Page 69 of Close Knit

We jog to the tunnel and line up. Sutton is on our left. My senses are alight. The weight of my kit, the familiar feel of my gloves, the cool kiss of my cleats against the floor.

I’m ready to win today.

My heart thumps fiercely as I stand among my teammates, the crowd’s impatience crashing around me, seeping into my bones.Be big.I chant my mantra silently, a prayer I’ve whispered since I was a kid with a football.Don’t be hasty. Be enormous. Own your box. Be big.

My shaky nerves settle as we all step forward, crossing the threshold from the musty confines of the tunnel into the open expanse of the pitch. The smell of dewy grass fills my lungs. The stadium roars to life—a cacophony of cheers and jeers. The vibrant green of the field stretches out endlessly, the goalposts at either end standing like sentinels. Above it all, a sea of purple jerseys swells and ripples in the stands, moving as one. A living, breathing entity.

The world seems to slow down as my team disperses into their positions. I step between the sticks. The sounds fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thump of my heartbeat.

I tap each side of the goalpost—left, then right—grounding myself.

Goalkeepers don’t win games; they save them. The weight of that responsibility is like a mountain on my shoulders. People will only remember the ones I miss. But I can bear it. I have what it takes.

You should try using your hands instead of just standing there!Rossi’s voice echoes in my head.The only thing you’re good at blocking is Overton’s chances of winning!Not today.Is your uniform too heavy? Why aren’t you diving?The nerves crawl up my arms, shoulders, and neck, tightening around my airway like a noose.Be better, Hastings.

Fuck this.Enough. I’ve had enough.

My gaze sweeps across the blur of the crowd.

Then, like a spotlight cutting through fog, I spot her in the directors box. Daphne is impossible to miss. Her lavender hair catches the sunlight, shimmering like a halo. She spins around, showing me the number on her back. 1. She’s wearing it, my jersey.

We cannot lose today with Daphne here, wearing my number.

Keeper’s jerseys are rarely seen in the stands, yet she wears mine with pride. A calm breaks into my chest, silencing the shouts in my mind.

This is my sanctuary. My box. I’m the last line of defense.Be big, I tell myself, making sure the only person in my mind is me.Just focus on the here and now.Daphne’s singsong voice somehow weaves its way through the chaos.

My very own good luck charm.

Be big. Be impenetrable.

The referee’s whistle cuts through the air, a sharp sound signaling the start of the game. I square my shoulders, cast one final look at my defenders, and steel myself for what’s to come.

This is it.

The game begins.

Win.

Chapter 17

Daphne

What a game we have here!Lyndhurst versus Sutton, with the Lions in the lead. Thanks in large part to their goalie. Hastings is putting on a masterclass of goalkeeping, denying the Sutton Strikers time and time again.

You’re right,Marty. He has been the linchpin of Lyndhurst’s defense today. It’s safe to say his move from Overton has seen him develop into a formidable force between the posts.

“Lyn,Lyn, Lyndhurst, Lyndhurst! Go, go, go, Lyndhurst!” I chant with the crowd.

Seated in the directors box, I basked in the warmth, munched on snacks, and sipped drinks all day. Famous faces surround me, with kids in Lyndhurst jerseys zipping around. Everyone’s laughing and chatting.

On the field, Cameron stands in a vibrant uniform that hugs his broad shoulders. He looks commanding, powerful, and attractive with a capital A. His muscles bulge under his tightshorts as he bends low, guarding the goal. If I wasn’t in public, I’m sure I’d be drooling.

My other friends sprint along the field, but none of them shine the way Cameron does.

Who knew sports could be this fun? I’m even able to follow the game a little, although I still don’t understand how anyone can run for ninety minutes straight.

I run my hands through my newly dyed hair—my merman connection from the botanical garden squeezed me in for a lilac root touch-up yesterday.

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