Текст книги "Scoring Wilder"

Автор книги: R. S. Grey

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Three

I narrowed my eyes. Had my drunken ears heard him right? Coach?

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

His eyes hardened and his jaw ticked once back and forth. "As of tomorrow, I'll be helping out the ULA women's soccer team for a few months."

No. No. No, thank you. That's not possible. He couldn't be my coach. He was too busy licking models to coach a soccer team.

"Kinsley!" Becca called my name from across the room, and I looked up to see her and the sophomore girls waving me over.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, but my head was too foggy. Why did someone put a fog machine in there? I 48/890

dropped my ice pack in the sink and slunk off the counter.

"Better get some sleep, Kinsley. You have quite an early morning tomorrow,"

Liam noted with a smile. I stepped to move past him, but then I thought of something.

"How'd you know I was on the ULA team?" I asked.

He grinned, and for a moment I thought I was going to have to pound my chest to make my heart keep beating. He had slight dimples and perfectly straight teeth. That grin should be tucked away and brought out only for special occasions– where heart de-fibrillators would be present and accounted for.

"You were the top recruit in the country.

There's not a person in the soccer world that 49/890

doesn't know who you are," he answered with confidence.

I’d been featured in a few magazines in high school, but damn. Liam Wilder knew who I was. He knew me enough to recognize me at a party… and tomorrow he would be my coach.

Oh god. I just almost sniffed his shirt and then I asked him if he’d show me his tattoos.

I'm in major trouble.

With that thought, I nodded and turned away from him to find my teammates. I had to fill them in stat. We had a lot of Googling to do.

"Are you okay? And more importantly, were you just talking to Liam Wilder?" Emily asked with wide eyes as soon as I reached 50/890

them. Becca was standing directly behind her with her mouth hanging open.

"Yes, and you won't even believe what I have to tell you guys, but I should wait until later." The party was still going strong and I didn't want to squeal about what I'd just found out in front of all these people. Word would probably get back to Liam before I even reached the front door.

"Okay, that sounds really mysterious.

Now I'm even more curious," Emily answered.

"You should be," I laughed, and then tugged her and Becca through the crowd toward the door. "I'm kind of tired. Do you guys want to share a cab back to the house with me?"

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"Kinsley!" someone called from across the room just as I’d asked my question.

Josh.

Damnit, with everything going on I'd completely forgotten he would even be at the party. I shifted my gaze just as I saw him pushing through the crowd and calling my name again. He looked cute as always with his dark brown hair and boyish face. Too bad I knew what kind of asshole he actually was.

"Kinsley, wait up!"

Every person in that living room was watching him trying to get to me. Did he have to keep yelling my name like that? I clearly wasn't going anywhere.

Just as he was about to reach me, I saw movement in the doorway to the kitchen and then Liam stepped into the living room. Oh, 52/890

great. Let’s make it a show. Maybe we could flip the lights on and cut the music so everyone could have a front row seat.

"Josh, seriously, not now. I'm tired and drunk, and it's my birthday." I stepped closer to Becca and Emily.

"I know. I'm so sorry. I tried to call you and I even sent flowers to the house. Did you get them?"

He meant the roses that I had shredded in the disposal earlier that morning.

Whoops.

"Yes. I got them Josh, but I don't want to talk right now." I ground my molars together.

"Just let me make it up to you. Can I come see you later this week? Maybe we can get coffee after you're done with practice one 53/890

day?" His voice was carrying over the party, and I was painfully aware of everyone's eyes on me. I couldn't very well make a scene in front of all those people. He deserved to be punched in the face, but seeing as how I had already incurred one injury on my birthday, I decided to give in.

"Fine. Just text me, but you need to realize we aren't getting back together." I turned away from him and started to make my way to the front door. I tuned out everything around me. I didn't want to hear if Josh said anything else as I walked away. I didn't want to know if Liam had heard that entire ridiculous exchange. I just wanted my pajamas and fuzzy socks.

…

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"Are you serious?!" Becca screamed.

"Dude! If you scream in my ear again I will punch you in the uterus."

Becca, Emily, and I were lying on my bed back at the Rookie House. Four days before, I'd moved into the rookie house where I'd stay for my freshman year of college. It was within walking distance from the ULA campus and a few miles from our practice fields.

"Okay, I'm sorry, but you're not kidding, right? I can't tell if you're joking," Becca laughed.

I rolled over and gave her a dead-serious look, but I was still tipsy so I ended up laughing when she started making faces at me.

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"Ugh, okay. Just believe me. He told me at the party that he was coaching us starting tomorrow."

"But why? He doesn't need the money and surely he's already busy enough," Emily protested. I’d been wondering the same thing. I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't heard it come out of his own mouth. A perfectly supple mouth, fyi.

"Oh, look at this!" Becca said, pointing to my computer’s scene. "This article talks about him volunteering as a soccer coach with the ULA team after a few of his sponsors got onto him for his ‘bad-boy’ ways. It says they gave him an ultimatum: get dropped from their labels or clean up his act."

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"They couldn't drop him! He's the best soccer player in the US!" I argued.

"Obviously. But this article says he’s a huge liability," Emily muttered.

"Well, he seemed fine earlier and he wasn't even drinking," I defended him, trying to recall the scent of his cologne from memory. It was probably called Nectar of the Gods.

"Well the night is still young, so maybe he started partying hard after we left," Emily murmured. "He's really hot, though, I have to admit."

"She does have a pulse!" I joked, poking her in the lungs.

"Hey! Yes, okay. I'm not immune to Liam Wilder, but it doesn't matter– he's our coach now."

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Ugh, she just had to kill my buzz.

"Not until tomorrow," I clarified.

"How old is he?" Emily asked.

"Twenty-five," Becca answered, having known it off the top of her head.

"Do you think he has a girlfriend?" I asked.

"Well according to Google images, he has about one thousand of them. Seriously, does this man sleep?" Becca clicked through photos, but I didn't look.

"Gross, close it," I groaned, lying back and staring up at my ceiling.

"He's never been linked to anyone in particular, though. He's photographed with women, but he's never gone public with a relationship. For being a media darling, his life is relatively private. These photos of him 58/890

with women are mostly at fundraisers and parties," Becca explained.

I wasn't sure what to make of that information. Did he not have a girlfriend because he liked to play the field? Or did the media just not know about it?

"So, what happened with Josh? That was super awkward," Emily asked, trying to broach the subject lightly. There wasn’t time to fill Becca and Emily in about what had transpired with Josh, so I’m sure they weren’t prepared for the scene back at the party.

Emily probably wasn’t sure how heartbroken I felt about the whole situation.

"I walked in on him cheating on me a few weeks ago.” I paused as Becca and Emily gasped Jerry Springer style. “We’d been friends for a long time, but only dated for a 59/890

few months. He sucks major cojones, and we aren't getting back together. He still probably has that Bimbo on retainer."

"But he's really cute," Becca cut in.

"He's hot, but there's hotter..."

"Liam," Becca and Emily both inserted, and we started laughing all over again.

"You should date Liam to get back at Josh. Could you even imagine?" Becca started rambling. "If there is anyone on the team who even has a chance at dating him, it's definitely you.”

“Oh please,” I said, rolling my eyes at the idea.

“No, I mean it! Who gets offered sponsorships from Adidas when they're in high school? Beautiful people like you." She fake 60/890

rolled her eyes and then I grabbed a pillow and bonked it on her head.

"Hey! What the—"

"I'm not dating Liam to get back at Josh," I laughed, hitting her again.

“So date him to not get back at Josh,” she suggested.

I bonked her on the head again.

"So help me, you're about to start something you don't want to finish," Becca laughed, grabbing a pillow of her own.

Poor Emily was right in the crossfire.

"Emily, here take my pillow." I paused, eyeing Becca with a small wink. Her smile told me she understood my wicked plan.

"Oh thanks, I thought you guys—"

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She didn't get to finish her sentence before Becca and I, how should I say, brought the pillow pain train into the station.

"What the fuck, guys!" Emily screamed and laughed, trying to break free. She eventually did and ended up almost knocking me out with a perfectly timed pillow punch.

"Mercy! Jeez Emily, you're quiet and cute, but then you almost break my neck with a pillow. I am now officially scared of you," I joked as Emily and Becca sat on top of me so that I couldn't move. "But in all seriousness, my birthday would have sucked without you two. I'm really glad you'll both be on the soccer team with me."

Becca answered my sweet declaration by smothering me under my goose down comforter. Girls are vicious.

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After they eventually wandered back to their own rooms, I laid awake contemplating what tomorrow would have in store. I knew it was going to be a rude awakening for all of us rookies. We were the top athletes in high school, but starting tomorrow we’d be small fish in a big pond. The workouts would be harder, the practices would be longer, and the coaches would apparently be much, much hotter.

I checked my phone for last minute birthday messages. Every hour on the hour, my mom had sent me a text. Her last one had come at eleven.

Mom: Kinsley Grace, I'm so proud of all that you've accomplished. I really wish we could have flown in to be with you for the day, but I knew you'd want to spend the day 63/890

with your new friends. I mailed you a care package, and if you didn't receive it today, it'll definitely be there tomorrow. Hope you love it. You're a rock star. Good luck tomorrow. XO

Josh: Kinsley, please text me back. I'm so sorry and I know you need time to process everything, but I made a mistake and I want you back. Please consider it. Love u.

I groaned and dropped my phone back on the nightstand. Did he love me? Could he truly love me? If he loved me so much, couldn’t he have spelled out the word you? I prayed for his sake, and mine, that he didn't.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. There were no excuses. He wasn't drunk or under the influence; his cheating was premeditated and I'd bet my life that it 64/890

wasn't the first time. The thought of getting revenge by sleeping with Liam sounded good for about thirty seconds, and then I thought about the fact that I didn't really care about Josh enough to go through all of that to spite him. Now if there was some other reason to sleep with Liam Wilder...

…

"Hey, wake up or you won't have time to eat before practice. Oh, and you have a giant package downstairs." Becca's voice pulled me out of deep sleep and I groaned loudly. Hangover, meet brain. Brain, meet hangover.

"God, this sucks." I groaned again and shoved myself out of bed. I didn't have time to be hung-over. I had to eat breakfast and get hydrated for practice. I followed Becca 65/890

downstairs where my tired teammates were sitting around in their pajamas eating breakfast and looking like really in-shape zombies.

Scary.

The clock on top of the stove read 5:30

A.M. Jeez, this would be a long summer.

Practices started at 6:00 A.M. Monday through Friday for the foreseeable future.

"There she is!" Emily called as I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. "Open your package!"

"Is there a stripper in the box?" I asked as I walked toward the kitchen table.

As I bent over the package, Becca caught my eye and mouthed, "It's Liam". I stuck my tongue out at her and started ripping the tape off.

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My mom is extravagant and since she can afford it, she usually gives gifts that are way too over the top. That day was no exception. Inside of the box there was enough soccer gear to clothe the entire team. She'd sent me new sports bras, running shorts, leggings, dri-FIT shirts that would fit me like a glove, and some new HYPERVENOM

cleats that weren't supposed to be released for another month. Oh, and they were bright pink. My mom knew me well.

"Are those what I think they are?" Becca asked, eyeing the cleats with envy.

"I have no clue how she got these, but somehow I'm not surprised."

Like they would for most girls, getting new shoes and clothes momentarily trumped my hangover. I ran up to my room and put 67/890

on a new matching set of workout gear before I grabbed my phone to text my mom.

Kinsley: THANK YOU for the birthday gifts. It's too much, but I'll give my teammates some of the gear, too. I'll call you after practice. XX

By the time I finished getting ready, I had to grab a granola bar to eat on the road.

"Here, I bet you didn't remember these,"

Emily said, handing me two Advil.

"Yes! Thank you, thank you." The excitement of my new workout gear was starting to pale in comparison to my serious hangover.

The granola bar and bumpy car ride hadn't settled my stomach, and by the time we made it to the practice field, I felt like I was going to throw up everywhere.

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The seniors met us at the doors to the soccer field house with wicked smiles.

"Looking a little worse for wear there, Rookies," Tara laughed, her eyes pinned straight on me. "How you feeling, Bryant?"

Her question seemed sweet, but her tone implied that it wasn't meant to be.

"Peachy." I smiled and reached down to grab my water out of my bag.

"Let's go. Coach wants to meet us in the conference room." Tara turned and opened the door so we could file in behind her. But just before she stepped inside, I heard the same sexy voice that I’d heard the previous night– the voice that said, I'm sexy and I know it.

"Morning ladies."

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Every single girl froze and we turned in unison. Liam Wilder was standing a few feet away wearing workout gear and a friendly smile. Of course his friendly smile could easily be misconstrued for a take-your-panties-off smile, so it's a wonder we all managed to mutter shocked hellos. I guess he'd pulled up in the parking lot a few minutes after we did.

I peered behind him and saw a black Mer-cedes SUV parked in the spot closest to the field house. A photographer was snapping pictures on the other side of the fence. Jeez, they wake up this early to get pictures of him?

"Oh, hi Liam." Tara smiled wide.

I shot Becca a gag-me face.

"You guys should probably call me Coach Wilder while we're at practice," he 70/890

admonished. I had to fight to keep from cracking up. The shocked look on Tara's face was absolutely priceless, but it still wasn't enough to make me forget the awkwardness of the situation.

I couldn't look up at him. The last time we'd spoken, I'd literally asked him to show me his tattoos, which we both knew really meant I wanted him to show me his soccer balls. Hah. I'd have to tell Becca that one later. I tugged her and Emily forward without acknowledging Liam and headed for the conference room. Thankfully, Coach Davis was there already and Liam didn't follow us in.

"Take a seat, girls," Coach Davis instructed with a small smile. The best way to describe

our

coach

would

be

as…

a

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grandmotherly drill sergeant. On the outside, she had greying hair and kind blue eyes, but when you least expected, she'd make you drop and do fifty pushups. She was one of the main reasons I'd picked ULA. She was the top women's soccer coach in the nation and I wanted her to teach me how to im-prove my game.

"Morning, Coach." I smiled and took a seat near the front of the small room with Becca and Emily.

After the rest of the team filed in, Coach Davis began to fill us in about practices and what she expected of us throughout the season.

"As you probably noticed, we have a new coach this morning," she began, and I could 72/890

practically feel everyone's ears perk up to attention.

Coach Davis scanned around the room with a stern expression. "Coach Wilder will be with us for a few months. However, he'll only be with us during the morning drills because he has his own team's practices in the afternoon."

"Why's he here?" one of the junior girls asked.

"Every LA Stars player volunteers. Liam has helped our program in the past, and I didn’t hesitate to have him back again this year. Any other questions?"

"Why isn't he coaching the boy's team?"

Sofie asked from the back row where the seniors had quarantined themselves.

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"One of our assistant coaches is on maternity leave, so when the LA Stars contacted me, I thought it was a perfect time to bring him on. He's a top soccer player and he’ll be a source of knowledge for all of you.

However, I still feel the need to clarify that he is not here for your personal entertain-ment. Please use your judgment when it comes to any fraternization away from practice... I have no problem kicking you off this team faster than you can count that man's tattoos."

His tattoos. The same tattoos that I’d asked to see the night before. Okay, the uni-verse was taunting me.

"So I shouldn't tackle him on the soccer field?" Becca whispered behind me, and I 74/890

almost laughed in the middle of Coach Davis'

speech.

"Um, Coach," Tara raised her hand in the air so that she'd be seen from the back,

"some of us know Liam outside of practice.

We're friends with the LA Stars' players, so we'll see him at parties."

Coach Davis nodded but kept her cool facade. "You’ll refer to him as Coach Wilder while we’re here,” she clarified with a hard tone. “I understand that a few of you run in the same circle as Coach Wilder and avoiding him

completely

would

be

impossible.

However, I’d like you to distance yourself from him in social settings until he is no longer a coach here."

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A knock sounded at the door and a second later Liam stepped in quietly. "Are you ready for me?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. We are all ready for you.

"Good timing, Coach Wilder. Please come in and introduce yourself. I'm going to go set up drills out on the field. You can meet me out there with the girls in about ten minutes.” She headed for the door, but my eyes were trained on the space she’d last occupied. “Oh, and girls, be sure to leave Saturday morning open. We have a team bonding activity. We'll meet here at 7:00

A.M. sharp."

I didn't even register her team bonding comment. I was more concerned about what she'd said before that.

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"Drills?" I whispered to Becca. I'd worn my workout clothes, but it was only because that's what I wore on most days anyway. I thought today was just a learning day.

"Do you still feel sick?" she asked with a wary gaze.

"Like a small toddler is smashing a toy truck onto my head," I answered as Liam took his position at the front of the room.

"Hi everyone. I'm not sure how much Coach Davis has told you, but I'll be with the team for the next couple of months. I'll help you guys with morning drills, and since I've played as a midfielder and striker for most of my career, those are the positions I'll be working with the most."

Oh goodie. He'd be helping me perfect my skills as a midfielder. Unfortunately, 77/890

about ten other girls also fit that bill, including Tara and Sofie. Becca and Emily were both defenders, so I wouldn't even have them to joke around with.

"Does anyone have any questions for me?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Becca whispered beside me, and I kicked her under the table.

Liam must have noticed her whisper because he glanced over toward us. His grey eyes met mine and I almost choked on my own tongue. It was the first time we'd made eye contact since he arrived that morning and I should have given myself more of a pep talk. He's a normal person. Don't let him take over your brain. It was no use. He wore his black t-shirt in a way that made me lose 78/890

focus on everything beyond his reach. His tattoos were just barely visible. His hair was mussed on top like he'd run his fingers through it when he’d rolled out of bed.

And I was expected to concentrate when he was around?