I was in so much trouble.
Kieren grabbed a soccer ball when I walked up to the turf section of the studio, casually spinning it on one finger like he wasn’t already absurdly good at everything. His gaze dragged over me—starting at my boots, then lingering way too long at my tucked-in shirt—before he smirked like he’d just confirmed a suspicion.
“You’re late,” he said, catching the ball and tucking it under his arm.
“You’re bossy,” I shot back, brushing past him like I wasn’t mildly flustered by the way his voice dipped at the end.
He took a step closer, tilting his head. “You’re bad at soccer.”
I froze. “That’s slander.”
“It’s truth. No coordination. You flinch every time the ball moves.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “I panic because I value my face.”
“Uh-huh. Sounds like fear talking.”
“It’s literally self-preservation.”
He stepped in front of me, dropped the ball at his feet, and started juggling it effortlessly, barely even looking down. Of course he could do that in full gear while making it look sexy.
“Tell you what,” he said, catching the ball and tapping it into his hands. “I’ll teach you how to juggle. For the cameras. Quick video short. Gets the fans talking.”
“Let me guess,” I said, raising a brow. “Cam’s idea?”
His grin was too smug. “Mine, actually.”
That was somehow worse.
Before I could overthink it, he stepped behind me, crowding into my space and guiding the ball into my hands. His voice dropped low enough that I could feel it against the back of my neck.
“Drop it gently, lift with your foot. Don’t kick—just pop it.”
I swallowed. Hard. “I have zero faith in this plan.”
He chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing I have enough for both of us.”
I glanced over my shoulder, our faces way too close. “Is this part of the lesson?”
“No,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s just me enjoying the view.”
I dropped the ball. On his foot.
It bounced off, rolled away, and he winced with mock betrayal. “That’s assault.”
I shrugged. “Self-defense.”
He bent to retrieve it, still smiling. “You’re lucky I like you.”
And just like that, I was spiraling again.
Kieren stepped in behind me again, far too close, like his presence alone might improve my coordination.
“Relax your foot,” he murmured, voice a little too smooth for someone giving athletic instruction.
I didn’t turn around. “Hard to do when you’re breathing down my neck like Batman.”
A low huff of laughter. “Would you rather I back off?”
