Page 52 of The Kiss of Deception

I wait for Zoe to connect the dots herself. She’s been inhabiting this world her entire life—she grew up in it. She knows its intricacies as well as I do.

Emotions run hot and untamed in sports, so ridiculous accusations will come, vicious tongues saying I wasn’t committed to my team—perhaps hoping to sabotage it from the inside.

But I am. Contrary to what will be said, I will be fully committed to this team until the last minute I wear the blue colors.

Every time my cleats hit the grass, I leave it all on the field—whether it’s practice or a friendly game or the Champions League finals. I don’t know how to do it any other way.

With the season underway, any rumor would only disrupt our good streak, and that’s something I won’t be responsible for. No matter what colors I’ll wear in the future, this still is my team, and I will fight for it until the last day on my contract.

When our season ends, I’ll walk away with the certainty I’ve given my all in each practice and every game. Then, the public opinion can judge and convict me for my betrayal.

“Right. It’ll be a scandal. People will talk, rage, point fingers. So why transfer precisely to the rival?" She addresses the big question—the peak of the scandal. “I mean, I’m sure half of the teams in the country want you. Maybe even Europe.”

Her interest piques, and she twists in her seat to get a better look at me.

When Zoe fortuitously stumbled upon my plans of transferring to my current team’s eternal rival—literally stumbling into my future boss as he left my place—she promised she wouldn’t say a word. Not that she had any evidence, but these days a rumor is enough—and something I can’t afford during the season.

After a thorough negotiation, we came to a begrudging: when the time comes, Zoe will detonate the bomb in an exclusive interview.

The whole episode escalated the tension in our strenuous relationship. We never discussed it again—not until she almost took the scandal to Monterrey.

Then, I accidentally created a different one, which has been our sole focus the past six weeks.

Now I don’t deny her statement. I have plenty of other teams knocking on my door with enticing checks. Contracts of a lifetime, as my thorough agent reminded me yet again tonight.

Earlier, he pulled me aside to once again advise me to rethink my decision, to remind me of the huge mistake I’d make should I choose to go ahead with my decision. All for my own sake, of course. I might come to regret my foolish stubbornness—and that’s the last thing he wants, because he worries. With all the large hands knocking on my door, I should reconsider my priorities, he advised. Because money isn’t one—not in the same way it is to him. It’s a factor, of course, but not the deciding one.

I meet her eyes. “I like Boston,” I say, punching my foot on the brake at another red light.

“Why?”

Yeah—why?

I expected it, Zoe’s favorite word—her innate need to understand, to reason and rationalize every little thing. Every decision, every action, every emotion.

I can’t satisfy her expectations with an answer I’m not fully sure I have.

“I found my home here.” The green light ricochets on her irises with each blink. “When you find your place in the world, you grab it, teeth and claws.” My left foot eases on the clutch and I face the street again. “You fight for it.”

Once again she’s quiet, processing as I worry I said more than I had intended.

A ringing phone startles us just as the car nosedives into the garage. Our night quickly approaches its end. Despite all the ways it went sideways, I don’t want it to end just yet.

“Hi, baby! How are you? How’s that nasty injury?” Mom fires before I can greet her, worrying about the minor injury that left me out of today’s match.

“Hey, Mom. Almost all good.”

She squints. “I love these calls, but the quality of HD TV is much better for seeing you.”

“And he doesn’t speak, so that’s a plus,” Zoe mumbles from her side of the car, then snaps a comic hand on her mouth with wide eyes.

On the other side of the line, mom leans closer to the screen like she’ll get a better view that way. “What’s that, honey?”

My cheeks hitch higher with a grin. “Zoe is here. We’re heading home.”

“Oh, I did see you two on TV!”

Her smile is conspiratorial before she waves her free hand, demanding I put my girlfriend on the line. Meanwhile, said girlfriend tries and fails to melt into the leather seat.

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