Chapter 12 #4
But that had been beautiful. And when Kulti turned around with the smuggest triumphant smile I would probably ever see, and that was saying something considering I’d played against some pretty egotistical people, it pleased me.
It went straight into my sternum because it was so…
him. It wasn’t the blank indifferent man I’d seen so many times over the course of the last month.
“One-zero, Taco,” he said like I was an idiot and had no idea what the score was.
Just like that, that pleased feeling in my chest that had appreciated the joy of his brief triumph disappeared.
Had he…?
“Taco? Really?” I wanted to laugh, as demeaning as the nickname was, but I’d kind of asked for it, hadn’t I?
He shrugged in acknowledgment.
I waved him on. “All right, pumpernickel. Come on, six more to go.”
YEAH, we only made it to four-three, and even then it was a miracle we hadn’t keeled over.
“You look like you could use a break.” How the hell I managed to get that out in one sentence, I had no idea. I was wheezing. He was wheezing. When the hell was the last time I’d breathed like that? Never?
Kulti was soaked in sweat, and on top of that, his face was a little pale. “I’m fine.”
Fine? He looked like he wanted to puke. I’d also noticed that his right quad was pulsing. Why I noticed that, why I’d even looked down there, I had no idea. But I wasn’t going to think about it either.
“Positive?” I stuck my tongue as far out of my mouth as I could and took a deep breath to calm down. Ugly, but it worked, and my lungs thanked me for it.
He rolled his eyes but kept struggling to catch his breath. Jeez. Were we really playing that roughly? “Unless… you want to.”
I did. I did want to. I had no idea how I was going to push a lawnmower even if it was self-propelled. This was too much, and I’d been stupid for putting myself through it. But fuck if I was going to admit it. “I do if you do.”
His cheeks were puffing full and empty, reminding me of a frog. “You’re… losing. I don’t care.”
I was losing and that sucked, but later on, I could pat myself on the back for hanging in there as long as I had. So I shrugged at him.
He lifted his eyebrows in return but didn’t agree to anything.
“You choose.” Please say yes. Please say yes.
Kulti took a deep inhale through his nose. “You look like you’re about to pass out,” he noted.
Asshole.
I was losing, and apparently, I looked like I was going to pass out. Please, compliment me more.
I hoped his knee was sore later.
“I don’t think you should overdo it either.” I smiled, biting back my words. “Since you haven’t played forever and all.”
He started chewing on the inside of his cheek from the way his facial muscles moved.
It’s the little victories in life that really mattered. Sticking my tongue out once again and sucking in another ragged breath, I calmed down a little more. My head was gently throbbing from how exerted I was, and I reached up to rub at my temples.
The German slowly hunched over until his palms rested just above his knees and took deep breaths. His eyes were on the grass before slowly moving them up. His shirt was plastered to his shoulders and his biceps, his hair matted down to his scalp.
Neither one of us said anything for a while.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I bent over to do a quick stretch of my hamstrings, then my quads, and finally my calves. When I straightened, I shook out my shoulders and watched as my coach straightened up and began to stretch. All those long, lean muscles….
I cleared my throat and looked at the sky. No need to make this awkward or give him a reason to rub his stupid win in my face. Would he do it? Yeah, he would. It was time for me to get the hell out of there and feed the goblin in my stomach.
“Well, I’m leaving now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I had just turned around and started to make my way off the field when he piped up. “You’re a good loser, Casillas!”
I started to shake my head as I walked off.
I kept shaking my head, even as I realized that he’d used my last name again.
“Someone finally got laid.”
I scrunched my face up and looked around. “Who? Phyllis?”
“Sal, that’s disgusting.” Harlow shuddered. “No. You know who I’m talking about,” she said with that look that said “you know who I’m talking about.”
“Heh.” I crossed my eyes at her and zeroed in on the overly aggressive bratwurst walking around the field, helping set up equipment with the rest of the staff.
This was normal, except for the fact that he was freaking sort of smiling.
It was as much of one as a man who had more in common with a robot was capable of, I guess.
Still, the smile went straight to my gut.
“Look at him. He looks happy. It’s weird and wrong, isn’t it?” she muttered under her breath.
It was weird and slightly wrong.
Tipping my head to the side, I kept rolling my socks up my shins and watched him for a second longer.
The smile didn’t last long, and there was something else different about his face, his entire demeanor.
He looked like a smug son of a bitch, the same smug son of a bitch that used to dominate the field.
Oh God. He was back. My gut said that he might have gotten laid, though he didn’t strike me as the type that sex would have made that big of a difference in him, but it was beyond that.
Those greenish-hazel eyes looked around the field as he shoved a big yellow obstacle into place, and he caught me looking at him. His eyelids lowered, and one corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile that was one fourth the size of a normal one. It morphed into a smirk a second later.
I knew what he was thinking: loser.
That smirk said it all, though. I was right. Maybe he’d gotten laid, and I didn’t really like the way that thought made my ears feel strange, but I knew why he’d been smiling.
Because maybe he’d kicked my ass the day before.
But the truth was, at least the version of the truth I wanted to accept, he’d finally played soccer for the first time in years.
And you know what? As much as I hated the fact that he’d won, I had to snicker to myself. You’re welcome, pumpernickel.
Damn that was annoying. He was annoying.
“Pssh. He probably stayed up doing inventory on his trophies last night.” I laughed.
Harlow snickered and laughed.
Waggling my eyebrows, I elbowed her in the side and gestured toward where the mini bands were located for stretching.
Jeez Louise, I was sore. I probably looked like a lumbering bear getting to my feet.
Busy adjusting my bun and headband so my bangs wouldn’t get into my face, I barely happened to look up just as I was passing by Gardner, Kulti, and Phyllis, the fitness coach.
“Morning,” I greeted them.
“Good morning,” Gardner replied.
Phyllis said something that was probably “Good morning.”
The German grunted, “Morning.” This stupid expression crossed his eyes, and I pretended to ignore him as I kept on walking. Well, it was more of a limp than a walk.
My limp only got more pronounced after the first half an hour of practice. It got so bad that I started daydreaming about actually taking an ice bath. I mean, who dreams about an ice bath?
The cherry topping on my sundae of pain happened when I jogged by Kulti. He shouted after me, “Are you planning on running any faster today, Casillas?”
It took everything inside of me not to flip him off with both my middle fingers.
Practice wasn’t the best. I was sore all over; my hamstrings were too tight, my shoulders were a little sore, and I was tired.
Yesterday had been too much. So yeah, I dragged ass.
It didn’t help that everyone pointed it out.
Two hours felt like ten, and by the time the equipment was put away, I was beyond struggling.
But I’d accomplished what I had set out to do, hadn’t I?
I’d gotten Scrooge to sort of smile, and he hadn’t talked a whole bunch of shit to me.
I might have lost our one-on-one, but I’d won the real battle.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when I heard a snicker. “You seemed to be struggling today.”
Slowly pushing up to my feet from the crouching position I was in, I instantly rolled my eyes at Kulti’s statement. He stood a few feet away, having pushed one of the heavy metal obstacles off to the side of the field.
“Oh, I’m perfect. How are you feeling?”
His mouth went into a straight line that said exactly how full of shit he thought I was. “Wonderful.”
So full of shit. “Oh yeah? I thought I saw you favoring your left leg a little bit, but I guess not.”
As if bringing it up made it hurt more, his leg jerked at the same time his eyes narrowed. Voice flat and dry, he said, “My leg is fine,” but he still had that funny look in his eye. As if he was only barely frustrated with his knee hurting—or in his case “not hurting.”
I purposely glanced at his knee and said, “Huh,” before looking right back at his face.
Tipping my chin up, I stared him right in the eye.
He seriously had the most intense face I had ever seen.
His gaze was unflinching and solid. If someone could have light sabers in their eyes, it would be him.
He had the demanding stare that boxers and fighters seemed to perfect when they were face-to-face with their opponent during weigh-ins.
Wait a second. Why was he looking at me like I was his enemy?
For one brief second, the idea bothered me. Later on, I’d wonder if I was just so subconsciously bored that having Kulti look at me like I was a real opponent was exciting. But then… I’d take it.
I smiled at him, no, smirked at him. I was pleased with myself.
His nostrils flared in response, and he just kept right on staring, head held high, neck elongated. He was such a proud asshole.
And as much as I would have enjoyed standing there, staring at him, I knew how important it was for me to do something about my body pain. I let my smile grow bigger and then took a few steps backward. “I’ll see you later, Coach.” Two more steps backward, I eyed his leg. “Keep off your leg.”
It wasn’t like he needed me to tell him what to do. Ha. I bet that was irritating.
Sure enough, he was a master at being just as equally irritating. “Make sure you ice down. I don’t need you being useless again next practice.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth and nodded. “You got it.”
THE NEXT DAY his limp was worse. Despite the ice bath I’d taken—which should be said even if you’ve taken one a hundred times before, it never stops sucking a massive amount of donkey nuts—I was still in pain everywhere.
And when Kulti spotted my bowlegged walking, just as I noticed how he kept taking weight off his left leg, we each just gave each other dirty looks.