Chapter 19
An Actual Smile
Kodi
“But have you seen the goalie on field six?” some gossiping mom said behind me at the concession stand. Being nosy, I pulled out my phone to see who was playing there. And once I saw who it was, my nose wrinkled.
“You know that guy isn’t even old enough to drink, right?” I asked, tilting my body towards them to look over my shoulder.
“Well, he’s over eighteen,” one said, elbowing the other as they chuckled.
“Ew.” Appetite gone, I left the line, ignoring the ladies' huffs, and went back to the field where Kean and Brooker were gonna play next.
Their first game went great. The kids took to Brooker really well and Kean …
well, when he tossed the ball back into the field, he made sure to give each kid a pass, which was more than I expected.
In the rare few minutes I had during the week to think about something other than Kean’s insane task list, I worried about how he’d be with kids.
I pictured him being a hard-ass, not letting them score on him, not tempering his passes.
But that’s not what happened at all.
He might not have smiled like I asked him to, but he was good with the kids. He gave them little fist bumps when they scored on him, he pulled his cross-field kick, he was even careful when sliding to make sure sand didn’t get in their eyes.
He was a much better thirsting option than a fucking twenty year old, that’s for sure.
“Yo, Kodi!” Brooker shouted at me, jogging away from the coach, Kean, and the kids in a pregame huddle.
“Uh, hey?” I slid my phone back in my pocket and looked at Brooker with my brows pinched together.
We’d interacted a handful of times since I’d been hired and while he got a little flirty, I considered him a friend, or like possible friend if we ever hung out outside of work.
That said, it was kind of suspicious for him to call me out across the field and run over.
“So, I hear you’re coming to Nashville with us. Excited?”
“Oh, yeah. It should be fun. That is if Kean keeps his errand list light and I have time to do some sightseeing.”
“I’ll see what I can do to get him to lighten up.”
I threw my head back and laugh.
“All right, all right. I’ll pester him so much that he’s too tired to be an asshole.”
“That sounds more realistic.”
Brooker hummed, chewing his lips as he looked me over. I raised an eyebrow at him, curious what it was he was trying to work out.
“So …” he started, dragging out the word. “You single?”
“For you?” I asked cocking my head to the side and Brooker laughed.
“Nah, I clocked that you’re not interested.
I just …” He paused to look out the corner of his eyes.
“That was a bad way to phrase it. I was just thinking that we normally go out as a team when we win away games and I’d invite you, but if you’ve got a partner or whatever, they might not like you hanging out like that. ”
“Oh, that’s thoughtful. But isn’t it a little presumptuous to be planning your celebrations already?” I asked.
“You’ve seen us play, you know we’re gonna win,” he said, winking.
I rolled my eyes, laughing. The Nashville Nasties were a pretty solid team, though they were significantly better at defense than offense.
It was probably going to be a close game with only a handful of points. Points Brooker was confident he’d get.
“What happens if we don’t win?”
Brooker’s smile widen, eyes twinkling with either joy or mischief, I didn’t know him well enough to tell which.
“You said we.”
“Oh, that was just —” I started to say, feeling a sting of embarrassment for saying I was a part of the team as a PA.
“No, it’s good! You’re a part of the team, too.”
Was it stupid that him saying that made me get all teary-eyed?
Maybe. But the Dastards as an organization meant a lot to me and to be told I was a part of the team was …
it was everything. Plus I’ve barely slept between Kean’s list and trying to beat this event’s donation goals, so the tears were more than ready to go.
“Thank you, Brooker. Really. That —” But before I could finish expressing my gratitude, Brooker was yanked by the shoulder.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kean shouted at his teammate, yanking the man so hard he spun a full 180 degrees. “I told you to forget about it.”
“Woah, woah, dude, no. You’ve got the wrong idea,” Brooker said, waving his hands up in surrender.
“So she’s just crying for no reason?” Kean scoffed and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
This guy’s grumpiness had hit a new apex this week with his short responses, weird stiffness whenever we were in the same room, and being just generally unpleasant.
And yet somehow, he felt the need to defend my honor or some shit.
And as I was rolling my eyes, I caught a couple of ladies, specifically the ones I’d told off, holding their phones up to record the scene.
“Shit,” I hissed under my breath before stepping around Brooker to grab at Kean’s elbow. “Stop fighting with your teammate in public at a charity event.”
“He made you cry,” Kean said, like I was the idiot.
“He didn’t make me sad. Just included.”
“Included?” Kean repeated, grip loosening on Brooker. The other man used the opportunity to step away, his shirt slipping through Kean’s fingers.
“I was just saying she’s a part of the team so, like, if she wanted to come out with us for post-win parties, she’s invited.”
Kean’s eyes had softened but snapped right back to a glare when Brooker brought up a party.
“I told you —” he started but I stepped in between him and Brooker.
“He was being nice. Jeez, Kean. Do you know how to do that or were you raised by wolves?”
“Or Air Bud,” Brooker piped up from behind me and I fought the urge to elbow him in the stomach.
“He wasn’t being nice, he was trying to …” Kean’s jaw tightened as he quieted.
“I was being friendly. You know, just like we talked about.”
“I said no.”
“Sure, but like, you need the help.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, then why’d you come over here like a possessed caveman?”
“You made her cry!”
“Happy tears! I’d like to see you do that. I bet you couldn’t even get her to cry —” Brooker stopped abruptly, biting his tongue just as Kean took a step closer to him, eyes darkening. “I’ll stop talking.”
“Right, like that’ll ever happen,” Kean huffed, backing down. I chanced a glance over my shoulder to see more folks had gathered around.
“Guys, you’ve got to chill,” I whispered. “People are watching and filming.”
Brooker and Kean’s heads snapped up to look over at the crowd. A few folks had the sense to look away, dispersing under the spotlight of Kean’s glare. But some of the women just giggled and waved at Brooker. Noticeably, none of them waved at Kean.
“Sorry, guys. Kean thought I was being mean to his PA and got a little protective,” Brooker shouted over to them with a swoony smile. The women melted on cue, totally falling for Brooker’s whole thing.
“I’ll go smooth things over. Try out the whole friendly thing, yeah?” he said, clapping Kean on the shoulder before taking off to the women. Once he had them distracted, I turned on Kean.
“What the hell is going on with you?” I asked, poking at his chest.
“You were crying.” He shrugged, eyes on the ground.
“So you grab Brooker like you're gonna fight him?”
“If he made you cry, yeah, I’d fight him.”
I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be sweet or if he was just unhinged.
“How about we make a deal, huh? I promise to let you know if anyone on the team is being mean or makes me cry sad tears and you don’t fight anyone until then?”
Kean’s eyes widened. “You promise?”
“Yeah, sure. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that.” I mockingly crossed a finger over my heart and his shoulders relaxed.
“Okay. I won’t fight Brooker until you say so.”
“Is there bad blood between you and him?” He just shrugged in response. “No, seriously, Kean. Is there something up between the two of you? You seem to work fine on the field, but every time I see the two of you together, you’re at his throat.”
“He’s …” Kean crossed his arms and looked over at Brooker flirting with the moms. “He’s a player.”
“Okay, and?”
“And … he’s been trying to — it’s just … guy stuff.”
“Guy stuff?” I repeated with a laugh. “It seems like you hate the guy.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I just wish he’d butt out of …”
“Of?” I prodded when he didn’t immediately finish his sentence.
“Nothing. He’s just being irritating. I … asked him not to … bother you.”
“Well, he wasn’t. He was including me in team activities.”
“With ulterior motives,” he said under his breath and I rolled my eyes again.
“He knows I’m not interested in him, okay? So ease up, guard dog.”
“I wasn’t …” Kean started to say before sighing. “Sorry. I’ll try to … I’d say not let him get to me, but that seems unlikely.”
I snorted at his little comment and he looked back at me with something soft in his eyes, like he was surprised he was able to make me laugh.
“How about you try to ignore him and I promise to get you some noise blockers for next weekend.”
The corner of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly.
“Thank —” he started when a ball thunked against his back. Kean snapped around to see Brooker out in the field with a couple kids, looking sheepish and holding his hands out, pressed together. Kean’s hands balled into fists at his side.
“Remember, there’re kids around,” I said, resting a hand on his bicep. He flinched in response, moving away from me to bend down and get the ball.
“Any advice on how to ignore him when he’s literally throwing sh— things at me?”
“Grin and bear it?” I suggested, shrugging even though he was facing away from me. He looked down at the ball, shoulders slumped.
“Right,” he grumbled as he stood up. “Maybe I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.”
Kean spun the ball in his hands a few times before walking over to the goal, the opposite direction from Brooker.
The other man shouted back, the kids laughing at the childish antics of these two grown men they looked up to, a few of them running over to Kean asking for the ball.
Kean ignored Brooker’s cries and tossed the ball out to the first kid who went over.
While that kid passed to a friend, Kean leaned over to another one to whisper something.
The kid got a near devilish grin and ran over to the others.
Within minutes, the whole team was in on the new game, keep-away from Brooker.
While playing with the kids, Kean had the biggest smile I’d ever seen from him.
I snapped a picture, the part of my brain that searched for media angles quiet for once because I wasn’t taking this picture for Kean’s profile. I was taking it for me.