Page 3

Two

The locker room is full of chatter today. Do they think I can’t hear them talking about me? Do they think I don’t know that every shot I took today was more than a foot off goal? Believe me, I am very aware.

I’m waiting for someone to start chanting, to pull out the pitchforks, to call for my captain’s band.

My sister would slap me for being dramatic—and maybe that’s exactly what I need.

But then I hear it again. “I thought once Simone dumped him?—”

Dumped? Sure, our parting was initiated by Simone, but it was mutual.

“Do you have something to say to me, Reed?” The defender, who I’d normally call a friend, just shrugs. I have other friends. I don’t need Reed. I breathe through my nose, and I swear, like a worked-up dragon, smoke exhales through my nostrils.

“Whoa-kay,” Zev says. My friend swoops an arm around my shoulders and ushers me in the opposite direction as the muttering Reed Westbrook. Zev is the tallest guy on this team—he could frighten the best of men. And yet, he is a gentle giant.

“Whoa-kay?” I say. “Is that a word, professor? Or are you making things up now?”

“You’re a bit high-strung today, Superman.”

“I’m not high-strung.”

“He is.” Lucca walks past the row of lockers we stand in front of, tightening the towel about his waist, water dripping from his hair.

“I don’t like people talking about my relationship, that’s all,” I say to Zev. I ignore Lucca, who I am certain believes the world revolves around him.

“You mean past relationship,” Zev says.

I narrow my gaze, processing his words. “Yeah. Of course that’s what I mean.” Simone ended things a month ago.

“But that’s not what you said.” Zev dips his head, studying me.

I groan—more for show. Groaning doesn’t express how I feel.

I’m not exactly sure how to express what I feel.

In a lot of ways, I felt relief when Simone ended things.

Lonely relief. But it was good. I needed to focus on my game anyway.

My play has been off since I started up with Simone six months ago.

I was so sure, like a rubber band, it would bounce back after she left.

It did not.

“You need to talk to someone,” Zev says.

“He needs to go out, get a drink, and win some spicy chica’s number,” Lucca says, walking by yet again, only this time from the opposite direction. At least now he has a shirt on. How is he keeping up with this conversation?

“I don’t need to go out. I need to train. I need to study?— ”

“That’s all you do,” Zev says. “But Cal”—my friend lowers his voice—“you’ve been off for a few months now.”

Again, this isn’t news to me. I know. I am very aware that my slump is paired with the day Simone came into my life. It started small and slow, but like a landslide, it quickly picked up speed.

“We all thought you might go back to normal with Simone gone.”

So did I, but that doesn’t mean I like the guys talking about it. “Gee, thanks.” I shake my head as if this thought never occurred to me. “I’m getting there. I just need to?—”

“Stop,” Zev grumbles. “Don’t say train. You train harder than anyone. Whatever this is, Cal, it has nothing to do with how hard you train.”

I do train hard. And yet, I’ve never had my game so out of sync. What is wrong with me?

Zev places his Hulk-like hand on my shoulder. “You just need something else in your life.”

“Like a new girl,” Lucca says, this time in pants, his towel draped over his shoulder. Are his clothes strewn all over this locker room? It doesn’t matter which way he turns, he comes back with more. “Preferably, one that isn’t toxic to the team.”

I glare at Lucca, but my Brazilian friend only grins back at me. He’s wrong though, another woman in my life won’t fix this.

Still, I can’t deny that I changed when Simone entered the picture.

My personal, private, and professional life all suffered.

Since the woman left, I’ve mostly gone back to normal.

I’ve had regular communication with my family again.

I’ve realized how wrong Simone and I were for one another.

In fact, I’m not even sure I’m someone who needs a love life.

It’s been good. Enlightening. But my game.

Unfortunately, that little casualty didn’t bounce back to normal simply because she left.

“Maybe you need to talk to a friend. You haven’t really.”

“About Simone? I haven’t with you—but that doesn’t mean I haven’t with anyone.” But Zev is my teammate and best friend. If I haven’t talked to him, I most likely haven’t talked. Except for the few feelings my mother can get out of me.

The thing is, I’m not broken up about it. So, what’s there to talk about?

“Callum, you’re all soccer all the time.”

I push his hand off me. “As it should be. We all are.”

“No. We love the game. We’re obsessed with it. But you’re… consumed. That can’t be healthy.”

Ouch. That stings. That’s what Simone said, too— consumed with the game . Right before she told me that we were done. It really should have hurt more than it did. But in the end, Simone ending things helped me. And yet—I’m still not quite myself.

“I’m not consumed,” I lie.

“You are,” Lucca says from behind me, fully dressed now, down to his shoes. He swipes a comb through his wet black hair. “Do you know how many dates I’ve been on this week?”

I stare at him. I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll tell me. The better question is, when in the world does he have time to date? Maybe he does everything as quickly as he dresses.

I’m either training on the field or at home going over footage to see where things went wrong. Or if it hasn’t been a complete trash of a day, what few things might have gone right .

“Three,” he says, his brows lifting. “Three different women.”

“You’re disgusting,” I say, meaning it.

“What? I like them all. They know we aren’t exclusive.

I’m not taking anyone home with me, Superman.

So, don’t get all truth and justice on me.

We’re all having fun. Why do you think I scored twice today in scrimmage?

” The small crowd forming around us snickers.

“Because, unlike you, I’m relaxed.” His arms jiggle at his sides, and I am so tempted to punch one of those arms. And not the friendly kind of punch, but a hit that would leave a mark.

“He’s not serious?” I say, looking at Zev.

“He is.” Zev’s face softens. “And I kind of agree. Not the three girls in one week. But, Cal, you need something else in your life. Something other than soccer. It’ll enhance your game.”

Up until a month ago, Simone was my other .

My only other. My very close, very tight-knit family wasn’t something she approved of.

I went from texting with my family daily to adding my two cents to our group chat once a week.

She didn’t like me seeing my teammates off the field.

So, I stopped going out with the guys. She didn’t love my profession.

And my game fell into the trash compactor.

My only other was her.

My family and friends fell back into place when she left—so did my sanity.

Everything except for my game, which ironically means I’m still not going out with the guys or going home for visits. But at least the guys know I’m sorry. At least my family knows I’m me again. They love me. They’ve forgiven me.

But the game won’t. It will not forgive and let me be me again .

So, I train.

Zev slaps a hand on my back. “But more than enhancing your game with a change of pace, you need something that’ll better your life.”

Something other than the game.

Something that’ll better my life?

Well, that’s the difference. Simone may have been my other, but I can’t say she ever bettered my life.