‘HIT ME!’
I slip around a defender, and as she reaches out for the pass that Jordan has made my way, I line myself up, back to the defender, and force a spin, turning her away from the ball, and turning myself right towards it. The ball hits the head of my stick. I don’t have the time to look. I whip it straight at the net, praying the goalie’s caught unawares. Praying the goal is good when the final whistle blows.
And then the horn.
‘THAT’S FOURTEEN–THIRTEEN, RIDERS …’
A strangled cry leaves my throat as I toss my stick, clapping my hands over my mouth. I hit the ground immediately, the turf scraping my knees, but I don’t register the feeling. All I can register is endless, boundless euphoria.
TheonlySouthern Conference team to touch a natty trophy.
Theonlyteam led by a woman of colour to win a championship.
‘HOLY SHIT!’ Jordan screams, crashing to the ground right beside me, wrapping her arms around me as we both shake with sobs of respite. The girls on the bench storm the field, our entire team forming a bubble by the goal. I hear Coach’s shrieks as she joins us, all of us one great, crying mass as confetti rains down around us, tangling itself in hair and sticking to sweaty uniforms. Orange and white confetti.
The cameras hover over us as we finally stand. I find my way to my feet shakily, in shock.
‘May,’ Jordan squeezes my shoulder with a laugh, tipping her head back towards the outside of our circle. ‘Someone’s here to see you.’
I turn around with a jolt. Colt, arms crossed, smiles proudlyfrom a few paces away. His presence is quiet, but his eyes speak volumes.
‘Hey!’ I call, pushing my goggles as they slip down my forehead as I fight back a smile awash in tears. ‘Couldn’t clear your head?’
He lets out a laugh and shakes his head. ‘Not a chance.’
Chapter Forty-Six
The Right Time
Colt
May whips around, her ponytail flying about in the breeze, the orange and white ribbons tied around it fluttering recklessly. Her thick lashes flutter, her lips parting slightly. Her cheeks are stained with tears, flushed red from exhaustion, and her brow, glistening with a sheen of sweat, creases when she jogs away from the circle of her teammates, stopping a couple feet from me. Grass covers her cleats, more dirt caking the bottom as she screws one foot into the ground idly.
‘Hey!’ She shoves her goggles up over her hair like a headband. ‘Couldn’t clear your head?’
‘Not a chance.’
She cracks a smile that disappears as quickly as it manifests, replaced by an unconvinced expression. She draws closer to me, a tentative step here, another one there, and I mirror her. Shemoves her hands from her goggles, crossing her arms the same way mine are.
‘You made it.’ Her eyes skate across my bright orange Riders T-shirt-jersey. ‘And this particular choice from your wardrobe?’
‘OKC colours are mandatory,’ I reply matter-of-factly. The little roll of her eyes that she responds with sends my stomach into hysterical somersaults.
May uncrosses her arms and drapes them over my shoulders, cocking her head. ‘Still wearing my jersey. My number. Am I supposed to read between some dumbass lines?’
Clever. I can’t help the smirk that crosses my face. ‘What, can a guy wearing his girlfriend’s jersey not make it known that he’s hers?’
‘Oh, girlfriend? Mine?’ She widens her eyes, leaning back in faux surprise. ‘Suddenly you’re mine? I should do this “different destinations” bullshit more often.’ She moves her gaze to our feet, sweeping a curl from her face with a sigh.
‘Clearly, it did its thing.’
May scoffs, but she’s smiling now. ‘And so you came all the way here?’
‘Well, don’t give me too much credit. It’s just under a three-hour drive.’
‘Your coach?’
‘We sort of gaslit him into letting us go for the sake of equal and accessible opportunities in lacrosse. JJ’s very into that sort of thing, actually.’
