Page 73 of Striking Heat
Once we land and the cell signal is back on, he turns his phone on and mine vibrates.
Danny:I think it worked. I think we fooled them.
I think it might have worked too. But a little too well, because right now, I don’t even believe there was ever anything between us. Not with the look in his sharp blue eyes or the tone he tookwith me. It feels like we’ve come full circle, and we’re back to square one with the saucy words and the quips in headlines that hurt.
Chapter Thirty
~MAC~
The Washington Spirit is a very physical team, which means we have to play tough. They’re doing a great job of pushing us off the ball and the refs don’t seem too interested in calling anything. Coach Watts yells again about using their whistle. I swear he’s going to get a card before this is over.
A defender is coming at me. I can see her out of the corner of my eye as I dribble down the field. I’m headed for the goal, and she’s doing her damnedest to stop me. But I’m not going to let her push me around. Her shoulder comes hard into mine. I move a bit, but I keep my composure and remain with the ball. I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s going to do it again. I decide to pull back a bit and see if I can get around her. Pulling the ball back, I watch as she moves a bit ahead and gets ready to double back.
There’s a defender behind me, which I didn’t realize until it was too late. She ends up clotheslining me and knocking me to the ground. I lie there for a moment and look up at my teammates, who are crowding around me. I can hear Watts going crazy. I’m wondering if the foul wasn’t called. I stand up and look over at Cassie, whose eyes are narrowed with concern.
“Are you good?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, breathing heavily. Lucas is on the sideline, watching me. Probably waiting to see if he needs to enter the field. I give him a thumbs-up and he nods. “That was in the box she called a PK, right?”
Cassie shakes her head.
“Motherfucker,” I whisper shout. I can’t have them hear me swearing. They aren’t calling fouls the way they should be, but I’m sure they’ll call a foul on me cursing.
“It’s going to be a free kick,” Maria, our right wing, tells me.
“Of course it is. What does it take to get a good call here?” I mutter.
“Motherfucking miracle,” Maria replies.
We bump fists and I turn to the ref. She’s pointing at the spot where the ball should be placed.
“Okay, okay,” I tell her. “It should be a PK though,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” she asks me. Judging by the pleased smile on her face, she would do anything to card me right now.
“Can I get my ten yards, please?” I ask her. The players should be ten yards from me when I get a free kick. They never line up that way, so most times you have to ask them to move back a bit so that you have good clearance.
“Sure can,” she replies, walking up to the wall of Spirit players so that she can move them back.
I look over at Cassie and wink. Free kicks like this have always been my strong suit. I’m a strong player when it comes to nailing a free kick, or a PK. My percentage of making them is definitely higher than missing. I take a deep breath and look at the wall in front of me. All of them are glaring at me. I just smile sweetly at them because I know that pisses them off. They do it to be intimidating. They want you to fall off your game with their glares, but it doesn’t work for me.
The whistle blows and I send the ball flying. It goes past thegoalie and into the net. The Blaze players go crazy and so does some of the crowd. I swear I can hear Danny’s whooping from the press box. I want to look up, but I don’t. Instead, I embrace my teammates as we celebrate taking a one-nothing lead. Lining back up, we get ready to keep on playing the game.
We’re already into the second half, and only one goal has been scored. My goal. I serve the ball up to Kelsey and she takes to the net and scores another one, putting us up two-nothing.
We’re on a roll!
Later in the game, I’m going shoulder to shoulder with a defender. She’s laying on me and, of course, the ref isn’t doing anything. I doubt she’ll stop the game and talk with her like she should. Instead, she lets it play on. Sometimes that’s fine, because I like it when they let it be a little physical and let us play. But this is becoming a bit ridiculous. She pushes and pushes me, and I’m at my breaking point, which is probably what she wants. But I can’t keep my head about me when I can’t even stay with the ball long enough. I’ve had to pass ball after ball to my teammates because of all the pressure of her laying on me.
Finally, I’ve had enough. The play ends and I give her a good shove. I hear a whistle blow, and I mutter to myself, “Of fucking course.”
The ref comes over and holds up the yellow card in my face. I just nod.
“Thank you!” some players and fans call out.
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
“Ref! Ref, did you hear that?” one of the Spirit players asks.
