Chapter 6
Chapter Six
~DANNY~
It’s a Saturday night and I find myself back at the Tampa Bay Blaze stadium. It’s a home game against Angel FC, another recently created NWSL team.
The stadium is filling up with fans who are here to see the women play. My article didn’t stop them from coming in, but I knew it wouldn’t. I just hope the game is better today. There are a lot of little girls running around in soccer jerseys. Only a few are wearing the Blaze’s blue and yellow.
I smile as a little girl with a cotton-candy face almost runs into me.
“Sorry,” her mom quickly apologies as she runs after her daughter.
“No problem,” I reply. But I doubt she heard me. She’s too busy chasing her little girl.
The air in the stadium feels electric. I wonder if it has anything to do with the amount of youth who are here. I look up at the jumbotron and see there’s a “Welcome to Youth Night” message on it. That explains it.
It takes me longer than it did last time to get down to my spot on the sideline.
The press hang out there during warmups.
Not that the players have too much to say.
Usually, my interviews before the game are with the coaches or any other staff.
Every once in a while, if I flash my brown eyes, a player will stop and give me a quote or line for an article.
I lean against one of the cement walls that surround the field, keeping the patrons away from the players and the debris off the field.
The Blaze are warming up in front of me, doing passing drills, and in the distance I can see the goalkeeper working with a staff member.
I think he might be the goalie coach, based on the way he is working with her.
“Are you here to tear them apart again?” a voice beside me asks.
I look over at Nick. “I didn’t tear anyone apart last time.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you just like asking the tough questions. Do you think anyone will talk to you tonight?” He gestures toward the field, where the girls are running in lines and doing some footwork with soccer balls.
“I’m sure one of them will. I mean, I am the press.” We laugh and look around the field.
A ball comes flying from the field and smacks against the small space between Nick and me. The beer Nick was holding spills all down the front of my white polo.
“Son of a bitch,” I cry out, brushing the liquid off my shirt like it will do anything.
I look up and see Mac watching me, an amused grin on her full lips. “Sorry about that,” she replies, though I doubt she means it.
A woman I recognize from the press conference comes rushing over.
“Mackenzie, can we please apologize like we mean it?” She looks exasperated with Mac.
Sighing, loudly as the PR staff member bites her lip.
She eyes the stain forming on my white shirt.
“We have a shirt you can wear,” she quickly tells me in her all-business voice.
“That is if you don’t mind repping the Blaze. ”
She seems uncomfortable. I’m not sure if it’s the article I wrote or if she’s worried that Mac’s little misstep will appear in my latest article. It would hardly be favorable press for the team.
“I would not mind at all,” I tell her, flashing her a reassuring smile and softening my eyes to help put her at ease. All I really want to do, though, is slam this ball back at Mac and tell her to fuck off.
“Great, let me get you one. Blue or yellow?”
“Blue, please,” I tell her before she hurries off to fetch me a shirt. “Happy to rep the Blaze colors tonight.” I say it loud enough that I hope Mac can hear me.
And she must, because she turns around. “Oh, are you a fan now?” Her tone is anything but sweet.
A teammate with dark brown hair who’s wearing the number eight elbows her, but it does nothing to stop her scowl.
Before I can even get a retort out, the PR woman is back, handing me a T-shirt. “I guessed on the size. I hope that’s okay.”
I peek at the size—medium. It’s going to be a bit tight, but it’ll work. “This should be fine,” I tell her.
Without a second thought, I pull the beer-stained polo over my head and take my sweet time righting the Blaze T-shirt, giving Mac a nice view of my toned chest and stomach.
It works just like I thought it would. She’s staring at me, her blue eyes blazing.
And I don’t think it’s out of anger. She likes what she sees.
Her full bottom lip is pulled between her teeth as she watches me, and I do my best to give her a show.
I wink at her as I pull it over my head and do my best to get it over my chest.
“It’s a bit snug. We should get you another one,” Nick says. “I don’t want to spend all night watching you parade around like Vin Diesel in a muscle shirt.”
“I’ll grab a large,” Cindy replies.
“That would be great,” Nick says, laying on the Mr. Nice Guy act real thick.
“I do not parade around,” I tell him. Although right now, I have a shirt that’s a bit too small draped over my shoulder.
Mac seems to be doing her best to keep her eyes away from me, but I notice her sneaking peeks as she passes the ball with a teammate.
“Thank you.” I take the new shirt from the PR rep when she makes it back and pull it over my chest. This one fits much better. “There, are you happy?” I ask Nick. “Now you won’t have to see my muscular body on display, making you feel inept in your puny little body.”
“Fuck off, asshole. We weren’t all swimmers,” he reminds me. “Plus, I’m fit. I’m just not trying to look like The Rock.”
I punch him playfully in the shoulder. “Any other out-of-date pop culture references you want to throw out there?”
He just laughs and shoots me the finger.
I look down at my new shirt. It’s baby blue and has the navy and yellow logo of the Blaze on it. It’s actually kind of nice. I wonder if this is one of the promotional shirts they’re handing out or if she actually ran and got me a shirt from the merch stand.
“Hey, Mac,” I call out. I have to fuel the hate she’s got building just a bit more. “Thanks so much for ruining my other shirt. This worked out well. I’ve always wanted a Blaze T-shirt.”
“You could have just bought yourself one. You didn’t need to get in the way of my warmups.”
“Is that what I did?” I challenge.
“Yeah, it was.”
I laugh and it only makes her hate me more. I can tell by the way her eyes narrow and her chest puffs out at me.
“Would you two like to get a picture?” Nick smiles and motions for her to come stand near me. “Do you have a minute for that, Mac?”
“She does,” the PR rep says, suddenly appearing beside us.
Mac storms over to her and pulls her slightly away from us. I can’t hear what’s being said, but I imagine she isn’t thanking the rep for volunteering her for this. But she doesn’t win.
“You two get together, please,” the rep says. “We’ll just take one quick picture, and then you can get back to the field.”
Mac comes over and stands beside me. I put my arm around her and lean in close.
“Take your arm off me or you may lose it,” she bites out.
I chuckle. “This takes a better picture. Now smile for Nick.”
Her head whips in my direction, and I see the fire in her eyes.
They’re so full of passion, and with her lips parting just slightly, I get the perfect view of their fullness.
I’d like to suck on that bottom lip. I wonder if she would moan if I did.
There’s something happening here, a tension building, making me want to lean in and see if we could have some truly hot hate sex.
She must feel it too, because her chest pushes a bit more in my direction.
Nick’s camera clicks a few times.
“We should get one facing the camera,” I stutter out.
She mumbles, “Yeah, just one more.”
“Great. Smile for Nick,” I say condescendingly, hoping to break whatever spell I’m being put under.
She takes a step and purposely steps on my toe with her cleat. My blue-and-white Nike shoes aren’t enough to protect me from the full weight of the spike.
“Ouch,” I grind out.
“Oh, sorry about that.” Her tone is laced with sarcasm.
“Sure, you are,” I say as I lean in
“Can I have my player back?” a voice from the right of me calls. “She’s gotta warm up some more.”
“Sure, Coach Watts,” the rep replies quickly. “Sorry, we had a little mishap over here.”
“You better go. I’m getting you into more trouble.” I laugh uncomfortably as I move my arm from around her shoulder.
“Yeah, me too.” She starts walking away.
“Huh?” I say, unsure of what her response means, but she’s already back over with the team.
My eyes follow her as she takes shots on goal and the keeper works to save them.
The momentum in which she’s striking the ball is putting so much power on it.
The keeper is having trouble keeping up.
I wonder if the force that she’s striking with has anything to do with the heat that she felt over here.
“Hey, Casanova, are you okay?” Nick asks me.
My attention turns back to him. I shake my head, bringing myself out of the fog I was in for a bit. “Fuck off, man.”
“Uh-huh” is all he says. “Let’s get you up in the press box so she doesn’t take any more shots at you.”
“Ha,” I scoff. “Maybe I put some fire into her. Maybe this will actually be a good game.”
“The last one wasn’t that bad,” Nick says as he follows me up the steps to the press box.
“Stop being so nice,” I say over my shoulder.
Nick might not be that wrong, although I would never tell him that.
She sure does have a spunk in her soul tonight.
Mac is playing some serious offense, running up the line with great speed and making excellent crosses to her teammates.
She’s taken a few good shots on goal and has managed to come up with an assist from one of those crosses.
The Blaze are on fire tonight and the crowd is loving them.
We’re in the second half, and the Blaze are still up one-nothing.
They look great and they might just beat Angel FC if they keep it up.
I must admit that I’m impressed. And I’ll admit that to myself, but not to anyone else.
The women are really on their game, especially Mac.
She’s carrying the ball up the field while fans around me chant, “Go to goal! Go to goal!”
“Pretty sure that’s where she’s headed,” I say lowly.
Nick elbows me in the side. “You know, you could pretend to be a fan.” He chuckles. “The Blaze are putting on quite a show.” Another reporter must think he’s talking to him, because they end up high fiving.
“Her shooting percentage is in the toilet,” I say. “This isn’t going to be a goal.”
Just as I say it, Mac cuts in toward the center, making a beeline for the goal.
She stills and fires at the keeper. It’s perfect placement; the ball soars over the goalie’s outstretched hand and finds the corner of the net.
The whole stadium erupts, and fans jump to their feet.
Mac turns, grinning a mile-wild smile, arms spread out as she runs toward her teammates, who are cheering along with her.
The camera zooms in on Mac’s face. She cranes her head over her shoulder, in the direction of the press box, and winks. As quickly as it happens, it’s done. She’s being mobbed in a celebratory group hug.
“Was that wink for you?” Nick asks with a chuckle.
“She did wink, didn’t she?”
“That she did,” Nick confirms.
“That wink couldn’t have been for me,” I say with a shake of my head.