Part 4 (2/2)
”Maybe you do. You're letting this guy walk all over you and he isn't worth it. You think you're the one,” he said those two little annoying words with a very bad Movie Announcer Guy voice. ”But he's spending all his time with her. What does that say?”
Luke and his stupid all-seeing superpower.
”I don't think I'm the one,” I snapped, mimicking his bad impersonation. ”We're friends. We worked together this summer.”
”Pfft.” Is that even a word?
”If you think that getting chummy with me is going to get you on that field come pre-season, think again. I'm no one's gateway to the soccer land.”
”That's what you think? You think I'm trying to get in with you?”
I rolled my eyes. Isn't that what I'd just said?
A group of freshmen piled out of a parent-driven minivan at the end of the walkway and headed our direction. I used the distraction to contemplate a getaway.
”I think you're lying.” He grabbed my arm and leaned down toward me. ”I think you don't let anyone see you. You fly so low under the radar, you're dodging treetops. Now you think something's going somewhere it isn't. I don't know what you're doing throwing your efforts away as stats girl, but if it's for him? Pfft, you're wasting your time. Not only does he not see you, he only sees himself.”
”You don't know what you're talking about. I'm not here for him. I'm here to be stats girl. Not all of us are bimbos. Some of us actually like sports.”
”You keep playing this social peek-a-boo game and let me know how that works for you.” He jerked his head toward the door Chris had disappeared through. ”He doesn't see you. He just sees the girl who's going to get him what he wants.”
With that, Luke stormed into the school letting the door drop behind him.
His mother would not be impressed.
Neither was I.
Chapter 6.
Chris carried the card table down to the field and began unfolding it next to where I'd put Coach's binders.
”What did Parker say to you?” he asked.
”Nothing. He's just grumpy. Not a morning person.”
I lied to Chris. Chris Kent. What was I thinking?
I glanced across the field to where Luke stood-arms crossed, weight s.h.i.+fted on one leg-scowling in our direction. Not even just our general direction. Right at us.
Chris shoved one of the legs into place and locked it there. ”He's sniffing around in all the wrong places.”
I honestly didn't know whether I should be ecstatic or offended by that statement.
”I'll talk to him,” Chris continued. ”Let him know where he stands.”
Oh. My. Gosh.
”How are you getting home after morning tryouts?” he asked.
Chris still squatted next to the table, pus.h.i.+ng the rusted legs out and forcing their locks to hold. His hair gleamed in the sunlight and it took every ounce of unknown willpower I had not to reach out and run my hand through it.
”I don't know.” Even I could hear the hope in my voice. Since Cheryl had driven herself, she wouldn't need him to take her home.
”Okay. Cool.” He straightened and ran his own hand through his hair. I watched as every strand fell back in its rightful place. ”Let me know if Parker says anything funny to you.”
”Okay. Thanks, Chris.”
”No problem, babe.” He jogged away, joining the circle of guys stretching at midfield.
”Whalen,” Coach bellowed at me from a few feet away. ”We're going to work them hard. I need accurate counts today.”
”No problem, Coach.”
He strode off blowing his whistle and shouting for attention.
For three hours I timed laps, counted shots, blocks and saves, and generally tracked everything everyone did. At eleven, Coach gathered the team and glared at them as they stretched-or fought for consciousness-on the ground before him.
”Men, you've made it through the first four sessions. Tonight is your last free ride. Tomorrow I announce tryout captains and begin cuts. Go home. Stretch. Hydrate. I'll see you in eight hours.”
Without another word, he strode off the field. Guys collapsed on the gra.s.s laughing, groaning. I collected the binders and made my way toward the school.
”Hey, babe. Wait up.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Chris jogging my direction.
”What did you think of tryouts today?”
”They're going really well.”
”Yeah?” he asked, a surprising amount of uncertainty in his voice.
The brief show of vulnerability widened my smile.
”You think I'm doing all right?” he continued.
I s.h.i.+fted the binders and laid my free hand on his arm. ”I think you're doing great. You had a high shot on goal percentage and your times are really good. He'd be crazy not to name you one of the captains.”
Chris's gaze dropped to the binders. ”Is he making notations or anything?”
I laughed. The man didn't even sign his own dailies. He had me do that. I wasn't sure Coach Sarche knew how to hold a pen.
”He claims it's all locked in his head. But at least he's going to announce it tomorrow. Sounds like first thing, huh?”
”Yeah.” Chris glanced down at the lower field where the cheerleaders still did their jumping around thing. ”How are Parker's stats?”
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