Chapter Fifty-Eight
My knees buckle beneath me under the weight of the Mayhem’s fullback, but my smile is still fully intact when I hit the moist ground with a painful thud.
My gaze swings over to the stands, searching for the Olympic team’s recruiter. I find her the moment the ball makes it into the net.
I don’t see it happen, but I know it does because my teammates are screaming, Rafael the loudest of them all, and then there’s the fact that Lorelle Laurent herself is standing, her eyes locked on the goaltender, and in that sweet, beautiful moment of victory, her clenched jaw unhinges as she whoops loudly, bending in half with a relieved expression.
I don’t think recruiters are supposed to be this biased, but how could you not be? I’m about to be the best footballer of my fucking generation, and not only do I know it, but now she does too.
The rest of the game is much the same. I’m pushing myself further than I’d ever have thought possible, scoring goal after goal, making the last game of my university career the best it can be.
Between Rafael cheering me on, Lorelle being in attendance, and the sheer adrenaline coursing through me, I’m on fucking fire tonight.
We’re in the final seconds of the game, our score nearly double that of the Mayhem’s, but it isn’t enough for me. I have one more in me.
I know I do, so I drag my aching, tired muscles across the pitch, whipping past the defensive line as my heart pounds in my chest, threatening to explode behind my ribcage with the force of my movements.
The Mayhem’s players grab for me in a failed attempt to slow me down, but not today.
Today I have my eyes on the prize, and absolutely no one is going to stop me.
I rush toward the goalie, and without a second thought, my foot connects with the ball for the last time before it sails through the air.
The movement was so strong, and thanks to a midafternoon rain shower, the wet pitch landed me on my ass, but this time I get to watch from the ground as the ball makes it into the bottom left-hand corner of the net.
My cheeks burn from the smile causing my facial muscles to cramp as I flop on my back, staring up at the overcast sky, the sun peeking out from a grey cloud. My heart rate starts to slow down as my chest heaves from exertion.
Everything happening around me seems to slow to a crawl; the sounds of my teammates’ cheers become muffled as this sweet, blissful moment washes over me.
It isn’t until Rafael and my dad are dropping to their knees beside me, their faces lit up as Rafael physically shakes me, pulling me up into his arms, that I snap out of the quiet moment.
“You were stellar, Elise. Fucking stunning,” he says, clearing his throat when he realises my dad is beside us, “performance. A stunning performance on the pitch for your final uni game,” he finishes, releasing me abruptly. I have to bite my lip to contain the laughter bubbling up inside me.
“Thanks, Coach,” I manage to choke out, turning toward my dad, whose brow is quirked, but his lips are still stretched in a wide smile. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he clutches me tightly.
“I’ve never been more proud, Elise,” he says. “You were unstoppable out there.” His next words come out as a whisper, spoken into my messy hair so only I can hear them. “Your maman and Rachelle would be so incredibly proud,” he says, his voice cracking.
My throat feels tight as my eyes burn with unshed tears. “I think so too,” I croak.
The moment passes quickly as my teammates rush over to pull me up, still shrieking over the rush of our final win together.
Just as I’m headed to the locker room, I hear an unfamiliar voice call my name, stopping me in my tracks.
“Elise! Elise, I’d love to have a quick chat with you,” she says, and as I turn, my eyes land on Lorelle Laurent.
She waits until I jog up the pitch, stopping a couple feet in front of her and extending my hand.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Elise. I’m Lorelle Laurent from the Embershire women’s football Olympic team. ”
I shake her hand firmly, the goofy grin overtaking my face refusing to be toned down. “It’s great to meet you too, Ms. Laurent. Thanks for coming out today.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” she says, her lips turning up in a wide smile. “Truly, that was an unbelievable match. I have a feeling I’ll be telling my grandchildren about you someday.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks. “Well, I certainly hope so.”
“Me too. Listen, I’ll let you get showered, but here’s my card,” she says, passing the small rectangular paper to me as if it’s nothing.
As if this isn’t the day I’ve been waiting for my entire life.
“I got your information from your coach, so you’ll be hearing from me soon, but tryouts for the twenty twenty-eight Olympic team are starting soon, and I’d like you to be there. ”
“I’d like that very much. Ah, sorry, I mean, thank you so much for the opportunity.” Come on, Elise, stop being so awkward.
“Hey, again, it was great chatting with you, and we’ll talk soon,” she says, giving me a little wave before she turns back toward the exit.
It isn’t until I’m in the locker room that I allow myself to get lost in this overwhelming high.
My teammates are all completely silent as I enter, their eyes locked on me, waiting for something, anything .
“THEY WANT ME!” I shout, and chaos ensues. The locker room erupts in cheers and shouts, and once again, I’m being tackled to the ground, but this time, it’s by their love and support.
I’m practically floating through the motions of showering and changing before we leave for the last time. It’s so surreal.
“Alright, hotshot. What would you like to do tonight to celebrate our last big win together?” Chelsea asks, and I expected those words to hurt, to act as a reminder that while I’ve gotten almost everything I’ve ever wanted this year, I won’t be playing the sport I love with the people I love.
But before I can take myself to that place, Letty speaks up.
“Look at the four of us,” she says, slinging an arm over mine and Chelsea’s shoulder.
“We’re all getting everything we want out of life.
I’m starting my internship, Chelsea has her culinary school plans lined up, and Adhira got accepted at her top-choice physician assistant program.
And we can’t forget about our fearless leader who’ll be playing in the premier leagues soon and is getting appointed for the Olympic team, where she’ll allow the past three years of her education to wither away. ”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last bit,” I joke, nudging her in the side with my elbow.
We’re all getting everything we want for our careers, and there’s almost nothing better.
“What do you say we celebrate by watching some perky rugby ass and getting sloshed at the pub after?”
“Perky rugby ass?” I ask, my brow raised in question.
“Yeah, Coach’s team came out to watch us; I figured we could repay the favour,” Letty suggests.
“Well, alright then, it’s settled. Rugby thighs, on three!” Chelsea yells, putting her hand in the centre of our group with her palm toward the ground. We all roll our eyes but reluctantly join in.
“One, two, three,” she says as we shout, “rugby thighs!”
Laughter fills the space as we make our exit, heading home to change just in time to make it to the Wyvern’s match.