Chapter Eleven Rowan
Chapter Eleven
Rowan
“Your dad is trying to kill us,” I tell Vaughn in the locker room after practice. Every muscle in my body hurts. We did conditioning, followed by weight training, and then an hour of defensive drills.
He laughs softly. “Yeah. You and everyone else who didn’t work out all summer.”
I flip him off, then look to Austin for some solidarity, but he doesn’t look like he’s in as rough shape as me either.
“Are you going to be ready for Friday?” Austin asks. He looks nervous or worried on my behalf.
“I’ll be fine.” I wave off his concern.
“Good. Because we’re going to need you,” Vaughn says. He has his captain stare on point.
“Question. Do you think I can borrow a new pair of lungs for the game?” I ask no one in particular.
It does the trick of making him laugh and stopping him from spiraling. It’s too early in the week to start worrying about our game.
I finish changing, grab my bag, and shut my locker. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”
As I’m leaving out the back doors, I spot Summer still out on the soccer field. The girls’ practice ended an hour ago, so why is she still here?
I walk out toward her. She’s dribbling the ball down the field, practicing her footwork. I smile when she attempts the Cruyff turn. She does it, sort of, but not seamlessly enough, and she stumbles over the ball. She lets out a grunt of annoyance and slows her pace to regain control.
“Give it up, Lindsey. It’s almost dark,” I call out to her.
Her head pops up and she pauses and turns to face me.
“I thought you already left,” she says as I walk out onto the field.
“Same. Weren’t you done like an hour ago?”
She nods. “I don’t work tonight, and I wanted to get some more practice in before our game.”
“You guys play Thursday, right?”
She smiles. “Yeah. We got our uniforms today.”
I’m just noticing she’s wearing it. The blue color looks good on her. I bet she hates it.
“I know. I know,” she says as if reading my thoughts. “My friends are never going to forgive me.”
“Sure they will.”
She grunts, then looks down at her jersey. “It’s more comfortable than the ones we had at Oakley. We had these super old hand-me-downs from the nineties.”
“I vaguely remember them.”
“Are you heading home?” she asks, shifting uncomfortably like it just occurred to her to feel awkward in front of me. We had first and fourth period together and she sat with me at lunch, but I get the feeling she still isn’t quite sure how to exist around me.
“That was the plan.” I jut my chin toward the ball. “What’s yours? Stay until they kick you off the field?”
“Will they do that?” Her eyes widen.
A chuckle loosens in my chest. “What are you working on?”
“Dribbling under pressure.”
I look around like I’m searching for the pressure.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m trying to add some new stuff to help me on offense. I need to contribute more if I’m going to catch the eye of scouts.”
I nod slowly. She talks like Vaughn and Austin. And Amanda.
“Right. FLU bound.”
“Maybe. Their roster is so good, and Coach Endrews is incredible.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.”
She looks a bit sheepish but just shrugs.
“Soccer means a lot to you.”
“It’s everything.”
“Did you start playing because of Silas?”
“No. He started playing because of me,” she says, sounding a little smug. “We each got to pick one summer camp each year and we both attended. I picked soccer.”
“What’d Silas pick?”
She scrunches up her face in disgust. “Golf.”
“I cannot picture him playing golf.” He’s such a hothead, and golf is so quiet and a little pretentious.
“That’s probably the last time he did.” She smiles again. “We both ended up loving soccer, and that was that.”
It’s still hard for me to wrap my brain around her and Silas being related.
“I talked to him this morning,” she says.
“Yeah? He went to Arizona for college, right?” Valley U has a good soccer team, and it’s blessedly a long way from Frost Lake.
“That’s right. Surprised you know that, given your deep hatred and rivalry.”
“I don’t hate your brother.” I don’t like him very much either, but I keep that to myself.
“Well, he hates you. Even more now that he knows we’re dating.”
My jaw drops. Summer nods, brows lifted as she lets the knowledge that her brother found out about us sink in.
“How?”
“Someone sent him the photo you posted,” she says.
“Oh shit. I wasn’t thinking.” I run a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry.”
A shiver works its way down my spine. No wonder I’ve felt off all day. I bet he’s plotting my demise right now.
“It’s fine. I told him the truth.”
“The truth?”
“Yes. It was the only way to keep him from completely losing his shit.”
“Fuck.” My mind spins. It figures that the only person who knows Summer and I are fake dating is the person who dislikes me the most. “He’s going to tell everyone.”
“He won’t. I made him promise.”
I must not look convinced because she says it again. “He won’t tell anyone. He might not like you, but he loves me. Outing you would make me look bad too.”
I fall quiet and she gives me a second to think it through. I don’t trust him as much as she does, but there isn’t much I can do but hope he’s more loyal to his sister than I’d expect.
“Well, fuck. I think I’ve aged ten years.” I let out a long breath.
Summer gives me a small smile.
“Do you want some defense?” I ask. I’m not sure why. Maybe because it’s better than going home and sitting alone. My parents are gone on some business trip again.
“Really?” Her eyes light up.
“Yeah, but you have to take it easy on me. Practice was brutal today. Coach C has it out for us.”
“Coach Collins is a genius. I’d kill to have someone like him giving me tips.”
“Of course you would.” I keep forgetting how hardcore she is. I toss my bag toward the sideline and move in front of her.
She’s practically giddy with excitement as she rests her right foot on top of the ball. She waits, like she’s giving me time to prepare, then she breaks toward the goal.
Maybe I should have better prepared because my muscles protest as I fight to keep in front of her. She has that forearm pressed against me and her ponytail whips into my face. I get a mouthful and she elbows me in the gut.
“You’re as mean as your brother on the field.”
“Awww. Thank you,” she says sweetly, then tries a step over. I’m a hair faster and kick it away.
She grunts as she fights for possession. She doesn’t have to try that hard because I’m using all my energy to keep between her and the goal.
This time, I give her a little more space to see what she can do. She’s quick, dribbling and pushing me down the field. When I think she’s in range of the goal, I tighten up my defense.
“Whatcha got, Lindsey?” I ask, invading her space. When she tries to push me away, I push right back. “That’s it. Get mad.”
She doesn’t meet my gaze, but she glares anyway. It makes me chuckle.
“Sell the fake. It’s all in your acting skills.”
She considers that for a second, then does it.
“Nice. Do it again.”
I stay right with her, but I try not to anticipate and react as if I don’t know what’s coming next.
“Take your time but try not to telegraph so much. If you have control, then you have all the time in the world. Make the defenders come to you and it’ll create openings.”
She keeps at it. We move from one side of the field to the other and back. I’m not sure how long we’re at it, but I’ve forgotten about the ache of my muscles and the sun has set. The only lights are coming from around the school and the parking lot.
I kick the ball from her again. She lets out a growl of frustration.
“I think we should call it, Lindsey. You’re tired.”
“I’m fine.”
“Then I’m tired.”
She relents, though she doesn’t look happy about it. She kicks the ball up and catches it.
“What?” she asks when she realizes I’m staring at her.
“Nothing.”
She gives me a look that calls bullshit.
“You’re good. Maybe better than your brother.”
“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”
“Your brother was all-state. I’m sure he had his pick of colleges trying to recruit him.”
She still looks annoyed by the comparison. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean he’s better.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“He didn’t have to switch schools his senior year or have teammates who think he’s a spy.” She takes a breath and then opens her mouth like she’s going to keep going.
I hold up a hand. “I know. I was trying to pay you a compliment. You’re good. Great even.”
“But?” She cocks her head to the side.
A laugh bursts out of me. “No but, Lindsey.”
She studies me for a beat then smiles, lifting her chin.
“Thanks, Rowan. You’re great too,” I mock in a higher pitched voice.
“You’re not terrible.”
“That was hard to admit, wasn’t it?”
“So painful.”
Laughing, we walk off the field side by side.
“Thank you,” she says as I reach down to pick up my bag. The scream of my muscles is back. I’m going to pay for the bonus workout.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Heading home?” she asks.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah, my mom is probably pissed I missed dinner. Every night six thirty on the dot.”
“That sounds nice.” I can’t remember the last time my family had dinner together at home. And we certainly never had a routine that etched in stone.
“You don’t have family dinners?”
“My parents work a lot,” I admit. “I’m sure they left something for me.”
And by “they” I mean the chef who drops off food twice a week.
“Okay, well…” She looks at me like she doesn’t know what to say again. “See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow, girlfriend.” I wink at her.
“That is so weird,” she mutters.
* * *
“Pssst.” I lean forward to get Summer’s attention.
We’re in fourth period, academic prep. I typically use the time to catch up on sleep or finish any last-minute homework, but Summer is head down, studying for a test that isn’t until next week.
“Yeah?” she asks without looking up.
“Pick a color.”
“Excuse me?” She finally looks back over her shoulder.
I’m holding out the fortune catcher with a grin.
“No way. How retro are you?”
“Says the girl who wears a mood ring.” I shake my paper creation at her. “Pick a color.”
“Green.”