Page 3 of Made Better Together

“Hello,” I manage to say.

Both Del and Eden watch me, like they’re expecting more to come out of my mouth—except I can’t find any words.

What’s happening? I’ve never been left speechless by a woman. My ex-girlfriend at Princeton used to joke about how I asked her out within an hour of us meeting.

Yet now, I can’t think of anything to say.

Finally, Eden gives us both a little smile. “I guess I’ll go back to my drills.”

As she jogs back to her side of the field, Del turns to me. “Close the jaw, kid,” he says, in an amused tone. “That’s my little girl.”

I snap out of my haze. Shit, he noticed my reaction? “I—uh, sorry.”

“You only have ten days before you return to school, so let’s focus on the matter at hand. Plus, you got me out here on a holiday. Although I don’t mind the exercise before I bury myself in burgers and beer later.”

He doesn’t sound overly irritated, but he’s definitely making it clear where my priorities need to be. Not on his daughter.

I nod and walk closer toward where he’s set up. “Yes, sorry. Let’s begin.”

He’s got a bag of balls, like always. “Extra-point kicks first. Get in your starting position.” Without waiting for a reply, he heads to the twenty-three-yard line, where the holder catches the snap for extra points in the NFL.

I back up further, and then take two strides to the left, as he holds the ball against the ground.

“Whenever you’re ready, Battle.”

What I’m really ready to do is turn around and check in on the other Larsson. Is she working on footwork? Her speed? What position does she play?

Is she really that fucking pretty?

Shit. This is not why any of us are here.

I need to focus on the mission: getting the ball through the uprights. Nothing else matters, I repeat a few times.

Finally, gaze narrowed on Del and the ball, my head clears. I set my body like he taught me, taking three strides forward and planting my left foot by the ball. Locking my ankle, I hit it squarely with the top of my right foot. BOOM.

The whole motion is over in seconds. Despite the need to wrestle Eden out of my mind beforehand, the ball goes through the uprights with plenty of room.

This is why I’m truly intrigued by kicking. I love the simplicity, the serene flow of the movements, and that it’s just you, the ball, and the uprights. Something I can control.

The ability to be precise and smooth is in sharp contrast to the constant jockeying for positioning and possessions on a soccer field.

“Awesome,” Del says as he pats me on the back. “Centered beautifully, and you easily would have made it even ten yards further back.”

“Thanks.” I grin at him, grateful for the affirmation.

“Kick a couple more times from that spot, and then we’ll make things more challenging.”

When the more difficult tests come, I deliver on each kick he asks for. We take short breaks in between, during which he gives me small tips about gameplay scenarios.

It’s in these moments that my mind slips to the other Larsson behind us, and I struggle to keep my attention on Del, instead of sneaking peeks at her.

At one point, I catch her nailing advanced footwork drills I can barely manage on my best day, and the sight sucks the air out of me.

She’s incredible.

Remember, this is her dad with you, I tell myself. The man trying to help me figure out if I wanted to switch to football, one of the greatest NFL kickers ever. I don’t want to waste his time.

But nothing has changed by the end of the session when she rejoins our side of the field.