“Now comes the real media flurry,” she says. “You thought all eyes were on the agency before, just watch the buzz I’m about to stir up for us now.”
I’m excited. Every bit as excited as her.
But I still feel like there’s an ax hanging over my head.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
ORLANDO
Back on the field with my team again, sweating and running plays, I remember that this is the priority. Just yesterday, The Force won their semifinal game in the MLS Cup Playoffs, and I even got to join for the last few minutes of play. That means we’re facing Boston in the finals next week, right on time for my return to the starting lineup. Soccer is the only thing that matters.
It’s appropriate for Troy to pull back, to insist we stop taking risks right now. But it still hurts and makes me angry, especially to feel him harden himself toward me like he hasn’t in weeks.
He pivoted back to business-only so fast, it stung. I get it. I get Troy. But I don’t want him to act rationally. I want him to act like he needs me, like he can’t possibly stay away from me, because that’s exactly how I feel about him right now.
I kick a ball, sending it sailing across the empty field before rolling into the net.
“Didn’t hurt that leg any.”
Kevyn comes jogging toward me, dressed for practice and already sweating even though it’s a cool, early fall day.
My goal is to say in rhythm with the team, show my coaches and my teammates that I’m recovered and better than ever. The new offensive line is pushing hard, especially since the midfield has kicked up another level with their support in the late game.
“You’re lightning out there,” I tell Kevyn and greet him with a half-hug and a back slap.
“Thanks.” He tilts his head to the side. “Everything cool? The coaches and Zeke keep saying good things about your recovery, but I heard you had some emergency meeting with Frisk.”
I rub the back of my head, hating that I’m always having to keep these secrets. It’s exhausting.
“Maybe there’s another story about me coming to the tabloids? I don’t know, man. I’m not trying to seek out the spotlight.”
Kevyn shrugs. “I believe you that you streaked by mistake.”
I slap my hand over my forehead as I remember. Shit. How am I always getting myself in these situations?
“You got another video on the way?” he asks.
“Nothing like that.” I sigh. “I’m sleeping with someone,” I tell him. “And I guess tabloids care about our sex lives now? Fair warning to you and…” I cough instead of naming his thing with Stace at their workplace.
Neither Kevyn or I got this kind of attention last year, but with the team’s record and our new profiles, I guess that’s changed.
“Shit. I thought something was going on. You’ve been acting happy all the damn time.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Your game got better, too. But I decided it was just the training routine that the agency was putting you through.”
“That was part of it,” I admit.
In ways that I can’t even begin to explain, that was a part of it.
I wish there was another ball to kick. All this talk has got me thinking about Troy and how I’m frustrated and annoyed with him and miss him.
Kevyn eyes me. “She cute?”
I close my eyes, wishing I could just tell him it’s a man. I know Kevyn is chill. He won’t be an ass. But that would be like coming out, and is that really what I’m doing right now? It feels so big, but I realize I want to, too.
“Maybe I can tell you about it soon,” I tell him.
“And hopefully I don’t read it in the tabloids first,” he says. He bends and pushes his socks down. “I hate that tabloids care about who we’re dating.” He stands back up, looks over his shoulder, and gives me a pained expression.
I wrinkle my brow. “Something up?”
