Chapter 39
Tessa
The week passes in a blur, and suddenly, it’s the weekend.
I ended up sleeping at the House of Stars every night.
Before Slater left town on Wednesday, he put an alarm on his door that will wake Quint and Zane if I open the door.
Thankfully, it hasn’t happened once. Monday night and Tuesday night, I worked security; so, Slater stayed nearby.
Wednesday was the first night for the alarm since Slater left that morning.
Thursday night was the same. And now, we’re in North Carolina for Slater’s game.
We left this morning at five am, so we could get to his game on time.
“Man, I’m glad we left when we did,” Evie says from her seat up front next to Zane. “Traffic has been crazy.”
“Yeah,” Zane says in response.
“But we’re here now,” Quint adds.
I take in the traffic and all the cars trying to get into the game. “I’m glad soccer’s starting to grow in popularity.”
“Pretty sure your boy is directly responsible for the traffic this weekend,” Quint says with a grin.
I don’t disagree. “I’m so excited.”
Quint grins over at me. “I couldn’t tell. You’re practically bouncing in your seat.”
“I love the College Cup. My family and I have been watching it every year for as long as I can remember.” A pang of guilt hits me.
I haven’t called home in weeks. I've been so consumed with everything that’s been going on.
I resolve to call later and check in. It takes a little while to get through security and parked, but finally we’re free. I climb out of the car and stretch.
Evie stretches as well. When she sees me, she grins. She’s been doing that all day. “What?”
“Sorry, I can’t help it. I just love seeing you all decked out.”
“Yeah, Tess. Could you have put Slater’s number anywhere else?” Quint asks.
I ignore all of them. I’m here for my guy, and I don’t care what anybody thinks about me.
I’m currently wearing his jersey with his name and number over a long-sleeved white shirt.
I’m also wearing two matching number sevens on my cheeks.
Stephanie helped me paint them on. She’s actually really good; they look amazing.
“At least we’ll be able to find you if we lose you,” Quint says with a laugh.
“You’re just jealous,” I call out as I hurry to catch up with him.
The place is packed, and it puts me on edge. I try not to think about the last soccer game I went to, the one that ended with this particular accessory on my wrist. I push those thoughts far, far away as we work at finding seats. “I’m getting food. Who wants something?” Quint asks.
“We just ate,” Evie reminds him.
“Evie,” he starts, but she waves him off.
“Yes, we know. You're a growing boy.”
He laughs. “Anybody want anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.” I eye the field. The other team is warming up, but our guys haven’t come out yet.
I’m anxious to see Slater. I haven’t seen him since Wednesday morning, and he’s been so busy, he hasn’t been able to call or text much.
I bounce my leg while I wait for them to come out.
When they finally make their entrance, I’m too nervous to even cheer.
I scan each member, looking for my guy. My nerves ratchet up with each guy that comes out that isn’t Slater.
Then, he finally shows up...the very last one.
My eyes run over him as best as I can from this distance.
I hold my breath as I watch them start warming up.
Only after I see him do his usual warmups do I start to relax.
The minutes tick down until the warm-up time is over.
“Tessa,” Zane calls out, catching my attention.
I lean forward to see him past Evie. “Slate wants to see you real quick. End of the row.” He nods to the other end, and I make my way that way quickly.
I don’t have to be told twice. When I get to the end of the row, I look around, trying to find Slater.
And then, he comes bounding up the bleachers, taking them two at a time.
He stops inches from me. He's a step below me, and it almost puts us at the same height. He’s still taller, but it’s close.
I’m suddenly nervous. “Hi,” I breathe out.
He smiles, and my heart kicks into overtime. “Hi.” He scans me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the sevens on my cheeks. “I like the look.”
I grin and mock curtsy. “Thank you.”
His eyes turn serious. “You okay?”
“I’m great.” The last thing I want is him to worry about me before his big game. “You?”
“Fine.” But his eyes look shadowed, and I wonder if he’s been sleeping.
But there’s no time to dwell on that right now.
“You ready to dominate?” He doesn’t smile, and I wonder how he’s going to do in this game.
But I force myself to stay positive. “Show them who you are, Striker. Nobody messes with number seven.”
He stares down at me and then finally nods. “Stick close to Zane and Quint; they’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“I’ll be fine, Slater. You need to focus on the game.” I glance down at the field. “You gotta go. You’ve got this, Slater Thorne.”
He stares down at me a moment longer and then turns and jogs back down the bleacher steps. I watch him go, unease settling in my stomach. That was not the focus that I’m used to from the great Slater Thorne. When I get back to my seat, Zane leans forward.
“How’d he seem?”
I shake my head. “Not good. He’s not focused on this game at all.”
Zane looks down at the field and then back at me. “He is, but more of his focus is up here in the bleachers.”
I grimace. “Should I not be here?”
His eyes widen. “No. That would make it worse. Much, much worse.” He gives me a look of confidence. “He’ll be okay; he’s got this.”
I bounce my leg and wait for the game to start.
“When’s takeoff?” Quint shouts above the noise.
I look at him in confusion, and he points to my bouncing leg.
I ignore him, and he laughs. They line up to start, and I lean forward.
And just like that, it’s on. A small part of me relaxes as the game gets going, and the familiar back and forth starts.
I watch Slater dribble around another player and start to relax.
I begin to think that maybe I was wrong about him; maybe this will be a good game after all.
But that’s before I watch him get a yellow card.
He yells at the ref at the call, and I stare in horror.
I cover my mouth with my hand, because that’s not Slater.
He’s always so cool and calm. “Come on, Slate,” Quint mutters next to me. “Keep it together.”
I watch in horror as Slate’s coach calls him over to the bench. The opposing team gets a penalty kick. Ben does his best, but it’s a really good kick. They score, and their team gathers to celebrate. I run my hand over my forehead. “What do I do?” I ask Quint without looking at him.
“Nothing,” he says in return. “This is on him. He’ll pull it out.”
But he doesn’t. He has a terrible first half.
By the time we reach halftime, I feel like we’ve been playing for hours.
The only good thing is that the other team hasn’t scored again except for that penalty kick.
The bad news is we haven’t scored either.
Our leading scorer is having probably the worst game of his career, and I know it’s one hundred percent my fault.
He hasn’t been sleeping, and he’s been worried about me, about this stupid bracelet.
I don’t know what to do. I get that he’s worried about me, and I get that he says he cares more about me than soccer.
I am so grateful for that. But I’m also not going to sit back and watch him throw his career and future away because of me.
I stand to my feet. Quint looks up at me warily. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to go talk to him.”
“They won’t let you back there,” he says, but I’m already making my way past people.
“Let them try to stop me,” I call back. I am a woman on a mission, and nobody is going to stop me.
I make my way towards where the team disappeared.
I walk that way, unsure what I’m going to do.
But then my eyes light on a player who hasn’t left the field yet.
“Ben!” I make my way that way. He turns to me. “Ben!” He jogs over to me.
“Tessa.”
“I need to talk to him.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t.”
I meet his gaze. “How bad do you want to win this game? Because you won’t. Not with your striker out of commission. And if he gets another yellow card, he’s totally out and so will you guys be.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I can tell he’s debating.
“Fine. Follow me.” He starts walking and then turns back to me.
“And whatever you do, keep your mouth shut.” I mime zipping my lips and follow after him.
When we get to the first security guard, Ben strides right past, and I start to do the same.
The guard steps in front of me. “You can’t go back there.”
Ben’s at my side a moment later. “She’s with me, one of the trainers.
” He looks down at me. “Bruce needs his left Achilles looked at. It’s been cramping, and if we don’t get it to stop cramping, he’s going to have to sit out.
” He keeps talking until we’re past the guard.
He does the same thing for the next two guards.
Then suddenly, we’re in front of the locker room.
“Stay here.” He starts to open the door then looks at me.
“Better yet, come in. This will shock him out of his funk.” Without a chance to think about it, I follow Ben into the men’s locker room.
I keep my eyes downcast and beg to heaven that everyone is dressed.
It takes about zero point two seconds for Slater to notice me.
There’s a loud curse, and then he’s storming over to Ben and I.
Ben doesn’t move, and I don’t either. Slater stops right in front of the two of us.
“What’s going on?” his voice is low and deadly.
I’ve never heard that tone of voice from him before.
“Slater.” That’s all I say, and that’s all it takes. He turns to me, and the anger leaves him instantly.
“Tess, Love, what are you doing here?” He steps closer. “Are you okay? Did Ben do something to you because I swear to—”
“No,” I cut off his tirade. “I made him bring me.”
His eyes scan my face again. “Why?”
I look up at him and then take in the wide eyes of his teammates behind him.
I wish we had privacy, but there’s no privacy to be had.
He’s got to go play. I don’t know where Coach is, but the moment he gets back, he’s going to boot me.
I have to use these precious few seconds.
“Slater.” He stares at me. “I’m not going to stand by and watch your season go up in flames.
” I watch as his jaw tightens. “I know you’re scared about everything going on,” I whisper.
“I am too, but we’re going to figure it out.
Right now, though, the priority is this game. ”
He shakes his head adamantly. “No, the priority is always you.”
I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin.
“Then you win this game. If I'm the priority, then you win this game. For me. You focus on nothing else but being the Slater Thorne that I love watching play soccer, and you win this game for me. You use that focus that you’re legendary for, and you Win. This. Game. Do you hear me?”
I watch as his eyes flash dangerously. He steps forward until we’re almost touching. “Do you have any idea how hot that was?”
I grin; I can’t help it. But I don’t look away from him. “Do this. For you. For your team. And for me.”
I watch the change come over him. His face loses all emotion, and that intensity that he’s known for settles over him. “Okay.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll see you after you win this game.” And then I turn on shaky legs and walk out of the locker room. Once I’m outside, I don’t stop walking until I’m safely back where the fans are allowed to be. Only then do I finally take a breath.