Page 17 of Romancing My Grumpy Goalie

Unfortunately,part of Play it Forward means attending Nolan’s games. While I’ve been to his practices before, I was there to hang out with Jace or do him a favor, but when it comes to mentoring a kid at his game, I’m extremely bad at it. I don’t have enough patience or mental energy to be the kind of cheerleader Nolan needs.

His mom, on the other hand? She has the cheerleading thing down to a science. She might as well be doing jumping jacks, and no one would notice a difference.

And why does it have to be so hot? It’s March, a month known for windy days, rain, and chilly weather. But no. It has to be in the eighties, and I was the genius who decided to wear black.

Kids are running back and forth with the ball, and moms grab their little ones as they dart onto the soccer field.

“That’s it—command your box, Nolan,” I call. “Great job.”

Two of the other mothers are studying me from their folding camping chairs. They have the soccer mom thing down. Sporty tank tops, shorts, sturdy athletic shoes, holding fountain drinks. Probably full of Diet Coke. Who knows, maybe a shot or two of something stronger. They keep putting their heads together andtalking after looking at me. Finally, they meet my gaze and stand and head over to me. Great. Here we go.

“Are you Nolan’s dad?” the one with the abnormally white teeth asks.

“No.”

“His uncle?” the one with the overdone spray tan wants to know.

“Nope.” How many questions are they going to ask?

“His mom’s boyfriend?” Ms. Blinding Smile asks.

I grind out, “I’m his mentor,” before they can continue down that train of thought.

Anabelle, who has somehow wandered closer since my attack started, looks over and smiles at me, clearly enjoying my plight way too much.

“Watch out!” one of the moms yells.

A rogue soccer ball sails through the air toward me. My goalie reflexes immediately kick in, and I snap into action, catching it midair.

It’s like time freezes for a moment, and all goes quiet. Everyone is staring at me.

“Lucas, that was so cool,” Nolan says in awe.

I shrug a shoulder. “Not really,” I grumble.

But Anabelle is looking at me like one of those emojis with stars in their eyes. Or maybe it’s the one with the hearts. But as soon as she catches me looking at her, she swaps her expression for a bored one, looking away from me.

“Okay, but why was that kinda attractive?” Aubrey says way too loudly from beside Anabelle.

Anabelle rolls her eyes and elbows her.

I sigh. “Someone, please put me out of my misery,” I mutter to myself.

When we get to halftime, the players crowd around Anabelle, who is passing out snacks. I reach into my bag and grab a Gatorade.

Just as I’m about to open my drink, there’s a stir by Anabelle’s chair.

“I could have sworn there were enough drinks here for everyone,” Anabelle says.

Nolan squirms and looks up sheepishly. “Sorry, Mom. I drank one on the way over.”

Anabelle sighs. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

“It’s no big deal.” The kid’s face is red from running in the heat. He’s trying to act tough, but it’s clear he needs to rehydrate.

I hand my unopened Gatorade to Jacob. “You can have this one.”

Jacob brightens. “Thanks, Coach Lucas!”

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