Page 3 of Unrivaled Love (D.C. Renegades #2)

Jo

Kay, HO

My heart is racing as I get to the locker room after the match.

All the emotions of my first game on the US Team, my first goal in international play, pulse through my veins.

And my family was here to see it all. I slump down on the bench seat and hold my head in my hands.

I don’t know if I want to laugh, cry, sleep, or do all three at once.

Wins with the Salt Lake City Futbol Club feel good. Definitely. But this rush of emotions reminds me I’m playing for my country now. Something bigger than fandom. That I’ll be on a global stage this time next year.

I’m so fucking ready for it.

Coach Taylor knew we had the stronger offense and if we could keep position we'd win.

And that is exactly what happened. I haven't looked at the game stats yet but it felt like we held the ball 70% of the time. I had a few runs at the net. I’ll probably lose sleep over the corner in the 35th minute.

I hooked it in and the goalie got her fingertips on it at the last second. That tiny touch was enough to push the ball up and over the crossbar.

My breath had been trapped in my lungs as I watched it unfold in slow motion. Then as the air forced itself out of my lungs the world returned to warp speed.

US Team practice time is limited right now.

Almost all the girls play in the PSL, Professional Soccer League, so we’re busy with our club teams. Even with the lack of training time, we had plenty of solid passes, and we're gelling.

It helps that Coach Taylor gets us together for virtual team bonding every other week.

We did a hot sauce tasting last month that taught us a lot about each other's gastrointestinal personalities.

Which you eventually learn as a teammate when you're in the locker room or on the team bus together week in and week out.

My Salt Lake City FC team bonded over a stop at Calvin's when we played in Milwaukee and had to try their famous butter burgers.

Let's just say we were all off fast food for a few weeks.

But whose system processes trans fats fastest is not what I should be thinking about right now.

My mind needs to be on post game recovery, reviewing the game, and coming up with my training tasks for the week ahead.

The rest of the team mills around the room as cool down processes continue. Massages, cupping, and ART sessions are happening in the training room. Shower karaoke is in full effect and I hear a few girls belting out their best rendition of We Found Love .

I glance over at Coach Taylor’s office and watch his eyebrows dance while he talks. The US team group chat had a whole thread about those infamous eyebrows and whether he could use them to signal plays to us during the game. I gave a thumbs up reaction to a few of the funnier scenarios.

With one final inhale and exhale my heart rate feels normal. And I am ready to take off my cleats and begin my postgame ritual.

Left shoe first, then right.

Left sock and left shinguard first, then right.

Shirt, then shorts, and I grab a towel as I head to the showers where I strip off my sports bra and underwear.

In the shower, I wash my hair and body and when I turn to rinse the second my eyes close thoughts I shouldn’t be having, crash in .

Call me a glutton for punishment but my brain is stuck on Bryson Svoboda.

He was here today. I heard his name called while we were in the locker room at halftime. I missed a few moments of Assistant Coach Vee's instructions to the defense because just hearing his name puts my brain in a choke hold.

I've been avoiding my childhood best friend turned first love for seven and almost a half years now. Call it self preservation. Call it evasion. But no one ever said I wasn’t determined to get what I want.

And what I want is to surround myself with people who believe in and support me, unconditionally.

Avoiding him has taken considerable effort and careful planning because our families are impossibly close.

One, our parents still live in our childhood homes only separated by the park between the backyards.

When I'm home I can see his bedroom window from mine and I wonder if it still has the hockey themed strip of wall paper around the top or if his mom has redecorated.

I doubt she got rid of the trophy shelf.

He probably has a mini Stanley Cup up there now too.

Pause for a dramatic eye roll.

Two, our families share a vacation home in Telluride and spend summer vacations and winter breaks there together.

Three, our siblings all still live in Grand Junction which isn't exactly a small town but when you're a professional athlete people are always clamoring to know you or claim a connection so it shrinks with every ad I book or championship he wins.

I work my jaw from side to side to release some tension as I think about his latest victory. The frustration at Bryson receiving the glory before me settles into my already tense shoulders .

Our families are here today and I haven't asked yet but I'm sure there are plans for a happy hour or meal together.

I sit down at my locker and get some quality towel time in as I text my sister, Alexandra. Al for short.

What are the plans for later today?

Drinks at the rental house and then dinner at Lapis. Todd has been dying to go.

Kay, what time.

Drinks around 6 probably. The kids are still on mountain time so we can push things a little later.

Everyone's going?

Do you want me to ask if “he who we do not name” will be there?

Leave it to a sister to read through my curiosity. But there is no world in which I am ready to be in a room with Bryson Svoboda.

Do you mind?

Kay, HO.

The abbreviation for Hold On makes me chuckle. We're probably the only people on the planet who use it but it became an inside joke when I was first in college and my older sister would check in on me.

While I wait for her to respond, I turn towards my locker and run through my skincare routine.

All the sweat that builds up during games and practices is brutal on my pores so I make sure to double cleanse in the shower and follow it up with a cocktail of toners, serums, oils, and moisturizers.

I keep a travel set of my essential products in my backpack so I’m never without it.

This is the one area where I truly splurge.

I’ll buy skincare in a heartbeat and in times of boredom find myself adding potions to carts across the internet.

With my skincare completed, I slip into my white tank bodysuit and struggle to get it buttoned between my legs. Seriously, I’m a professional athlete with above average strength and flexibility and it is not easy. No one was meant to button their own baby onesie.

Once the snaps are done, I step into my mini skirt. I slide my feet into my Mary Jane wedges and give my air drying hair a shake before pulling the top half back in a claw clip.

I finish getting my stuff together and head down the tunnel towards the team bus. All of us are staying at the same hotel which makes it feel like an away game. And, considering most of us are from other parts of the country it kind of is.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my back pocket expecting an update from my sister.

Instead it’s a group text with my agent Dick Donaldson, and Salt Lake City FC rookie Peyton Pendleton.

She got added to the US Team roster a few weeks ago and I tried my best not to grumble about it.

I just feel like you need to earn your spot on this team and while, sure, she’s good, she’s not battle tested like I am.

I am not the mushy, emotional teammate. I believe if we all show up and put in the work we’ll win. So when Peyton walked into SLCFC training camp earlier this year like the sun shone out of her ass, I immediately disliked her.

Also, in my head I call her Pee Pee.