“It was, and I do, but my parents were insistent I was coming with them.” He glances out the window, and it’s like he’s looking through the girls bouncing on the trampoline and not really seeing them.
“They seem supportive of your career goals,” I softly say. “So, maybe they have their reasons?”
Tension trickles into the air, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped the mark.
“They do.” He turns back around to look at me. “But it’s bullshit, and they are only making things harder for me. There are so many players, in so many countries, who want what I want. Only a tiny percentage ever make it. The odds are already stacked against me, and them pulling me away the year when scouts will be actively watching the DDSL, looking to recruit the top talent, is the worst possible decision. I’m not fucking there. I’m fucking here where scouts rarely come. They are ruining my life. Ruining my dream, and I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive my dad for forcing this.”
“I’m so sorry, Callan.”
“Shite.” He claws his large hands through his messy hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”
“It’s fine. I asked if you wanted to talk about it, and it seems like you needed to vent that.”
“I did. I haven’t said anything to Thor or any of the guys on the team ’cause I don’t wanna come across like a moany fuck. I’m not the only one who wants a professional soccer career.”
“You said soccer, not football. Thor would be proud.”
Callan chuckles, and I count it as a win. “Thanks, Astrid.”
“For what?” I pull out two trays, and Callan pushes off the counter, moving to my side and helping me to load the bowls onto them.
“For making me smile. I’ve been in the worst mood all weekend.”
“Because you don’t want to be here, or for another reason?” His arm brushes against mine as we finish loading the trays, and sparks dance across my skin.
“I’ve been playing for St. Pat’s—that’s my team back home—since I was eleven, and today is the first time my team are playing without me in years. It’s the first match of the season, and I’ve never missed one before. One of my mates is gonna video and send it to me, and I’ve been in a shitty mood all weekend thinking about how I should be there and hating that I’m not.”
“Maybe it would be better not to watch it.” I lift one of the trays as Callan takes the other, and we walk toward the double doors.
“The logical part of my brain believes that too, but there’s another part of my brain that likes torturing myself and a different part that wants to see them fall apart without me, which is super fucking selfish, right? And most likely not true either. They’re a decent side, and they’ve already replaced me.”
“It’s only human to feel all of that. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I overanalyze everything. It’s just part of my makeup.”
“I think that’s a teenager’s prerogative,” I quip.
He smiles again. “You’re real easy to talk to, Astrid.”
“I’m here if you ever need to talk, Callan. I know it can’t be easy moving away from your team, your home, your friends, your school. If I can help, you just need to ask.”
“Thanks.” He holds the door open for me.
We deposit the trays on the table as our dads are placing serving plates of various grilled meats in the middle. Callan follows me back inside to get the bread and jugs of cold water from the fridge.
“Astrid.” He stops just inside the doors, turning his back to the glass to face me. There is barely any distance between our bodies, and I’m eye level with his broad shoulders and toned chest. Callan is all man in a way the other boys at school are not.
Electricity crackles in the air, and his eyes ensnare me as we stare at one another. I’m tingling all over, and I wonder if he’s feeling the same things I’m feeling. It’s dangerous, this vibe between us. His gaze dips to my mouth, and I feel his attention lick over every inch of my skin as if his tongue were tracing patterns on my body.
“Would you want to watch it with me?”
I stare blankly at him.
“It’s cool if you don’t,” he blurts, straightening up and breaking our intense stare.
The game. The one his friend is gonna record for him. Got it.
“I just thought it might not be so bad if someone else was there, but it’s fine. I?—”
