Page 79
Story: Resilient Love
She’s been sluggish tonight, but judging by her ashen skin and sunken eyes, I’d say she’s probably coming down with something. I’d pull her entirely, but it’s her senior year, her last game, and frankly, we’re still winning, so it hasn’t made too much of an impact.
For someone who loves to be in control, rightfully so, Elise is a great captain. She trusts her own instincts and her teammates even more so.
Watching her play, silently nudging her teammates where she wants them to be while compensating when someone looks like they’re struggling—it’s fucking incredible. She thinks so damn fast on her feet, and when she sees Adhira having an even harder time than she has been the rest of the game, she gives the Mayhem the runaround, taunting their defensive midfielder, giving Adhira a moment to catch her breath.
And the moment I see that little wink she shoots Adhira, my fucking gut is squeezing tight, and my blood hums with adrenaline.
Elise feigns directions, shooting out the opposite side, just barely making it past the Mayhem’s defence as she hauls her tight little ass down the pitch.
I’m not sure that she even realises she does it, but one thing that sets Elise apart from any other player I’ve ever known is her ability to justact.
There’s no contemplation when she’s playing. She moves on instinct alone, her body carrying her to where she needs to be. On the rare occasion that she misses a shot, she just moves thehell on with no dwelling involved. She doesn’t think before she makes a play; she just does it, and it’s goddamnbeautiful.
My heart clenches in my chest watching as she makes her way to the goalkeeper, and just as I expect, she makes her move without anyone, including me, knowing what she’s going to do or what part of the net that ball will be sailing into.
And fuck me, it makes all the blood rush tobothof my heads the moment she sends it soaring through the air, the Mayhem’s defence grappling for her just as it slips right past their goalie’s fingers.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
FRIDAY, MAY 30
My knees bucklebeneath me under the weight of the Mayhem’s fullback, but my smile is still fully intact when I hit the moist ground with a painful thud.
My gaze swings over to the stands, searching for the Olympic team’s recruiter. I find her the moment the ball makes it into the net.
I don’t see it happen, but Iknowit does because my teammates are screaming, Rafael the loudest of them all, and then there’s the fact that Lorelle Laurent herself is standing, her eyes locked on the goaltender, and in that sweet, beautiful moment of victory, her clenched jaw unhinges as she whoops loudly, bending in half with a relieved expression.
I don’t think recruiters are supposed to be this biased, but how could you not be? I’m about to be the best footballer of my fucking generation, and not only do I know it, but nowshe does too.
The rest of the game is much the same. I’m pushing myself further than I’d ever have thought possible, scoring goal after goal, making the last game of my university career the best it can be. Between Rafael cheering me on, Lorelle being in attendance, and the sheer adrenaline coursing through me, I’m on fucking fire tonight.
We’re in the final seconds of the game, our score nearly double that of the Mayhem’s, but it isn’t enough for me. I have one more in me.
I know I do, so I drag my aching, tired muscles across the pitch, whipping past the defensive line as my heart pounds in my chest, threatening to explode behind my ribcage with the force of my movements. The Mayhem’s players grab for me in a failed attempt to slow me down, but not today.TodayI have my eyes on the prize, and absolutely no one is going to stop me.
I rush toward the goalie, and without a second thought, my foot connects with the ball for the last time before it sails through the air. The movement was so strong, and thanks to a midafternoon rain shower, the wet pitch landed me on my ass, but this time I get to watch from the ground as the ball makes it into the bottom left-hand corner of the net.
My cheeks burn from the smile causing my facial muscles to cramp as I flop on my back, staring up at the overcast sky, the sun peeking out from a grey cloud. My heart rate starts to slow down as my chest heaves from exertion.
Everything happening around me seems to slow to a crawl; the sounds of my teammates’ cheers become muffled as this sweet, blissful moment washes over me.
It isn’t until Rafael and my dad are dropping to their knees beside me, their faces lit up as Rafael physically shakes me, pulling me up into his arms, that I snap out of the quiet moment.
“You were stellar, Elise. Fucking stunning,” he says, clearing his throat when he realises my dad is beside us, “performance. A stunning performance on the pitch for your final uni game,” he finishes, releasing me abruptly. I have to bite my lip to contain the laughter bubbling up inside me.
“Thanks, Coach,” I manage to choke out, turning toward my dad, whose brow is quirked, but his lips are still stretched in a wide smile. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he clutches me tightly.
“I’ve never been more proud, Elise,” he says. “You were unstoppable out there.” His next words come out as a whisper, spoken into my messy hair so only I can hear them. “Yourmamanand Rachelle would be so incredibly proud,” he says, his voice cracking.
My throat feels tight as my eyes burn with unshed tears. “I think so too,” I croak.
The moment passes quickly as my teammates rush over to pull me up, still shrieking over the rush of our final win together.
Just as I’m headed to the locker room, I hear an unfamiliar voice call my name, stopping me in my tracks.
“Elise! Elise, I’d love to have a quick chat with you,” she says, and as I turn, my eyes land on Lorelle Laurent. She waits until I jog up the pitch, stopping a couple feet in front of her and extending my hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Elise. I’m Lorelle Laurent from the Embershire women’s football Olympic team.”
I shake her hand firmly, the goofy grin overtaking my face refusing to be toned down. “It’s great to meet you too, Ms. Laurent. Thanks for coming out today.”
For someone who loves to be in control, rightfully so, Elise is a great captain. She trusts her own instincts and her teammates even more so.
Watching her play, silently nudging her teammates where she wants them to be while compensating when someone looks like they’re struggling—it’s fucking incredible. She thinks so damn fast on her feet, and when she sees Adhira having an even harder time than she has been the rest of the game, she gives the Mayhem the runaround, taunting their defensive midfielder, giving Adhira a moment to catch her breath.
And the moment I see that little wink she shoots Adhira, my fucking gut is squeezing tight, and my blood hums with adrenaline.
Elise feigns directions, shooting out the opposite side, just barely making it past the Mayhem’s defence as she hauls her tight little ass down the pitch.
I’m not sure that she even realises she does it, but one thing that sets Elise apart from any other player I’ve ever known is her ability to justact.
There’s no contemplation when she’s playing. She moves on instinct alone, her body carrying her to where she needs to be. On the rare occasion that she misses a shot, she just moves thehell on with no dwelling involved. She doesn’t think before she makes a play; she just does it, and it’s goddamnbeautiful.
My heart clenches in my chest watching as she makes her way to the goalkeeper, and just as I expect, she makes her move without anyone, including me, knowing what she’s going to do or what part of the net that ball will be sailing into.
And fuck me, it makes all the blood rush tobothof my heads the moment she sends it soaring through the air, the Mayhem’s defence grappling for her just as it slips right past their goalie’s fingers.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
FRIDAY, MAY 30
My knees bucklebeneath me under the weight of the Mayhem’s fullback, but my smile is still fully intact when I hit the moist ground with a painful thud.
My gaze swings over to the stands, searching for the Olympic team’s recruiter. I find her the moment the ball makes it into the net.
I don’t see it happen, but Iknowit does because my teammates are screaming, Rafael the loudest of them all, and then there’s the fact that Lorelle Laurent herself is standing, her eyes locked on the goaltender, and in that sweet, beautiful moment of victory, her clenched jaw unhinges as she whoops loudly, bending in half with a relieved expression.
I don’t think recruiters are supposed to be this biased, but how could you not be? I’m about to be the best footballer of my fucking generation, and not only do I know it, but nowshe does too.
The rest of the game is much the same. I’m pushing myself further than I’d ever have thought possible, scoring goal after goal, making the last game of my university career the best it can be. Between Rafael cheering me on, Lorelle being in attendance, and the sheer adrenaline coursing through me, I’m on fucking fire tonight.
We’re in the final seconds of the game, our score nearly double that of the Mayhem’s, but it isn’t enough for me. I have one more in me.
I know I do, so I drag my aching, tired muscles across the pitch, whipping past the defensive line as my heart pounds in my chest, threatening to explode behind my ribcage with the force of my movements. The Mayhem’s players grab for me in a failed attempt to slow me down, but not today.TodayI have my eyes on the prize, and absolutely no one is going to stop me.
I rush toward the goalie, and without a second thought, my foot connects with the ball for the last time before it sails through the air. The movement was so strong, and thanks to a midafternoon rain shower, the wet pitch landed me on my ass, but this time I get to watch from the ground as the ball makes it into the bottom left-hand corner of the net.
My cheeks burn from the smile causing my facial muscles to cramp as I flop on my back, staring up at the overcast sky, the sun peeking out from a grey cloud. My heart rate starts to slow down as my chest heaves from exertion.
Everything happening around me seems to slow to a crawl; the sounds of my teammates’ cheers become muffled as this sweet, blissful moment washes over me.
It isn’t until Rafael and my dad are dropping to their knees beside me, their faces lit up as Rafael physically shakes me, pulling me up into his arms, that I snap out of the quiet moment.
“You were stellar, Elise. Fucking stunning,” he says, clearing his throat when he realises my dad is beside us, “performance. A stunning performance on the pitch for your final uni game,” he finishes, releasing me abruptly. I have to bite my lip to contain the laughter bubbling up inside me.
“Thanks, Coach,” I manage to choke out, turning toward my dad, whose brow is quirked, but his lips are still stretched in a wide smile. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and he clutches me tightly.
“I’ve never been more proud, Elise,” he says. “You were unstoppable out there.” His next words come out as a whisper, spoken into my messy hair so only I can hear them. “Yourmamanand Rachelle would be so incredibly proud,” he says, his voice cracking.
My throat feels tight as my eyes burn with unshed tears. “I think so too,” I croak.
The moment passes quickly as my teammates rush over to pull me up, still shrieking over the rush of our final win together.
Just as I’m headed to the locker room, I hear an unfamiliar voice call my name, stopping me in my tracks.
“Elise! Elise, I’d love to have a quick chat with you,” she says, and as I turn, my eyes land on Lorelle Laurent. She waits until I jog up the pitch, stopping a couple feet in front of her and extending my hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Elise. I’m Lorelle Laurent from the Embershire women’s football Olympic team.”
I shake her hand firmly, the goofy grin overtaking my face refusing to be toned down. “It’s great to meet you too, Ms. Laurent. Thanks for coming out today.”
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