Page 18 of Bad Teammate
“Once upon a time,” I admitted.
Excitement sparked in his eye. “Yeah? You wanna play it? That poor thing deserves to be played by someone who knows what they’re doing.”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
“Ah well. If you want to, feel free.” He set his guitar aside. “So, Katerina, what do you do in Russia? Are you a student?”
“I’m done with school. I work as a translator now.”
His eyes lit up. “Thatexplains it. Your English is perfect. You’ve only got a trace of an accent.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “I studied English in school, but I must’ve watchedmillionsof YouTube videos to try to sound more American.”
“That’s so funny. I’ve lived with your brother for the past two months, and in all that time I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything in English besides ‘me love score goals.’”
“Ugh.” I practically gagged hearing that abomination of a sentence. “His grammar makes me want to die.”
Derek and I both shared a laugh.
“You want to know the worst part?” I asked, letting the question hang. “I’mresponsible for it.”
“Wait,youtaught him to say, ‘me love score goals’ ?” Derek asked, and we laughed some more.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off his sleeve tattoo—it was an intricate and eye-pleasing design made with sacred geometrical shapes. I badly wanted to inspect it more closely, run my fingers over it, decipher its meaning.
“No,” I said, “I taught him to say, ‘I love to score goals,’ but now he’s butchering it. I tried to teach him some very basic English before he came to America, but that was the one and only phrase he wanted to learn. I told him his new teammates would think he was an ass if that was all he could say, but he didn’t care.”
“Oh, and trust me, we did. Until we saw him play, anyway—that shut us up pretty quick.” Derek shook his head. “But hey, he inspired the team’s catchphrase this year. Every time a guy scores a sick goal, everyone on the bench starts shouting, ‘Me love score goals! Me love score goals!’ ”
“No! Don’t,” I laughed, my hand briefly darting to his tattooed forearm. Ridges of hard muscle bulged beneath my fingertips. “He’ll never learn proper English if you guys keep that up. You’re only encouraging him.”
“Well, why doesn’t he just hireyouto be his personal translator? I mean, wouldn’t that make sense for you both?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve gotten a glimpse of how we are with each other. You really think either of us would enjoy that arrangement?”
“Point taken.” He stared at me for a moment. “You know, I never would’ve guessed you two were brother and sister.”
“No?”
“No. Niko is like … so …” Derek’s features puckered as he searched for the right word. “How do I put this nicely—uh, rough around the edges?”
“Aw,” I giggled, feeling bad. “Sasha is a handsome boy. You just wouldn’t know it, because he doesn’t clean up well.”
“Hm.” Derek thought it over. “Yeah, maybe if he’d get a haircut and a shave, he wouldn’t be so bad.” He paused. “Butyou,Katerina …?” he said, speaking my name so softly, so reverently.
He locked his eyes on mine, making my heart flutter.
Sure, part of me wanted to knowexactlywhat he thought of me, besides what I already knew: that he thought I wasreally fuckin’ cute. Another part of me, however, dreaded it. Because if he said the right thing—or was it thewrongthing?—we could find ourselves in alotof trouble.
The space between us began to shrink, as if some magnetic force was drawing us closer. Was heseriouslyabout to kiss me? My heart began to speed, my pulse poundingin my neck. I couldn’t believe this was really happening, so I just closed my eyes and waited.
Oh, God,I thought as I anxiously awaited the tender touch of his lips against mine,I hope he won’t be able to tell how nervous I am!
…
..
.
