Page 5 of Racing Heat (The Forbidden Heat #2)

Chapter Five

~CASSIE~

My fingers are itching to play with the hem of my shorts.

I’m on edge. I really miss my home-game ritual.

I arrive at the stadium after Mac—of course, because that’s her game day ritual.

She likes to get there before the whole team and even some of the staff.

She says it helps center her and get her in the right mindset for the game.

When I arrive, we walk the field together, just her and me, getting our heads in the game.

I picture the types of runs I may have to do.

I imagine myself taking the corner kicks.

I can feel the energy of the fans, the excitement of game day. It calms me.

After we walk, we had to the center of the field and stretch.

We work through the stretches in an extensive routine.

We still stretch with the team; however, this one is just for us.

Mac and I will pass the ball back and forth like we’re getting ready for a youth game.

I didn’t know Mac then, so I didn’t get to do that with her. I love that we do it now.

But today is an away game, so none of those little traditions can be followed. We have to arrive at the stadium with the team. The home team is already there, so there is no quiet pre-game walk. The stretches are done together, as a team. Forget passing with Mac; that doesn’t happen at away games.

That’s why I’m so anxious.

I’ve been this way for every game. Mac has a bit of the jitters too, but I don’t think it’s quite as bad as me. Or maybe she’s just better at hiding it than I am.

The team is now in the visiting locker room getting ready.

Everyone is getting into uniforms and warm-up shirts.

I’m already ready. I’m not sure if it’s my nervous energy, but I got ready much faster than everyone else.

So, I’m in the hallway, pacing. I’m trying to calm all my nerves and get my game face on.

I stare at the floor as I walk back and forth.

A dark shape is standing in front of me when I turn to make another lap.

I look up to find Jase. I instantly feel some of the tension that’s been settling between my shoulders release.

I’m not sure why his presence is calming, because he’s not exactly the happiest of men.

Jase is usually scowling, and his arms are always folded across his chest, or his hands are jammed into his pockets, with his eyes studying the ground.

“Hey,” he says in way of greeting. “You don’t look so good. Everything okay?”

I sigh loudly and shake my head, hoping to clear my mind. But it doesn’t work.

“Come on, out with it,” he says. “Tell me what’s got you all up in your head. This is a big game, and we need clear minds.” He repeats the same message Coach Watts gave to us earlier in the week, only his was a bit more positive than Jase’s.

“I’m just missing my home-field game day ritual. It calms me. And right now, I can’t get a clear head.”

“Well, you’ve got to learn to deal with away games and not being at your home field with all of your rituals.” He puts air quotes around the word rituals.

“When I saw you standing there, I thought you were going to be helpful or something.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“Because you used to have to deal with this kind of thing,” I exclaim a little too loudly.

It makes everyone who’s in the tunnel look our way.

It’s mostly staff of the Angel FC and a team member or two.

It’s not exactly bright in the tunnel, so I can’t make out their faces.

I just know that none of them are my friends, or they would have come over to talk to me.

“How is Mac handling the away-game jitters? You two seem to do that ritual together.”

It surprises me that he noticed. I open and close my mouth several times, but the words aren’t coming.

“Are you having a stroke or impersonating a fish?” he says.

I laugh out loud and smack his arm. “Stop it and say something helpful.”

“I made you laugh,” he tells me. “I think that counts as helping.”

“Not really,” I say with a shrug. “I’m thinking about it again.”

“This isn’t your first away game. How did you deal before?”

“The truth?” I ask him.

“Obviously,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “If I’m going to help you, you can’t lie to me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I let out a long breath, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Out with it. What do you normally do?”

“I normally pace back and forth like I’m doing now. And if I could have managed to get any food down, I’d be puking it up,” I admit with a shrug.

“You can’t do that. You need to eat so that you have energy to run all over that field.” He reaches over and taps my nose.

“But you’d never know that I did.”

“No, you wouldn’t. But you still can’t do that. There has to be a better way to deal with the nerves than that.”

“What did you do?” I ask him again, hoping he’ll give me some advice or tell me how he used to cope.

He sighs. “You think I’m going to have some magical answer and that it’s going to make it all better for you, but it doesn’t work like that.”

I shake my head. “What good are you, Ford?”

He chuckles. “Not much, apparently.”

I squat down and put my head in my hands, trying to quiet the thoughts and doubt.

They’ve been creeping in since I’ve been on this bigger, more public stage.

There are more eyes on me than there were in high school and even college.

This just feels so much bigger and scarier.

It’s funny to me, as a high school soccer player, I enjoyed the away games.

They always meant that we rode on the bus with the team, singing as loud as we could to whatever song was popular at the moment.

After the game, we were either bubbly because of a win or down in the dumps because it was a loss.

We’d eat packed lunches that parents would prepare when the game was far away. It was a real bonding experience.

So much goes into away-game preparation when you’re on a NWSL team.

It’s not just the game. There’s almost always a flight involved.

A charter bus taking us to and from the facilities.

And we’re not just traveling on game days; most times, we arrive early and get a bit of practice in.

I swear, the longer we’re here, the more anxious I get. Shorter trips mean less anxiety.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up and a pair of brown eyes are boring right into mine.

“Hey,” he says in a low voice. “I can help you.”

“I thought you said…” The rest of the sentence dies on my lips.

“I want you to close your eyes,” he tells me.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“Because I want you to try something.” He sighs. “What’s wrong? Don’t you trust me?” His eyes sparkle, looking like giant chocolate orbs that hold answers to all my fears.

“Yeah, I trust you,” I whisper.

“Good.” His hand moves to my back, and he begins to rub it.

I lean into his touch, forgetting where we are and that someone could easily see us. I can feel his breath on my neck.

“Take three deep breaths,” he tells me.

“What?” I open my eyes and realize just how close he is. I almost fall backward, but he catches me.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” He chuckles. He pulls me to my feet and backs me up to the wall. “I think you would do better if you were leaning up against something.”

“Ha-ha,” I reply with a roll of my eyes.

“Oh, I wasn’t kidding. I could totally see you falling over and busting an ankle or something. Taken out by kneeling before the whistle even blows.”

He’s grinning at me and it’s making me warm all over. It’s also calming my nerves.

“I might not need your three deep breaths crap,” I tell him. “Being made fun of by you is enough to calm my nerves.”

“So, every away game I’ll just have to come over and insult you. I can absolutely do that.” He winks at me, and I swear my knees feel just a bit weak.

Mac chooses that exact moment to come out of the locker room, followed by several of our teammates.

“Come on, Cas, we gotta hit the pitch.” She reaches for my hand to lead me out on the field.

“You can’t call it a pitch,” Jase says, shaking his head. “You’re not from England.”

“We’ll call it whatever we want.” I turn and stick my tongue out at him.

“Go get ’em, ladies!” he calls after our retreating forms.

I want to turn around and sneak one more glance at him, but I don’t.

The San Francisco air isn’t humid like in Tampa, which makes it easier for me to make my runs up and down the field. We’re playing well. No one is on the board, but I keep telling myself it’s better than trailing by even one.

Jase yells out directions for Hendrix every once in a while. He’s helping make sure she’s in the right position, and she’s on fire tonight. She’s had a lot of big shots. Mac is solid at the top, firing the ball right along with Kelsey, a winger. One of those has to go in.

The ball is sent at Hendrix again. It’s a high one. I hold my breath hoping it doesn’t go in, and she makes an unbelievable save.

“Let’s go!” Jase yells.

The crowd goes nuts; the bench is going off. It’s just the pickup we needed.

Hendrix rolls it out to Amelia instead of punting it.

She’s able to carry it for a few feet before one of the Angel FC offensive players is on her.

She’s the one who’s been firing shots all game.

But Amelia expertly shoots it up to me, and I go running up the side with it.

I look to see if Mac is open, but she’s covered. So is the rest of the offense.

“Fire it in there!” Jase yells.

He never yells commands to me, but I do as he says, and the ball finds the back of the net!

It actually goes in, and I start jumping up and down. Mac comes over and throws her arms around me. This was my first NWSL goal. Sure, I scored in college, but this one just feels bigger and so much more meaningful.

I’m hugged by so many of the girls, while others just pat me on the back. We make our way back up into formation on our side of the field.

“Way to go, Simmons,” Coach Watts calls from the sideline.

“Way to shoot,” Jase says, joining in on congratulating me.

I wave and whoop in his direction. He looks a bit shocked but recovers quickly.

I’m not sure if anyone else notices it, but I don’t care.

I’m on cloud nine right now. I scored a goal, and I pulled my team ahead.

I wonder for a second if it has something to do with the pre-game pep talk Jase gave me.

I wonder if he’ll do that for me every away game.

I try not to think about it too much, because the Angel FC offense is coming hard for us.

The goal that we scored has lit a fire under them and we can’t afford to let up.

There’s too much time left on that clock.

I wish it were only five minutes and not ten.

I’m not sure we can hold them for that long.

We can’t.

They end up getting one in, and the game ends in a tie. One to one. It sucks. It’s a regular season game, and it doesn’t have to end with a winner, which I tell myself is fine. Logically, I know that it is. But the illogical side says that it’s stupid.

The teams walk through the line saying “Good game” to one another. Jase finds me afterward.

He places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “That was a hell of a rocket.”

“Thanks,” I reply. My cheeks heat a bit. His words mean more to me than they should. “This is still something to celebrate, so when we all go out today, don’t be all up in your head, okay?”

I grin widely at him. “Okay.”

He winks at me. “Okay.”

I head back into the locker room to hear Coach’s speech and to collect our things. My step is a lot lighter than when I walked out onto the field. I can’t decide if it’s because of my goal or because he winked at me.