“You sure?” he asks.
“Yes. I’ve always loved soccer. Of course, I love all college sports, but soccer’s my favorite.”
“Why?”
“Oh, man. What’s not to love?” Wistfulness fills my voice as I start my list. “First, there’s the smell of fresh-cut grass. That’s like a cue. Then there’s the sun.” I smile. “I think there’s something special about soccer. It’s like a free-for-all.” I put ahand up. “I know that’s not true, but as a fan, it feels that way. There’s not a ton of rules. There aren’t fouls being called every two seconds or challenges or the game clock stopping every few seconds. The game just gets to be played. Watching a really talented player dribble the ball around players or make a magnificent kick and score is...” I pause. “Breathtaking. It’s sports in its truest nature. And you don’t have to be a soccer expert to appreciate the game. A newbie can sit down and watch the game for the first time and understand exactly what’s going on. It’s simple enough a child can understand it and yet can be appreciated by the greatest athletes in the world. In soccer, anything can happen.” He doesn’t say anything, and I take a breath. “Uh, that might have been too much.”
“No, Tess. It was perfect. If I didn’t already love the sport, I would love it now.”
I grin. “See? That’s what’s so great about soccer or any sport really.”
“No, just soccer.”
I laugh. “Got it. Soccer is the premiere sport.”
“Yes, it is.” We walk in silence a little bit. “That’s what you’re missing.”
“Come again?” I ask in confusion.
“When I asked you about history, there was nothing there. But when I asked you about soccer, you lit up.”
I frown. “Well, that’s because soccer is a sport. Sports trump history, obviously.”
He’s quiet a beat. “Do your history professors feel that way?”
I laugh. “Oh, good heavens no.”
“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re in the wrong major?”
Chapter 23
Tessa
I groan. “Not you too.”
“What?”
“Quint was on a kick with this the other day saying I should be a sports journalist or reporter or some other nonsense degree.”
“I don’t think they’re nonsense,” Slater says quietly.
“No, I don’t mean that. I just mean,” I pause.What did I mean?
“There’s nothing wrong with being a history major, Tessa. If that’s what you want, go for it, no matter what anybody says or thinks.”
“Thanks, Slater.” I swipe my phone and head into the next building. This one is a quick in and out and then we move on. But as we walk, I can’t get his words out of my mind. “Do you think I’m making a mistake being a history major?”
He doesn’t answer right away. “I think you can do whatever you want. I just want you to do what you want, not what anybody else wants you to do. I want you to do what puts that fire in your eyes. And if that’s history, then go after it with Tessa tenacity.”
I laugh at that. “Tessa tenacity. I’m totally stealing that.”
“Go for it; it’s yours.”
We talk off and on for the next hour, but my mind stays back on the soccer talk. When we get back to the guard shack, I turn to Slater. “Well, I hate that you got no sleep, but I really enjoyed your company tonight. So, thank you.”
“I’m only glad I was here to save you from that terrifying mouse,” he says absolutely straight-faced.
I groan. “I am never going to live that down.”
