4. Rose
Rose
Rose wasn’t making excuses when she told Kirin the Montgomery pitch had terrible drainage and it was a contributing factor to her breaking Laurel’s nose during that game last season.
It was unfortunate that Laurel got hurt because of the rainstorm, but if she remembered their conversation yesterday, she’d also mentioned soccer was a contact sport.
Maybe she said it because she needed the reminder too.
The Montgomery team held the accident, and probably years of Westmont being absolute assholes, against her.
They were thirty-seven minutes into their forty-five-minute scrimmage, and there was more mud on her than all her teammates combined.
Probably more on her than on the pitch. Coach Spaulding watched from the sidelines, her dark brows lowered and arms crossed, and for the tenth time, Rose shook her head when their eyes met, and it looked like she wanted to step in.
Maya Lewis slammed into her side, shoving her off her feet and toppling her into the mud again.
Rose was up on her feet slower each time, but she kept getting up, and she could see the annoyance on their faces every time she did.
After nearly a full month of this shit, she hoped it would pay off, because there were going to be some nasty bruises on her ribs.
She could feel it every time she breathed.
But she knew what she was signing up for when she took this transfer.
Coach told her the team was a tight unit, that breaking through would be hard and that they very well might make her earn her spot by putting her through hell the entire season.
Coach had other teams do it before, but Rose was positive a few games in and the team would see she wasn’t like the rest of the Westmont team.
But they were through training camp and their first few games, the latest one being against Westmont no less, and they still hated her.
And she’d take it; she’d take it all next season as well if she had to.
They dialed back the animosity during games—seems even the team knew that showing outright disdain for one of their own players was something to keep within the confines of team scrimmages.
At least the consensus seemed to be that she was worth putting up with if it meant winning more games.
She’d made an agreement with the coach when she joined that there would be no intervention.
She wanted to prove herself to them, to earn their respect, without it being forced on them.
Coach Spaulding wasn’t a fan of the agreement, but she seemed to respect it.
When their forty-five minutes were up, Coach blew the whistle, and they filed off the field.
There were words of encouragement from her team to the other side that lost. Nobody came near her as she used the backs of her hands to wipe the mud from her face.
It was cold, and she was ready for a shower and a soak in the ice bath before she met with Kirin.
Coach Spaulding followed her down the long hallway leading to the locker room. “You’re doing well, supporting where there are weaknesses before they become issues.”
The words of encouragement bolstered her wounded ego and body. It gave her hope that maybe next year would be easier, but only if she could break through with the team. When Coach slowed, there was a heavy beat, and she sensed the “but” coming just before Coach continued.
“But you need to do better at protecting yourself. Fight back and I’m sure they’ll learn to respect it.
” Coach Spaulding stopped by her office door, and Rose stopped with her, turning to meet her coach’s stern gaze.
“You won’t last the season if you don’t.
That’s not what we agreed to when you transferred. ”
“Understood,” Rose murmured and swallowed, resisting the urge to press a hand against her sensitive ribs.
Coach nodded, and Rose took it as the dismissal it was. The team was certainly giving her a physical challenge. She needed to fight back, but she wasn’t sure how to do that without confirming all their assumptions.
Rose trudged into the locker room, ignoring the wary looks thrown her way as she pulled her jersey off and pressed a hand to her ribs again.
With just under a month on this team, she had yet to go to Coach and complain.
She thought her teammates were surprised, but she didn’t know them well enough to say for sure.
The closest relationship she’d fostered was with her travel roommate, Bridget.
However, Bridget rarely acknowledged her outside of travelling, which felt more like a dirty affair than the foundations of a friendship.
Rose peeled her shorts down to her ankles, wincing when she bent awkwardly to yank her cleats and socks off.
They had a game tomorrow, and the team pushing her to her breaking point wasn’t something she’d seen coming.
Their practice was supposed to be light and encouraging.
Instead, she felt like a stampede had trampled her.
But when she wrapped a towel around herself and headed for the shower, nobody said anything. And for that, she was grateful.
Rose dragged herself to St. James Sweets after the fastest, most painful shower of her life and eight agonizing minutes in the ice bath to find Kirin standing at the counter laughing with a pretty brunette in an emerald apron.
If this didn’t prove those chiseled cheekbones, permanent five o’clock shadow, full lips, and powerful jaw were like catnip, then she wasn’t sure what would.
The loose Montgomery University Athletics shirt highlighted his broad shoulders, and his black joggers brought attention to his tapered waist. It was hopeless.
She could see why the brunette was smitten.
The man wouldn’t know how not to draw attention if he tried.
She watched them—the easy set of his shoulders and the blush that crept up the girl’s neck and into her cheeks.
Rose hated it. Hated that she was standing outside watching, hated hating it because it was irrational.
Kirin Callaghan was a stranger, a firmly off-limits one, and yet she couldn’t seem to look away from the way his joggers highlighted the tight ass and thick thighs she knew a lot of college football players had.
Yet there were so few she wanted to climb.
Kirin was on that short list of the insanely attractive because that’s all this was.
A physical reaction to a near-perfect specimen, which is what she would keep telling herself for the rest of time if need be.
Going down that road was a bad idea.
Right?
She pulled the door open with a long sigh, biting back the groan as she shifted her body.
Her arm came up automatically, wrapped around her ribs and pressed to ease the ache as the bell attached to the door, rang.
Kirin glanced over his shoulder at the noise, gray eyes bright with residual laughter, his cheeks pressing his eyes into a little squint when he looked her over.
She watched his eyes drop with the smile, then narrow.
It had her heart racing, and she internally growled at the traitorous organ.
“You okay?” Kirin asked when he crossed the room to hold open the door for her, his gaze shifting from her to the quiet street behind her. “Did someone hurt you?”
“What? No, I’m fine.” She stepped into the café, edging around Kirin as she swallowed a groan at the movement and the glare thrown her way from the brunette behind the counter.
“You’re holding your ribs,” he pointed out, trailing her to the back booth where she hoped fewer people would see them together.
Kirin attracted attention like a damn magnet. The last thing she needed was someone getting a photo of them together and it getting back to— No. She stopped her thoughts before they got any further down that road.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, avoiding his gaze while she slid with small, careful movements into the booth.
Jarringly awkward—that was the best way to describe the experience, but she did it anyway.
“Did you pop a rib out or something?”
“Can we please focus on—”
“Rose, you stopped breathing three times trying to get into the booth.” Kirin’s voice left no room for argument, and she glanced across the table at him, surprised to see genuine concern and a furrowed brow.
“I had a rough practice. It’s fine.”
“Did they run you over or something?”
“Or something.” She closed her eyes the second she saw his head tilt, dreading the questions that might come next. “I’m handling it, so let’s just focus on this project.”
“But—”
“Please focus on the project.” She looked up at him and sighed. “Please.”
Kirin assessed her, and her skin prickled under the attention, trying to pretend it was fine that he was looking at her, even though it felt like he was looking through her. Seeing all the crap she didn’t want anyone to see before she figured out who she needed to be to survive here.
“We’ll circle back to it. I had an idea for the project,” he started, and she blinked.
He was letting it go, for now at least. That was good.
He was just a project partner. It would be better for both of them if he stayed in his lane.
She nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“I think it’ll help with whatever you have going on, and provide a good project basis. ”
Suspicion inched its way across her mind. “Okay?”
“Have you taken any pain meds? Anything to help with inflammation?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she insisted again, and he frowned.
There was another long minute of silence before he asked, “Are you allergic to anything?”
“Lentils and melons,” she answered without thinking, and then paused, narrowing her eyes when he grinned. “Why?”
He scooted his way back out of the booth before he answered, “Be right back.”