Page 54 of The Keeper
The ball bounces around, my eyes trained on it as it pops back and forth between my knees and feet. This is one exercise I’ve never been very good at, keeping the ball in motion without letting it touch the ground. But today I’m doing pretty well.
Kick, kick, knee, kick, kick, knee, knee.
My eyes feel like lasers on the blue and yellow orb in front of me. My mind is clear. My focus is sharp. The whistle finally blows and I let the ball fall to the grass at my feet, my eyes shooting up to the person responsible for my current state of mind.
Mack.
I’ve felt his eyes on me all morning. Watching me run, critiquing my time at the net, encouraging my saves. I’d assumed that our conversation and kiss last night would make today weird. I was sure that I would be wrapped up in watching him, or focused onnotwatching him for fear of someone else seeing the affection in my eyes.
In an unforeseen turn of events, this morning has been an education of sorts. I’ve been focused, sharp, tapped into my team like I’ve never been before. I’m unsure whether this is because Mack is watching and I don’t want to look a fool, or whether our decision to try and figure things out has just calmed me to the point that I feel like I can be completely present at practice.
While Icouldfocus on the fact that we don’t really know what we are doing, I’ve instead chosen to accept the fact that I get to enjoy this with him now.
When practice concludes, I grab my bag and begin walking towards the locker room. A quick shower, and then I’m off to StubHub Center, where Jeremy and the LA Galaxy play. I hate that name. StubHub. But I guess it’s better than some of the other MLS stadiums.
I’m looking at you, Dick’s Sporting Goods Park.
Just as I am about to clear the field, I hear my name called out. Turning, I see Mack walking my direction, clipboard in hand, a mesh bag of soccer balls slung over his arm. I give him a small smile and wait as he walks closer. He looks delectable in his black and white track pants and sleeveless Glendale shirt, his muscles flexing with each step. His typical practice outfit is much different than Coach Johnson’s, who is always wearing khakis and a polo. But Mack wears those cutoff shirts like they’re going out of style.
And damn does he look good in them.
My smile grows as I remember him from last night, his hands tight on my waist as we… well, okay, we had a crazy romantic make out session and it was amazing.
Once we’d finally gotten our fill, he kissed my forehead, opened my car door, and told me he’d see me at practice. I promptly went home, snuggled up in bed, and spent over an hour replaying our conversation, the implications of a relationship, and the two of us trying to figure things out.
A small sigh escapes my lips, almost startling me out of my memory, reminding me that I’m still on the soccer field and there are other players around. My eyes dart around quickly, but I don’t think anyone caught me ogling him.
“What’s that smile for?” he asks, once he’s an arms length away from me.
I purse my lips and narrow my eyes, teasingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He chuckles. “I just wanted to ask…” he pauses, looks around, clears his throat, “… if you wanted to get together this afternoon. Hang out or something.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t today. Charlie and I are going to Jeremy’s game.” He nods, his eyes flicking again to my teammates who are trickling off the field and heading to the locker room. “Tonight? We can watch a movie?”
He shakes his head. “I’m taking Dean to do ‘guy stuff’ tonight - whatever that means.” He laughs. “Tomorrow?”
I also shake my head. “I’m meeting with Thomas so we can begin preparing for a presentation.” I see his jaw tense just slightly, and it sends a strange feeling rippling through my body. “Are you…?” I laugh lightly, shifting my bag up higher on my shoulder. “Does that bother you?”
“No. Why?”
I shrug. His demeanor has shifted slightly, his eyes a bit more brooding than before. But just as quickly as I see it, it passes.
“So you’re busy all day tomorrow?”
“Not all day, but I’ve got other homework and stuff too, and laundry and grocery shopping. Sunday’s normally my ‘catch-all’ day.”
“What about Monday?”
I shake my head again.
“Practice, class, practice, weekly date with Jeremy.”
He sighs with an exasperated smile.
“So we finally get our shit together and then can’t get our shit together.”
I laugh.
