Love and Other Goals (Love and Other #1)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I t was super late by the time I finally went to bed after giving the Beefs a full play-by-play of my evening, including my cringe conversation with Aaron (I’d never seen Amaya so riled up, and trust me, I’ve seen her riled up plenty of times). Even after going to bed, it took a while to fall asleep since I was running back through every moment with Mateo on repeat. Particularly the feeling of his fingers interlocked with mine.

The clock reads 9:30 a.m. by the time I wake up Saturday morning, immediately smiling again thinking about Mateo’s sweet expression when he asked me to be his girlfriend. I’ve always quietly been a romantic, but I’m still surprised by how giddy I feel.

I reach for my phone and feel it vibrate with a notification. Unlocking it, I see that Mateo sent me a text this morning.

Mateo

Morning beautiful. Text me when you’re up if I can swing by real quick

I sit upright in bed. He knows I’ll be at the soccer match tonight, so I’m not sure what would be so urgent. I text him back to give me twenty minutes and rush to throw on leggings and a sweatshirt, then brush my teeth and hair. Slipping out the front door, I close it quietly behind me and sit down on a porch chair to wait for him to arrive. I’m regretting not grabbing a cup of coffee to make sure my brain is fully functional before seeing him.

Mateo’s truck pulls up the street a few minutes later with the windows rolled down to let in the cool morning air. He waves at me as I walk down to the curb. He turns off the engine, and I meet him by the driver’s door as he opens it. As he steps out of the truck, he hands me a cup of coffee from Raelynn’s with a grin. “Thought you might need a morning dose of energy.”

I accept the cup and take a sip. He has the coffee to half-and-half ratio perfect. “The Lord bless you,” I say with fake piety, making him laugh. “So, what’s up?”

His smile falters a little bit. “Ah, I just had a favor to ask you. Or not really a favor, just a request, I guess.” He runs his hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck, a subconscious movement I’m catching on to as his equivalent of my fingers playing piano. “I mean, it’s okay if you say no or don’t want to do it, you might think it’s a little silly, and that’s totally fine, I won’t be upset or anything.”

Mateo always has such a humble confidence about him, it’s a little bit adorable to see him act so nervous around me. Strike that—it’s extremely freaking adorable. I can’t help but smile before I put him out of his misery. “Mateo, last night I said yes to being your girlfriend, so there’s a pretty high likelihood that I’ll say yes to whatever you’re trying to ask me.”

That makes him grin. “You’re right, you did say yes to being my girlfriend.” His dimple is killing me right now. “Well, this request is related. On the soccer team, there’s this sort of…tradition, I guess you could say. If players have a girlfriend, they give one of their old jerseys from a past season’s kit to their girlfriend to wear to the soccer matches.”

He leans into his truck and comes out holding a soccer jersey with Alvarez stitched above the number fourteen. He smiles a little sheepishly as he looks into my eyes. “So, I was kind of hoping that maybe you would wear my jersey from last year when you come to the match tonight? But I understand if you don’t want to?—”

I cut him off by placing my hand on his forearm and taking the jersey from him. “Mateo, I’d be honored to wear your jersey tonight and at any match I’m able to attend.” I tuck the jersey under the arm holding my coffee cup so I can take his hand with my free one, making his face light up.

“But I need you to understand something before I wear this. At the last match, I was literally sitting on my hands to keep from wildly yelling throughout the whole game. But no holds barred tonight—I will probably be jumping and screaming my head off, so you have to decide if you want me associated with your name while doing so,” I say with a sly smile.

Mateo throws his head back in a laugh. “I’ll expect nothing less, Lana. Don’t let me down,” he teases with a wink. “I’ve got to go get some homework done before warmups later. But after the match tonight, a bunch of the guys from the team and some of their girlfriends are planning to grab some late-night food. Would you want to come with me?”

“I’d love to,” I reply. “Where should I meet you after the match?”

Mateo instructs me where to wait with the other players’ girlfriends outside the direct entrance to the locker room. He gets back into his truck, and I lean against the open window to tell him goodbye. Mateo reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear with a soft smile, and I feel my cheeks heat up, which only makes him smile bigger. “I’ll see you tonight, Lana.”

I turn back to the AOPi house and notice an open-mouthed Bailey up the sidewalk, apparently heading out on a run. She startles when she sees me notice her, clamping her mouth shut. She shoves her ear buds in as she takes off jogging down the street without so much as a hello.

Determined to shake her snootiness off, I go inside and head up to our room, where Amaya is out of bed and Teegan is beginning to stir. When I walk in holding a Raelynn’s cup, Amaya immediately scolds me. “Are you telling me you got up and went out for coffee without bringing me anything back?”

I give her a little shove and say, “No, I did not go to Raelynn’s. This was delivered to me by Mateo, along with his old jersey from last year that he wants me to wear to the match tonight.”

Teegan bolts upright in bed. “He what now? You’re wearing his name to the soccer game tonight?” I nod and hold it up for her to see. “Ughhh, unfair. I can’t come tonight because I have stupid showcase rehearsal! I want to be there to see the look on their huffy little faces when the girls watching the game realize Mateo Alvarez is officially claimed.”

I say, “Teegs, don’t be ridiculous,” at the same time that Amaya says, “I’ll take a video.”

I roll my eyes at both of them.

Amaya made me promise to do extra hours of pomping on the homecoming float with her today in exchange for accompanying me to the soccer match, so we have plenty of time to catch up just the two of us as we stick squares of tissue paper through chicken wire. She fills me in how her mom is doing, and what companies have caught her eye to apply with after graduation. Amaya’s innate drive to succeed has elevated AOPi to the next level, and I have zero doubts that she’ll do the same in whatever company has the good sense to snatch her up.

Amaya asks a lot of questions about my family, especially Dean. She knows what it’s like to be mixed up with the wrong crowd, so she takes to heart the struggles we’re having getting through to him. Seeing where she is now gives me hope for Dean.

My back and my hands are starting to cramp after spending so much time pomping, but I’m grateful for the chance to hang out and talk with Amaya. She’s so busy running the world, it can be hard for us to have quality time together.

After dinner, I’m getting dressed in jeans and Mateo’s jersey over a long-sleeve shirt when Teegan comes up behind me in the mirror. “Lana, you are drowning in that jersey,” she says with disapproval.

“Well, Beef, not sure if you’ve noticed this, but Mateo is a good six inches taller than me and has significantly larger upper body muscles,” I counter sarcastically.

“I have, in fact, noticed these things,” Teegan says with a teasing smile, and I elbow her in the ribs. She pulls the jersey tighter around my waist and secures a knot at the base of my back. “Don’t worry, you can still see the name and number clearly.”

I know it’s killing Teegan not to come tonight, so I let her re-curl the waves into my hair and style it in a half-up bun. She adds a little shimmery eyeshadow to my eyes and a small cat eye before humming her approval. “Please take some pictures. Promise me.”

Laughing, I pull her into a tight hug. “I promise. Now go do awesome at showcase rehearsal so AOPi can embarrass TriAlpha with how good we are this year.”

“Now that’s a mission I can get behind.”

Amaya and I arrive early, but so have a large crowd of students already, probably since the team we’re playing tonight beat us last year. We take our seats in the same place that Teegan and I sat last time. The teams are still out on the field doing warm-up drills, so Amaya and I sit and chat while we wait. “I promised Teegan to send her a couple of photos, so let’s get a selfie or two before the match starts,” I tell Amaya, who pulls out her phone in response.

“Hold on, let me pull your hair to the front of your shoulders so Teegan can admire her handiwork,” Amaya says. I smile into the phone as Amaya holds it above our heads, angling down at us.

“Okay, sassy faces,” she says as she holds the phone down, angled up at us. Amaya makes a kissy face and I give an open-mouthed smile with my hands framing my chin while looking up away from the screen. “Perfection,” Amaya comments as she zooms in on the photo. “Teegan will love this one. ”

I tilt her phone toward me after she sends the picture to Teegan to examine the photos. In our “sassy” pose, Amaya positioned the camera to get us in the bottom corner with a clear view of a group of girls behind us in the background. A group of girls scowling at the back of my head, or more accurately, my shirt.

“Teegan is having too much of an influence on you,” I tell Amaya, giving her major side eye.

“Hey, I’m just following through on my promises,” Amaya quips. “Loyalty is a valuable quality in a best friend.”

I can’t help but laugh as I look back out at the field. The teams are headed to the sidelines, and Mateo finds me quickly in the crowd with a wide grin. I give him a bigger wave this time and settle into the undercurrent of excitement rolling through the crowd. Because of AOPi chapter meetings, I can never attend the Wednesday soccer matches, so I have extra energy built up for this one. Even though Wednesday’s match ended in a tie, we’re still technically undefeated.

Play begins, and I can tell it’s going to be a physical game. Opponents are practically body-checking our guys, but we’re not backing down. A few questionable no-calls hint that the refs are going to let a lot of things go, which only ups the physicality of the match.

One of our defenders disrupts the opponents’ pass and kicks the ball up field to Mateo, increasing the volume of the Townsend stands. I can already feel my voice starting to go hoarse. The defender on Mateo is shoving like crazy, which makes me want to run out there and kick him. Mateo, however, keeps his cool and control of the ball. He pushes off the defender enough to kick a beautifully arced cross to the box, where one of our forwards is waiting to boot it into the goal.

Amaya and I are on our feet screaming our hearts out along with the rest of the Townsend fans. “That’s a goal for Jamar Brown after a perfect assist from Mateo Alvarez!” the announcer yells as the team celebrates together on the field.

At two minutes left till halftime, the opponents are passing down the field toward our goal. I’m jittery with nerves as they get closer and closer to the box, effectively passing around our defenders. Our keeper is poised and ready, but this offensive run is looking too smooth for comfort.

One of their forwards passes to another striker, who sends the ball sailing past our keeper into the net. The student section groans with disappointment, but I’m on my feet yelling in a frustrated voice. “OFFSIDE! He was offside by a mile!!”

The line judge raises the offside flag, and the point is taken off the board for the other team. I clap and cheer along with the crowd as the time runs out for the first half.

Taking my seat next to Amaya, I turn to see her looking at me with both eyebrows raised. “So, you were like, really into soccer, weren’t you.” She says it as more of a statement than a question, and I shrug one shoulder in response.

“I’ve never seen you so enthusiastic about anything, except maybe law school. If you loved soccer so much, why’d you quit?” Amaya asks.

I consider how to explain my past choice. “I suppose I just saw it as an all-or-nothing thing. It was time to move on to my future career, so I left soccer behind to make way for becoming a lawyer.”

Amaya considers this and nods. “That tracks with your personality. You certainly approach things with intensity.”

It’s an accurate statement. “Yeah, I guess the same intensity I used to play soccer I then channeled into trying to forget soccer. I’m not saying it was the right move, or that I wouldn’t go back and change it, but that’s how my brain approached it at the time,” I conclude.

“Well, Miss Soccer Pro, what the heck does offside mean? You were all worked up but I don’t get it at all,” Amaya says.

Amaya loves football, so I explain it to her in a way that will track for her. “Okay, pretend the soccer offside rule applies to football. Imagine the quarterback is getting ready to throw a pass to a receiver.” Amaya is nodding along; I’m definitely speaking her language now. “If football had the same rules as soccer, then when they’re on the opponent’s half of the field and the quarterback is throwing the ball, the receiver has to have at least one defender between him and the goal line. After the ball leaves the quarterback’s hand, it’s okay if the receiver is faster and runs behind the defender to catch the ball and score. But he can’t run behind the defenders until after the ball is thrown, or he’s offside and no touchdown. What counts is when the pass is made, not when it’s caught. Does that make sense?”

Amaya nods. “Yep, it does. That rule kinda sucks though.”

I laugh. “It does when you’re on offense! But it keeps the game more interesting and competitive because a player can’t just hang out right next to the goal the whole time. There has to be more strategy and passing that way.”

The teams take the field to begin the second half, so we turn our attention back to the match. There’s evidently a lot of heated trash talk going on as players start getting more and more chippy.

We’re still up 1-0, but the opposing team has the ball on our half of the field. Chris makes an amazing steal and sends the ball to the other side, where Mateo settles the pass. He dribbles straight down the field, juking a defender and making a breakaway toward the box. He shoots hard at the goal, but it’s blocked by the keeper. However, the sheer force of the kick ricochets the soccer ball off the keeper’s body, and Mateo taps the ball in on the second attempt to score.

I’m jumping, yelling, screaming, and chest bumping with Amaya as Mateo is mobbed by the team celebrating with him. The opposing players are visibly frustrated and upset, understandable since they’re now behind 2-0.

The clock is winding down with only a few minutes left, and our players are putting together another good offensive run. Andrès and Mateo are both within the box, fighting defenders for position. A pass is made to Mateo, and he fields it and pivots to either shoot or pass, but a defender runs full speed at him and knocks into him, tripping his legs before he can kick. Mateo rolls to the ground as the Townsend fans are up in arms.

I’m the first to my feet, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Re-fer-REE! Red card, red card!!” Andrès is up in the player’s face, who’s being held back by a teammate, and Jamar helps Mateo to his feet. Mateo immediately gets between the defender and Andrès, backing him away with an arm across his chest. Finally, the center ref runs over and holds up a yellow card to the offending player, and signals a penalty kick for Mateo.

At this point in the match, it’s nearly impossible for the other team to come back to beat or even tie us. But after that flagrant foul, I’m seeing red, and I want Mateo to get a successful PK just to rub it in the defender’s face. Hey, I never claimed to be calm or rational about soccer. Or Mateo, at this point.

The goalie crouches at the ready as Mateo positions the ball, but then I swear he looks over his shoulder at the stands, a smile on his face. He takes a few large steps back from the ball, and takes a running approach—right before he Jorginho hops and sends the ball into the net.

Townsend fans erupt, glad to see the opponents put in their place after such a heated match. Amaya and I are high-fiving as Mateo turns and meets my eyes in the stands, grinning and giving a little hop kick right before he’s mobbed by teammates. I’m smiling ear-to-ear clapping, and Amaya elbows me in the side. “Ooo girl, you’ve got it bad.”

Our team wildly celebrates their decisive victory after the final whistle blows, Mateo at the center of the mosh pit of players. Since I’m staying at the complex to meet Mateo, Amaya and I wait in the stands for the crowd to exit. I explain when a penalty kick is awarded and yellow cards vs. red cards to her. We eventually head down to the parking lot, and I hug her before she gets in her car.

“Thanks for coming with me, Amaya. I know soccer isn’t your thing, but I’m glad I had a Beef to watch it with,” I tell her.

“Football is definitely more my speed, but I can’t deny that was exciting to watch. Or maybe you were just exciting to watch,” she says with a smirk. I fake punch her in the arm and walk away smiling.

I follow Mateo’s directions to the area outside the locker room doors and see three other girls waiting. They’re talking and laughing like they know each other already. I feel a little nervous approaching the group, but try to act like I fit in.

One of the girls hears me coming and turns to greet me. “Hey! I’m Linh. You must be Lana. Mateo told my boyfriend, Shawn, that you’d be hanging out.”

Her welcome calms my nerves, and the other girls are also smiling, so I step closer. They introduce themselves as Samantha and Reagan, girlfriends of Jorge and Jamar, respectively. They ask how long Mateo and I have been dating, so I tell them just a few weeks.

“And you’ve already got the girlfriend jersey—Mateo must be serious,” Reagan says. “I think Jamar and I had been dating for almost four months before he gave me his jersey to wear!”

I start to blush, but Linh speaks up to rescue me from embarrassment about Mateo by pointing out my screaming at the game. “Didn’t I hear you yelling all sorts of stuff at the refs?” she teases.

Embarrassment redirected, I confess my soccer history and enthusiasm, which opens the floodgates of questions. These girls are obviously supportive of their boyfriends but unfamiliar with the rules of soccer. They’re listening intently as I explain how they determine if it’s a throw-in, corner kick, or goal kick when we hear the locker room doors opening.

The first player to emerge must be Jorge, because Samantha launches herself at him, jumping up with her legs wrapped around his waist. A couple of other guys come out the doors, and then Jamar makes his way over to Reagan. They immediately begin intensely making out. Even Linh, who seemed a little more reserved, is affectionately greeting Shawn with her hands in his hair and his in her back pockets.

I’m starting to panic as I see Mateo come out the door, feeling totally unsure about how to approach him with all these very public displays of affection going on around me. His absurd ability to look unbelievably attractive in Nike joggers and a team hoodie is doing nothing to quell the whirling butterflies .

I don’t have to panic for long because Mateo confidently strides over and envelops me in a hug. I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe in his freshly-showered scent with my eyes closed. Mateo holds me in the hug for a long moment before leaning his mouth right next to my ear and speaking in a low voice. “You look super hot wearing my jersey.”

My face floods with heat as he pulls back to look at me with a mischievous smile, then he brushes his knuckles across my flushed cheek. “And now you look super adorable.”

My brain is nowhere to be found at the moment. I can’t come up with two words to string together in response. I’m saved from my brain’s hiatus by Jamar’s voice calling out, “Yo, Mateo, your girl is the best!”

Mateo releases me but keeps an arm around my shoulders, locking me to his side as he responds. “I obviously know that, but what makes you say so?”

“Reagan just correctly explained the difference between a throw-in and corner kick,” Jamar says with his hands around Reagan’s waist. She’s beaming at the praise.

“Yeah, not to mention all that accurate grief she gave to the refs,” Chris adds with a grin.

All eyes are on me, and Mateo must sense my discomfort at the attention. He pulls me back into his arms with my face buried in his chest and teases his teammates. “Too bad, she’s one thousand percent taken, so go find your own soccer expert girlfriends.”

Everyone laughs and starts dispersing to vehicles. Mateo smiles down at me as he trails his hand down my arm to take my hand. I shiver head to toe despite the heat still lingering in my face from all the attention—from both Mateo and the crowd.

“We’re headed to Mom’s Kitchen for late-night breakfast food—that okay with you?” Mateo asks as he leads me toward his truck. “I’ve never known you to turn it down at After Parties,” he adds with a wink.

“People who turn it down have clinical issues, I think,” I laugh. “There’s nothing breakfast food can’t fix.”

As we drive across town to the diner, I fangirl over all of Mateo’s incredible plays during the match, drawing a pleased smile from him. He confirms that he did indeed hear all my screaming from across the field, and commends me for following through on my threats.

“You’ve stolen my favorite celebration and my favorite PK strategy, so what do you plan to steal next?” I ask him in a teasing tone. Mateo’s eyes are on the road, but the right side of his mouth gently upturns. “Whatever you’ll give me, Lana.” I smile back at his profile in the dark.

A few of the players have beat us to Mom’s Kitchen and pushed several tables together to make room for everyone. Mateo guides me with his hand on the small of my back and pulls out a chair in the middle for me before sitting down. Sigh.

The volume level of the diner drastically increases as the table fills and everyone enthusiastically recounts highlights of the night’s match. I order decaf, because coffee is an essential component of breakfast food, but I certainly don’t need caffeine to add to my energy right now.

The waitress is at the end of the table, starting to take food orders, so Mateo leans over to me. “Short stack of pancakes?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised when he knows exactly what I’ll order at any given place, but I still shake my head in disbelief.

“Do you keep notes of all my favorites on your phone?” I tease. He just taps twice on his temple with a wry smile. “What are you getting? Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who orders egg white health food at ten o’clock at night.”

Mateo laughs, and the waitress catches our attention. I order a short stack of pancakes with a toss of my head and side eye at Mateo. “I’ll have the strawberry French toast, please,” Mateo says, handing the waitress our menus. Phew—crisis averted.

We rejoin the group conversation, and I’m impressed in a new way by Mateo’s people skills. He’s undoubtedly the leader of the team, with rapport and respect from all the guys, but he’s quick to turn conversation around to point out the good plays of other teammates. Mateo also draws me into the discussion easily without making me the center of attention, which I’m grateful for. I could sit here as a fly on the wall just observing Mateo with his friends all night.

Multiple wait staff arrive with trays of food, and I offer Mateo the syrup after drizzling my pancakes. Mateo douses his French toast before giving me a quick wink. “Every good athlete appreciates some post-game sugar,” he says before taking a bite.

Despite the arrival of the food, there’s no lull in conversation as the group continues in high spirits, alternately praising and razzing each other. I’m starting to cement names with faces of the players that I didn’t know before tonight.

When his French toast is finished, Mateo casually places his arm across the back of my chair. I draw in a breath when he reaches over with his left hand to grab mine and pulls it over to rest our hands on his thigh under the table. I never want to lose the tingly sensation that washes through me every time he takes my hand.

All eyes are on Mateo as he recounts a funny story about Andrès from practice this week. Everyone explodes with laughter, and the guys next to Andrès playfully shove him. A shiver runs from my scalp down my neck and back, and I register that Mateo is absentmindedly twirling his fingers through my hair. I look over and study him as he’s answering a question from Samantha, and I can’t help but smile at the thought that this incredible man is my boyfriend.

I’m piecing together the vibes of the team. If they were a Venn diagram, Mateo would be dead center of the overlap. All these people around the table clearly think the world of Mateo, not just because of his athleticism, but because of his character. And he likes me . My brain still has a hard time reconciling that fact, but I just smile as Mateo looks back at me. I angle toward him and lean my right elbow on the table, resting the side of my face against my hand as I hold his gaze.

Mateo gently trails his fingers up and down my hair against my back, and his face turns serious as his eyes flicker with intensity. The rest of the room fades as we wordlessly stare at each other, the look in Mateo’s eyes melting me. Forget molten lava—all my internal organs have straight up evaporated into steam.

We’re snapped back to reality by the waitress handing out checks. Mateo clears his throat and takes both of ours, instructing the waitress to put both on his card.

Bro hugs and slaps on the back are freely given around the table as everyone stands up, as well as real hugs between the girlfriends, who invite me to sit with them at a match sometime. Mateo leads the charge in returning the tables and chairs to their original set up, then everyone calls out goodnight.

As we walk hand in hand back to the truck, I bite the inside of my lip, trying to decide if now is a good time to make a somewhat serious request. Finally, I clear my throat and timidly question, “Could I ask you to do something?”

Mateo pauses to turn to me and replies, “Lana, you never need to be nervous to ask me anything. I think it’s pretty evident that I would do everything for you.”

I stop worrying my lip and tell him, “Next weekend, my parents will be in town for some events at AOPi. I know you have an away match on Saturday, but I was wondering if you’d maybe like to join us for dinner or something on Friday night? They’d really like to meet you.”

He pulls me to a full stop and into a hug, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I would be honored to meet your parents, Lana. It means a lot that you’d want me to.” I breathe out a contented sigh (after a deep inhale of his scent, because what choice do I have). He takes a step back, hands on my elbows. “We should be done with practice by five, so just tell me where and when.”

Mateo turns on his Lana playlist in the truck but is quiet on the drive to AOPi, still holding my hand. I’m deep in self-reflection mode as Mateo’s thumb traces lines along my wrist. Although I’d obsessively liked Aaron the past two years, he’d never looked at me with such open tenderness that my lungs couldn’t find space to inhale. He never made me feel so confident in myself the way Mateo has done since the first day he shared that he liked me. I could never feel sure about anything with Aaron because I never knew what he was thinking. I’m starting to wonder if what started out as a legitimate crush on Aaron snowballed into a crush on having a crush.

It still feels a little implausible that I could go from never thinking of Mateo to constantly thinking of Mateo in just five weeks, yet here I am. And I don’t intend to stop.