5
Reyes
In the days after the unexpectedly amazing blind date with Jake, I became lost in my work. When I wasn’t with the kids, I was meeting with the other coaches or planning new lessons. It was time-consuming work that kept my mind busy, which was exactly what I needed. I barely had time to think about my problems in life or the gorgeous blue-eyed man until I lay down in bed each night. But think of him I did, usually with a hand down my shorts.
It was strange how much I wanted to see him again. We’d only shared one night together, and that was exactly what it was supposed to be, but I had enjoyed Jake’s company a lot more than I’d expected to. In truth, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so relaxed around someone, aside from my cousin, Max, but that was completely different. It was the first time in a while I’d felt like I could be myself, and I didn’t think the only reason was that Jake seemed to be oblivious that I was a world-famous soccer player. I wanted to see him again and suspected Amelia could help me connect with him if I asked, but with my busy schedule I hadn’t seen her around yet to ask.
The sun was hot on my neck as I watched the kids practicing on the field, causing sweat to trickle down my back. We’d been at this for forty minutes already, yet the kids were still going strong. Our sessions were four days a week. Two hours on both Tuesday and Thursday evenings, then three hours Saturday with a weekly scrimmage on Sunday. It was a lot to ask of not only the kids but also the families, giving up their weekends. But it was also expected with an elite program like this. The kids had pushed themselves hard this week, and tomorrow was their first scrimmage. They would be paired up with another one of the teams from the clinic to test their new skills against each other and everyone was amped up to play.
I took a long pull from my water bottle as I kept a close eye on the boy in the corner of the field, who had just stepped up to take his turn on the drill. He sprinted at top speed, then turned sharply, just as I’d taught the kids to do.
“Good, Parker! Just try not to slow down before you get there. Trust your instincts.”
The eight-year-old grinned back at me with pride before running off to the end of the line. He was easily one of the more advanced kids in the group, already having a few years of experience.
I waited for the next kid to complete their pass before switching to practicing dropkicks.
Something caught my attention on the sidelines. A young boy was sitting in the shade, legs folded under himself with his chin resting in one hand, watching the kids on the field with rapt interest. He wasn’t wearing a jersey, so I knew he wasn’t a member of the clinic, but damn, if he didn’t look as if he wanted to be. Right away, I felt an unexplainable connection with the kid.
I’d been that boy once, longing to join the kids on the field so many years ago. My parents hadn’t been able to sign me up for soccer when I was young, since they were still trying to get their restaurant up and running and were barely making ends meet. It wasn’t until a neighbor sponsored me to be on the local youth team that I’d had my first real taste of the sport. The rest, as they say, is history.
“HEADS!” Jordan yelled.
He’d lost control of the ball, sending it flying off the field, right in the direction of the boy. He quickly scrambled to his feet, eyes focused and shoulders ready. When it landed several feet in front of him, he ran to it and held it in both hands. I expected him to toss it back, but instead he took a deep breath, steadied himself, and bravely drop-kicked it back to the kids on the team. It wasn’t a smooth kick, but the smile that broke over his face as he watched it fly through the air made it one of the most beautiful kicks I’d seen in a while.
Without thinking about it, I started to head in his direction. I had no idea what I planned to say to him, only that I wanted to know who he was. As soon as he noticed me approaching, he quickly retreated.
“It’s okay,” I quickly reassured him. “I just want to talk.”
The boy stopped, folding his thin arms over his chest in a protective gesture as he looked to the ground.
Ignoring the pain in my knee, I knelt before him. He was no older than seven or eight, with fair hair and rich honey-colored eyes that were so similar to my ma’s. Which reminded me, I still needed to call her back.
“What’s your name?” I asked the boy.
“Ha-Harrison,” he stammered, nervously.
“Harrison,” I repeated. “That’s a great name. Sounds like a future soccer champ’s name if you ask me.” He still didn’t say anything. “You look like you want to play. Do you want to join us?”
He lifted his head a fraction, disbelief written all over his features.
“Come on. I was just going to have the kids scrimmage. You can join them.” He started to shake his head, but I insisted. “I saw that determined look in your eyes when you kicked the ball, Harrison. I know you have it in you.Sé valiente.”He cocked his head in confusion. I grinned. “It means ‘be brave.’ These kids are great, I promise. You’re going to like them.”
“But I don’t have any money,” he replied weakly.
The ratty old clothes that hung too loosely from his body seemed to emphasize his point, but it also only made me more determined to give this to him. Something told me he needed this.
“Do you want to play, Harrison?”
He straightened a little, but his voice was still hesitant. “Yes.”
“Then you’re going to. Come on.”
It took some coaxing, but soon Harrison was following me across the field. As soon as we reached the group, one of the boys recognized him and ran over to us, a huge smile on his freckled face.
“Harris!”
Harrison gave Tim a small, tentative wave.
