Page 84 of The Lessons

“Um, yeah, that sounds fun. I mean, I guess you’re right. I do need to meet more people.”

I felt my vagina glare at me.

“We’re playing tomorrow evening. Why don’t you swing by around six?” He slid a perfect omelet onto a plate and set it in front of me.

“Um, yeah.” I picked up my fork and tried to sound nonchalant. “Sounds great.”

~

I left work at five thirty on the dot the next day. I had been using too much sick time for appointments and couldn’t possibly claim another.

Even though I did have another appointment. Sorta.

An appointment withdestiny!

Oh, Jesus Christ, Natalie. Get ahold of yourself!

Sad, right?

As I got ready, the butterflies were once again knocking around in my stomach like big lead balloons, except this time it wasn’t because I was nervous about having sex. It was because I was excited to see Ryan.

There, I’d said it. I was excited to see Ryan. Because Ilikedhim. I blushed as I applied the last of my mascara, feeling like a fucking schoolgirl.

I took an Uber to the soccer field because it was my first time going to Golden Gate Park and well, I also didn’t have a car. As we drove, I took in the lush greenery of the park before we made a left at the beach, finally coming to a stop in a parking lot outside the fields. I paid the driver and stepped out, the salty air from the Pacific Ocean helping to calm my nerves.

Was I really doing this? Was I really showing up at Ryan’s game, like a teenage girl showing up at her boyfriend’s…well, soccer practice?

I was.

I wandered over to the edge of the fields, searching for his dark hair. I passed through the gate and slowly made my way around the field, staring out into the clusters of people. There were several teams playing, so I scanned the crowd, wondering how I’d ever find him.

“Reese!” A voice called out.

I whipped around, and sure enough, Ryan was jogging up to me.

If I had been holding books, I would have dropped them all. Again.

Because. He. Looked. Delicious.

I hadn’t accounted for him being in his soccer uniform. Or outfit. Or whatever you called the sexy shirtless-ness that was now in front of me. He was sweaty, glistening, tan, toned, and—my God—with those tattoos, he looked like David fucking Beckham.

DavidfuckingBeckham, ladies.

Swoon, thy name is Ryan Andrews. I thought I was going to pass out right there.

“You came!” He slowed to a walk as he sidled up to me, grinning.

Uh, yes, right in my pants. Right now. Practically.

“I said I would,” I responded, trying to smile. “I hope it’s still okay? I mean, I can go.”

“No way. Stay, please. I asked you to come. We’re almost done, and we’re going to get a beer after. You should come with us. I can introduce you to the guys.”

I nodded, unable to speak as my mind apparently had completely turned to mashed potatoes. He showed me to the bleachers, and I made small talk with his teammate’s wife while Ryan finished up on the field. Regina was sweet and friendly, and she had a cute little baby with her. But I wasn’t really paying attention to the baby because, holy mother of Moses, remember how I’d thought Ryan was fairly athletic? Well, I’d been wrong. He wasincrediblyathletic. Clearly the star player on the team. Any time one of the other players got in trouble, they passed the ball to him. It was an incredible turn-on to see him concentrating so hard and maneuvering the ball with such skill. I found myself pressing my thighs together, looking for some relief for the ache that was growing between my legs. I wasn’t sure what the score was—there wasn’t a scoreboard—but Ryan managed to get the ball in the goal-thing twice. By the time the game ended, the other team looked torn up and exhausted.

As they shook hands with the other team, I followed Regina and slowly made my way over to the group. I stood a few feet away, not wanting to intrude, but Ryan spotted me as he pulled on his shirt.

“Hey, guys, I want you to meet someone,” he said, pulling me over by my hand.

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