Liam came to stand in front of me, taking my hand in his. I let him because it was easier, but I wasn't sure I wanted him to touch me.
"The LA Stars were upset about the potential for bad press, but they wouldn’t kick 486/890
me off the team for something like this. A few of my sponsors were pissed and yeah, my most conservative sponsorship dropped me.
They don’t know how the media will spin the story and they didn’t want to take the chance on me. I’ll be able to talk the others down.
This afternoon, I told Coach Davis a toned down version of the truth— that Tara was interested in me and that I was interested in you. She was hazing you and a few other rookies and threatening to use false facts to get you kicked off the team."
"They weren't really false facts," I whispered.
"Technically, they were. We never had sex," Liam corrected. He was splitting hairs at that point, but I didn't care to argue.
"Coach Davis and I agreed that it'd be best if 487/890
I stopped coaching the team so that the drama could die down.”
“But aren’t you in trouble with the LA Stars?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t ever in trouble with the LA Stars. That was all just media bullshit. I've been playing better in the last few weeks than I have in my entire career.”
Had I just heard that right? He talked to Coach Davis and the LA Stars. He was telling me everything was okay. He was telling me that the worst of the storm had passed, but my brain wasn't catching up yet. My heart was still pounding and I just needed a few moments to absorb everything.
"Kinsley, it's settled now. We don't have to hide—"
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I shook my head, once and then twice, trying to clear everything out. Five minutes ago my worst fears had been bubbling over.
I’d had a taste of what it would be like if my soccer career was pulled out from under me and it’d been the scariest moment of my life.
I took a small step back from Liam.
"Kinsley?" he asked warily.
After everything he’d just explained, I should have felt relief, but instead I felt like I was hung-over from the day.
"I just need a few moments to think. I'm exhausted..." I answered honestly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Thank you for fixing everything. I know it was probably scary having the face everyone by yourself."
"Hey— I told you I would take care of it.
I didn't want you to worry. I would have 489/890
done anything to make sure that none of this touched you— that your career wouldn't be jeopardized."
His words felt good to hear, but I couldn't let them settle in. I was a full glass of water and life kept trying to pour more liquid in. The excess was pouring down the sides and spilling out. I just needed five freaking minutes of swallowing some of today’s events before I thought about adding more.
I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded before stepping around him. I think I had to block his appearance altogether; his dark eyes, his creased brow, his pouty lips. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to move past him.
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"Thank you, Liam. But today I realized how close I came to losing everything I've worked for and I feel like a royal idiot... like the loser that chooses a guy over the Olympics." I spun around and headed into the house.
“That’s it? You’re going to give up?” he yelled out behind me. I paused, staring down at the grass, too fearful of look back toward his brooding eyes. “I just put a lot on the line for you, Kinsley. I was out there fighting for you, fighting for us, the same day you and Josh were plastered all over the fucking in-ternet. But I did all of that because I wanted to be with you, I wanted the whole package—not the sneaking around, not the forbidden romance. I wanted to take you out on a real date and show you off because I wasn’t 491/890
afraid of starting something real with you…
so what are you scared of?”
His shoes crunched on the gravel, and I turned just in time to watch him hop into his front seat and slam the door closed. His en-gine roared to life, and in a moment he was gone, speeding down the street and leaving me with remnants of whiplash.
What was I scared of?
Chapter Eighteen
"I brought you dinner. Are you hungry?"
Becca asked, placing a bowl of soup and a sandwich on my nightstand.
"No, I'm just really tired," I answered,
“but thanks.”
It was Friday night and a few of the girls were heading to go see a movie. I'd opted to stay in my room and wallow. All I'd done the past 36 hours was eat, sleep, and breathe soccer. It was refreshing and just what I needed—to remind myself of my true love in life.
Becca pulled my comforter down so she could see my face. I think she expected me to be crying; instead she found unwashed hair and smeared make-up. There might have also been some melted chocolate on my chin 493/890
that I’d been trying to lick off for the past half hour.
"I realize why you're doing what you’re doing," she began, and then paused until I met her hazel eyes. "It's a sort of self-punish-ment. You almost feel guilty that you got away with everything, so now you're punish-ing yourself. It's bullshit."
Her words struck a chord. "What are you talking about?"
"You feel bad because you broke the rules and didn't get caught. And then when you did, nothing really happened. Life continued on. Well, you know what? Maybe that was a dumb rule in the first place. Would you be pushing Liam away if you were allowed to be dating him this entire time?"
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I chose to assume that was a rhetorical question.
"I'm going to the movies with the girls, but tomorrow, you and I are going to that get together at Penn’s house. I already told him I would go, and you owe it to me to come with me."
I’d completely forgotten about those plans. It’d be Becca’s first time seeing Penn since they met and I knew she was excited about it.
"I don't kno—"
She held up her hand to stop me. "I cleaned a toilet with a toothbrush for you.
You're coming."
She had a point.
"You're my best friend, Becca. Thanks for everything,” I called just before she left.
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"You're welcome, but you're still coming to Penn’s," she laughed, and then closed my door behind her.
…
Saturday morning I had plans to meet with Coach Davis for breakfast. There were still a few pieces of the puzzle that hadn't been cleared up and she'd requested to meet with me so we could clear the air. Even though I didn't think she was kicking me off the team, I still felt nervous about being reprimanded by someone I looked up to as much as her.
"Morning, Coach Davis," I said as I took a seat across from her. She looked up from her coffee and smiled. It was strange seeing her outside of practice. She looked so nice in her scarf and jeans. Like a real person and 496/890
not just a soccer coach. If we were meeting under different circumstances, I would have complimented her outfit.
"G’morning, Kinsley, how're you doing?"
she asked.
"I'm fine. I feel good after the last few days of practice. I think the team's really coming along."
She nodded at my response, but the edges of her eyes crinkled as if she were trying to see something I wasn't showing her.
Her hand gestured to the seat across from her and I quickly shuffled to sit down and get comfortable.
When I was finally settled, I looked up and took a deep breath.
"I asked you here today for two reasons.
The first was that I wanted to apologize to 497/890