly? “Unless… you want to.”
I did. I did want to. I had no idea how I was going to push a lawnmower even if it was self-propelled. This was too much, and I’d been stupid for putting myself through it. But fuck if I was going to admit it. “I do if you do.”
His cheeks were puffing full and empty, reminding me of a frog. “You’re… losing. I don’t care.”
I was losing and that sucked, but later on, I could pat myself on the back for hanging in there as long as I had. So I shrugged at him.
He lifted his eyebrows in return but didn’t agree to anything.
“You choose.”Please say yes. Please say yes.
Kulti took a deep inhale through his nose. “You look like you’re about to pass out,” he noted.
Asshole.
I was losing, and apparently, I looked like I was going to pass out. Please, compliment me more.
I hoped his knee was sore later.
“I don’t think you should overdo it either.” I smiled, biting back my words. “Since you haven’t played forever and all.”
