I had nothing to lose by trying.
"Dude, you haven't missed once," Maddox clapped me on the shoulder, his grin wide.
I matched his grin, proud of myself. "Yeah, I'm amazing."
"Let's not get carried away," Maddox let out a short laugh. "You have a long way to go."
"Asshole," I punched his arm, still grinning.
Max came up, and my grin faltered. "Good job, Dex! You've been consistently scoring."
He sounded like my teacher giving me praise.
Our relationship was still on rocky terms since that uncalled goal, but I realized my ego and pride were hurt, and Max did what he always used to do.
Win.
I needed to put my pride aside and admit that the win for the team put us in a leading position.
It still sucked that my best friend didn't believe in me, but we were getting there.
"Thanks," I muttered, a bit less enthusiastically than before. "Guess all those late-night practices paid off," I joked to break the strange mood.
Max grinned. "Yeah, you are stronger."
"I bet the Pilates classes helped too," Maddox added, his lip curving into a strange grin.
I arched a brow at him, my voice steady. "They do, my knee feels much more stable."
Therapy also helped, but it wasn't any of their business knowing I had a weekly session. It helped me talk things through and clear my head.
But most of all, Rosie and her kisses helped last night.
Like summoning the devil, my phone rang in the changing room, and my watch displayed the notification from Rosalie.
Rosalie added a new song to your shared playlist:You, Unofficially.
My fingers itched to go and check it, curiosity eating mealive. I loved it when she added a new song; it meant she was thinking of me.
I never knew that having someone think about you, even in the slightest, could feel that good. I was used to extravagant things, my parents throwing money at me in the name of caring, girls wearing my number and praising me. But Rosalie's little acts were not only genuine but meant a lot more to me.
"You're looking so much better," Max nodded in agreement.
I stared at him, annoyance still clear on my face, despite my best efforts to smile. "Does that mean I can start?"
My best friend and captain tilted his head, giving it a thought. "I need to talk to Coach. I would love nothing more than to have you start. But Redwood's defense is very aggressive. That's the only thing they're good at."
"Then have the midfielders and attackers make sure they are on the top of their game," I arched a suggestive brow at my midfielder best friends.
"I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
"Yeah, and the next team we're playing is equally aggressive. And after that, if we progress, we will be playing Westpoint. And we all know how that turned out..." I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. "There's always an excuse not to let me play. I missed the first leg of the season because of my recovery. Now I'm busting my ass here, and all you do is bench me. And yes, I know that's soccer, and everyone is equally busting their asses, but until you let me back to try, you won't know if I can be the player I used to be. I don't need you to believe in me, I just need you to let me try. Otherwise, you'll forever leave me in this weird in-between limbo."
Max raked his hand through his messy hair and exhaled. "I'm just worried."
"Even if I screw up, you can fix it. It won't cost us the championship."
"No," Max shook his head. "I'm sure it won't. But it might cost you your career."
