Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
~MAC~
That wink was for him. I just had to show him who got that attack. I played the game of my life tonight. It’s the home opener we should have had but didn’t. But tonight, we are winners, defeating Angel FC three to one. Two of those goals were mine.
Knowing Danny was up there in the press box, collecting more material for another article, lit a fuse inside me, and I wanted to finish this strong.
I wanted that ball to be his head. Or I wanted the ball that I had launched in his direction pre-game to have made contact with his face.
It didn’t, and my coaches are still trying to convince me that that was a good thing.
Either way, I made sure I pictured his face when I launched the ball toward the goal.
The goalie didn’t stand a chance with as much power as I put on those kicks.
A few were wide, a few were unfinished passes.
But two of them found the back of the net and gave us the win that we were missing.
So yeah, when I looked up at the press box, I knew he was watching me. So, I winked. I wanted to scream in his direction, “Now who lacks attack?” But I behaved and celebrated with my teammates, telling myself that the performance I was putting on was more for me and the fans than for Danny.
“You rocked it out there tonight, girl,” Cassidy says, bumping my shoulder as we file into the locker room.
“Thanks. You were pretty awesome too. Thanks for all those through balls. I think all of my goals were assisted by you.” I tap her on the nose.
She crinkles her nose and shakes her head. “I couldn’t help but notice that wink.” Her voice trails off like she’s waiting for me to fill in the blanks. But I don’t do it. There is nothing to fill her in on.
“We gotta get to the team room in a bit,” Hendrix reminds us. “The youth would like some autographs and whatnot. No press room for you tonight.” She laughs and begins putting on her warmup.
“Yeah, no press room for me,” I state.
I can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment.
I was really looking forward to seeing what witty little remarks the small man had for me tonight.
I wanted to hear about how I lacked attack again.
Or how he felt that our team didn’t belong in this town.
I was going to make him eat his words. I smile wickedly thinking of all of the things I could say to him.
“What’s up with you?” Cass sits on the bench in front of me, head cocked to the side, eyes searching for something.
A knowing smile that crosses her face tells me that she thinks that she found what she is looking for.
“Was someone looking forward to talking to Danny tonight?” she says in a teasing tone.
I try my damnedest but fail to keep the flush off my checks. “More like looking forward to giving him a verbal lashing.”
“What other kind of lashing would you like to give him?” she teases.
“None,” I say sternly, hoping she believes me. But the knowing smile on her face says otherwise. Once my warmup is on, I turn to her and say, “We’ve gotta get to the team room. The youth await.”
We make our way in, and the girls cheer for us as we enter.
I smile and my heart fills with warmth to see all of the girls excited to see us.
I wonder for a brief second what it would be like if we had lost. Would they be so happy?
Would I be signing as many pictures and jerseys or taking pictures with them as I am now?
Moving around the room, I feel eyes on my back.
I smirk because I know exactly who those eyes belong to.
I turn and find him watching me and making notes on his notepad. I nod in his direction, and he returns it. The same man who was beside him on the field is standing with him now, a camera slung around his neck, which he quickly whips up and snaps a picture of. I look away and head back to the kids.
Thankfully, there are no interviews from the media tonight. Instead, the little kids are interviewing us. My favorite question comes from a little girl with long blonde hair and green eyes. She reminds me of me when I was a little girl.
“What did it feel like when you scored that goal?” she asks.
“Which one?” I wink in her direction, and she giggles. “It was amazing! It took a lot of teamwork from all of us to make it happen. What’s your name?”
“Alexis.” Her voice is loud, and her shoulders straighten as she tells me her name.
“What position do you play?”
“Striker, just like you,” she replies proudly.
“That’s wonderful. I hope you’ll keep coming back to the games. Next time, if you come see me at the end of the game, I’ll see if I can get you on the field to dribble around with me.” I swear her green eyes might pop out of her head.
“That would be so awesome! You can really do that?”
“I sure can,” I tell her.
I hear the clicking of a camera again. Something about Danny being in the room makes my skin vibrate, and the tension is palpable every time our gaze meets.
My eyes narrow on him, but Danny, being the arrogant jerk, I’ve come to know, just smirks and shakes his head.
That smirk makes my stomach flip for a second.
I turn back to Alexis. “I hope you’ll come to another game.”
“I’m sure we will. My daddy bought season tickets, even though he said we should have just stuck to Orlando,” Alexis announces.
Her dad is standing behind her, his face beet red. “I didn’t mean that,” he stammers out.
I nod. He absolutely did mean that, but I try not to let it damper my mood as I smile and take pictures with her and her friends.
My mood doesn’t change until we’ve left the arena, and I’m seated around a table with Cassie, Amelia, Hendrix, and Andie.
Andie doesn’t always come out with us. As the assistant coach, she has to keep her distance from us to remain professional.
They’re all in the mood to celebrate, and I should be too, but that comment Alexis’s dad made is bothering me.
“What’s up, girl?” Andie asks me. She pushes a strand of her short blonde hair from her face. “You should be happy after you scored two goals tonight. You were on fire!”
The girls all cheer, and Cassie smacks me on the back. “Yeah, what’s bugging you? Is it that stupid reporter? We didn’t even have to talk to him tonight.”
But he was there, I want to say. I could feel the judgment oozing off him. “I had the perfect comeback for him too.” I shake my head and sip my beer.
“You might still get the chance to use it. He’s over there at the bar.” Hendrix points him out.
“Don’t point!” I squeal a little too loud.
“I’m the one who is going to draw attention to us?” Hendrix smirks.
I shake my head. “What is he even doing here? This is where we hang out.”
“I think that’s the whole point of him being here,” Cassidy says. “He’s over talking to Kelly and Kristy.”
My head snaps around so fast that I’m pretty sure he’s going to spot me.
But he’s too busy leaning over and talking to Kelly.
Or is that Kristy? It’s hard to tell them apart.
They swear they aren’t sisters, but you’d never know.
Their looks are similar—both tall, blonde, and so graceful in their movements both on and off the soccer field.
People underestimate them and then they shine.
They are two of our midfielders and they do a great job working with Cassidy on the field.
“You look a bit jealous,” Andie points out. “Something you want to share with the rest of the class?”
The girls break out into a fit of giggles.
“No,” I say, shrinking back a bit. “I just hate that he’s here. The Backwoods Bar is our place. He doesn’t get to just show up everywhere we go.”
“Uh-huh, well, if you want to kick another soccer ball at his face, I think I might have one in my car.” Cassidy giggles from behind her appletini.
“I did not do that on purpose.”
“I think you did. Watts thought that you did too.” Andie shoots me a wink. “Why would you want to hurt that gorgeous face?”
I stare at her, mouth agape. “Are you kidding me? Didn’t you read the things he said about me and the team?”
She nods. “Yes, Mac, I remember. We all read the article. But all of that stuff aside, he’s quite a spicy little dish. I don’t think he meant anything by it. I think he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. And he did—two, in fact.”
“How do you figure?” I ask.
“I would say he got more than two,” Hendrix points out.
“More than two? What do you mean?” I ask. I shake my head like a fog has settled back into my brain. A fog that I thought I cleared earlier when I saw him.
“There was the time you challenged him all feisty in the pressroom,” Hendrix says, ticking it off on her finger. “The second one is when you shot that ball at his face. And I would say that the third one might be when you winked at him.”
“I did not wink at him,” I say a little too loudly.
A few of the players around us and the bar patrons all look in my direction.
Something about the change in the air and the way the hairs stand up on the back of my neck tells me that he’s near me.
“I didn’t,” I repeat when no one has spoken, and they’re all staring at me.
It takes me a minute, but I realize they’re not actually looking at me but over my shoulder. Their eyes are wide, and they have naughty little smiles on their faces.
“Fuck,” I say, laughing and putting my head in my hands. Someone taps me on the shoulder. I refuse to turn around. “Go the fuck away because we are not at the stadium, and I am not required to talk to you.”
“Yeah, it’s probably best we don’t talk right now,” he replies. “There’s no handler here to keep you on your leash.”
I can almost feel the vibration of his voice up and down my spine.
I spin around so quickly that I almost fall off my stool, but his strong arms reach out to steady me.
He doesn’t touch my shoulders or even my arms. Instead, Danny’s hands find my waist. My breath hitches as he digs in just a bit.
The bite of his touch and the musky smell of his cologne overwhelm my senses.
My body tilts toward him just a bit as he angles closer to me. I almost think our lips might touch.
“Not gonna happen,” he whispers lowly, and I’m sure we’re the only two who can hear his words. “Not until you beg me to touch you. Because you and I both know you want me to.”
“I—” But the rest of the sentence refuses to fall from my lips. I want to tell him that I don’t, but I can’t. I just stand there, mouth open, with his hands on my waist. It’s not until a throat clears beside him that I realize we’re still locked in that position.
“You guys wanna go get a room or something?” the man asks.
Danny drops his hands from my waist, and he playfully punches the man. “Fuck off, Nick. I just had to help out the damsel. You know, she was in distress and all.”
The two men snicker.
“Yeah, well, this was lots of fun, but if you’ll excuse me.” I turn my stool around, pick up my glass, and down the rest of my beer in quick chugs.
“Easy there, buttercup,” Cassidy says. “You have to walk home. Unless you’re going home with talk, dark, and dangerous back there.”
I hear a chuckle from behind me. I’m guessing it’s the man who came up and broke the trance. Nick, I think he called him. My face reddens and I look down at my hands, hoping and praying that he takes this opportunity to get the fuck away from me.
But he doesn’t.
“You’re blushing,” Danny says. “Does the thought of going home with me get you hot?”
“No,” I grit out.
“Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not. It’s just the beer,” I say, although I’m sure I’m not very convincing. “There’s no story here for you tonight, so you can go now. Let us celebrate with people who are actually rooting for us, not against us.”
“I’m not against you, Mac.”
It’s the first time he’s said my name tonight, and it’s not doing anything to dampen the heat that’s been stirring since he came over and put his hands on me.
“Well, you’re certainly not with us,” I reply.
He laughs. I try not to think about how he’s got a great laugh. It’s deep, hearty, and genuine. I hate that I take pleasure in the sounds he makes and his closeness right now.
“Alright, Mac Attack, I’ll let you get back to your teammates. Have a good night.” He taps my shoulder with a single finger, and a chill runs down my spine.
The table is silent for a while after he leaves. They’re all watching me.
“Fuck off, guys,” I say. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Uh-huh” is all Cassidy says. It doesn’t surprise me that she talks first. She’s the one who knows me best and could get away with saying the most shit. No one else dares to say a word.
The bartender, Phil, comes over from the bar, carrying a tray of drinks.
“We didn’t order these,” I reply as he sets down the exact drinks that most of us have polished off.
“That guy over there ordered them for you,” Phil explains. “Enjoy, ladies.” He almost walks away, but he stops and turns to me. “Oh, and Mac, he said to tell you that this is a peace offering. Whatever that means.”
There are a few oohs from the table, and I do my best to ignore the teenage-girl noises that come from my friends.
“Just shut up and drink,” I say, hoping that signals the closing of the topic, and for now, it does.
We enjoy the rest of the night celebrating our win. Meanwhile, I pretend not to notice every time I do notice Danny watching me. I’m hyper aware of him. I’m not sure when it started, but I hope to god it stops.