CHAPTER 10
Scarlett had read a bit about Theo Ross’s playing style.
He had played the majority of his career as a goalkeeper, but he had also been known as a tactician—a player whose understanding of the game sometimes outweighed their ability to play.
However, this knowledge gave them the ability to play with meticulous precision, as had been the case with Theo.
On the other hand, Scarlett had always been a physical player, who had found the majority of her successes in accurate attacks during her career.
One of these attacks had led to her career-ending injury, but as much as it had broken her heart to leave the game as a player, she had always loved the style she played with.
Having found an extra pair of cleats in the gear closet, Scarlett hurried to lace up her shoes.
She had also found a pair of black shorts and a goalkeeper’s jersey and changed into them, so as not to ruin her own clothes.
She headed back out down the players’ tunnel, passing several exhausted players on her way.
A few pointed at her feet to show the others, causing them to stop.
“What’s all this?” Miles asked, a disbelieving sneer on his face. “Fancying joining the team now, are you?”
“No.”
“Come on, lads, into the showers with ya,” Gary said, coming up from behind. Spotting Scarlett, he stopped. “Having a bit of a game, are you?”
“Sort of,” she said, the prickling sensation rising on her neck as the other players gathered around her. She touched her necklace and began to slide it back and forth on the gold chain, before tucking it beneath her goalie shirt.
“You’re playing Ross?” Josh asked, coming up. “Why?”
“I’m trying to get something.”
“I bet she is,” Miles said, elbowing Aban, who was walking down the ramp without any shoes on.
That was strange, but so was Miles’s remark. Aban pushed him. “Don’t be making remarks about Simmons like that.”
“Yeah. Shut up, Miles,” Weeks said.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Miles said instantly, aware of the pack mentality. He gave Scarlett an apologetic look. “I was only joking.”
“I’m sure,” she said coolly before addressing the rest of them. “It’s a little friendly game of one-on-one. There’s no reason to concern yourselves about it.”
“Can we watch?” Weeks asked.
“Absolutely not,” Gary said. “Ross said that if he even hears a rumor that any of you lot came back out onto the field, he’ll bench you for three weeks. Now let’s go.”
Disappointed murmurs rolled through them, but Scarlett couldn’t help but give them an apologetic smile. It was like telling a bunch of children they had to stop watching TV and clean up for dinner.
To her surprise, Gary bent his head toward her. “Good luck. Er, a bit of advice?”
“What have you got?”
“He’s a righty, so stay on his left.”
It may have sounded insignificant, but a player often turned the same direction as their dominant hand.
Gary winked and followed the last of the players into the locker room.
“Give him hell, Simmons!” someone called out from the locker room as she headed up the ramp.
The rain had lightened again, but it was still drizzling.
The air was cooler now, and a hint of fog was developing over the field as Scarlett hurried out onto the pitch.
To the right, she saw Theo with his jacket and tie removed.
He was wearing cleats beneath his dress pants, and Scarlett guessed Aban had let him borrow his shoes.
Scarlett was glad she had changed and was a little disappointed with his lack of sincerity.
But then, this was only going to be a friendly little match, after all.
Theo had a ball, which he was moving with his foot back and forth, rolling and kicking, only to catch it before it went too far. The player in Scarlett wanted to be impressed, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that she was excited.
No. Not excited. That absolutely wasn’t what she was feeling. If anything, she should be annoyed that she even had to do something as silly as play a one-on-one game with a man who should have agreed to the very small request of sharing a field.
“Are you ready?” he asked, distracting her from her inner argument as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.
“Yes. But can you play with glasses?”
“Of course. What should we play to?”
“Three?”
“Should be easy.”
Scarlett controlled herself enough not to make a face at him. Instead, she reached up and, gathering her wet hair back, tied it into a ponytail. “Do you want to check it?”
“Sounds good,” he said, kicking the ball to the edge of the penalty arc. “Center line is out of bounds?”
“Yep,” she said as she stood with her back toward the rest of the field. “Ready?”
“Go.”
After faking right, Scarlett kicked the ball left, spinning around Theo as she executed a perfect Cruyff turn.
She rushed to gain control of the ball. Unsurprisingly, Theo was at her side in an instant, having been momentarily surprised by the start.
He moved in front of her, stopped fully, then spun out in an attempt to throw her off, but Scarlett’s entire focus was on the ball.
She kicked right, running toward it, and when Theo came up beside her again, she pushed into him and peeled out toward his left.
With a hard kick, she knocked it into the net.
“Yay,” she shouted, both arms in the air. She bounced up and down a few times before pointing both of her fingers at him. “Woo!”
“Oh God, you’re one of them.”
“One of who?”
“One of those insufferable players who hoots and hollers whenever they do the thing they were supposed to do.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Hardly,” Theo said, that familiar quirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “And I didn’t know we were playing rough.”
“Rough? Is that what you call it?”
“You fouled me.”
“I barely touched you.”
“Is this how you play in America?” he asked, amused as they repositioned themselves. “It’s shameful.”
He squinted at her, but then a mocking sneer crossed his face, and Scarlett couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing. “Those practice days are mine.”
“If you’re going to cheat, I’m not going to honor our bet.”
“I’m not cheating. You have to play better.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Go.”
Scarlett instantly regretted goading him, as she was met with a calculating player.
Theo was best known for being a keeper, but he had spent a good portion of his early years as a center back and was swift and purposeful with his footing, dribbling the ball with ease.
Not to be outdone, Scarlett was at his heels, trying to get in front of him, which he allowed with a stop-and-go move, although she only managed to bump into him.
“Keep your feet light, Simmons,” he taunted her, trying to lure her into a v-pull.
Refusing to commit to a tackle, Scarlett tried for a step over, but Theo rolled right, kicking the ball hard in an attempt to make a goal. He missed the corner, however, and it rolled out of bounds.
Scarlett grinned and nodded toward it. “Go get it.”
“It’s your ball—you get it.”
“I’m not winding myself because you can’t keep it in play.”
Theo rolled his eyes and ran after it as she followed him.
It had been a long time since she had played on a field.
The recovery after her accident had been arduous, and while she had managed to kick the ball back and forth a few times with some former players, she hadn’t actually played a game for goals in years, and she was a little surprised that she found this tête-à-tête with Theo so enjoyable.
Yes, she loved the game, but for years, it had been her job.
A job she loved, but a job nevertheless.
To be playing again, now, still for something but in a comparatively more relaxed setting—well, it made her genuinely happy.
A fact Theo seemed to notice.
“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked as he kicked the ball to her.
They swapped positions so that she was on the outside. “It’s been a while since I played a game, even one on one.”
“Really? Because you’re not bad.”
“I was great,” she corrected him again, delighted by the heated glint in his eyes. Theo responded to arrogance, but then her smile faltered. “I wish I could have continued.”
He didn’t respond, and she was glad he didn’t.
There really wasn’t anything anyone could say to that, but if she thought he might ease up on her, she was mistaken.
After the check he dove left, reading her fake, and hit the ball with his heel before curving around, arm out to stay her, and knocked it directly into the net.
“Goal!”
“You held me back!”
“You said there were no fouls.”
“I did not. I said I didn’t foul you, but what you did was obviously interference.”
He ran backward, hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, if you can’t play with a premier player, don’t come at me.”
“Former premier player,” she corrected him as she followed him back to the penalty arc. “And you can’t switch up tactics now. You’re not a physical player.”
One of his dark brows arched. “I’m not?”
“No,” she said confidently as they lined up. “I did my research. Theo ‘the Cat’ Ross plays smart, not hard.”
He bobbed his head, the faintest hint of color rising on his cheekbones. “Is that so?” he asked. “Well, you’ll have to forgive this, then.”
Checking the ball back to him, he didn’t wait to charge straight ahead, causing her to sidestep, but not before curling her toe around his ankle.
He fell to the ground and the ball went sailing to the left.
Running as fast as she could, she caught it and knocked it into the net as he picked himself up off the ground.
She twisted around, gleeful as he sauntered toward her, chest heaving.
“See? You don’t know what to do as a physical player.”
“Keep taunting me, and we’ll see about that.”
Scarlett laughed as she ran to get the ball and dribbled it back to the starting position. “One more goal, and the women get their morning practices.”