Page 21

CHAPTER 21

ROUX

T ouch in the box,” Coach Harper calls.

There are already four cones set out with the two furthest on the penalty line and the next two five feet toward the goal. The team randomly splits into two at either side of the field. I linger with my teammates as one of the guys gets into the box to take his turn.

It’s difficult to concentrate on soccer when Alka is right there . I swear I can feel him watching me. I shift my weight on my feet, desperately trying not to look over my shoulder, but my skin prickles as if there’s a ghost breathing down my neck. I can feel their ethereal breath on my neck.

“Nice, Rutland,” Coach Harper says. “Kipler. You’re up.”

Well, fuck me. I take a breath, trying to block out the world around me and ignore the fact that Alka is so close. There’s a lot to talk about, like how the hell this even happened.

The point of ‘touch in the box’ is to know your surroundings and be able to shoot a goal with as little looking at the goal as possible so you can keep the majority of your focus on the ball. It begins with your back toward the goal and kicking the ball up into the air .

New team. New coaches. Alka here. I take a breath and imagine all those things washing away as I let it out.

I kick the ball into the air. It rises maybe eight feet before coming back down. I catch it with the side of my dominant foot as I turn sideways, giving maybe a tenth of my concentration to recognizing where the net is in my peripheral vision before kicking it into the corner. It goes in, and I release another breath. Thank fuck.

“Excellent,” Coach Harper says. “Doherty.”

Another guy takes my place, offering me his fist. I hit it on my way by with my own and rejoin my team around the goal.

“I swear, this campus has the hottest coaches,” the guy beside me says.

I look at Harper. I mean, yeah, she’s cute, I guess. Looking at the guy next to me, I realize he’s watching Alka, not Harper. My lips twitch.

“So hot,” he says, shaking his head.

A guy beside him snorts. “Head in the game, fucker.”

He looks at me, shrugging his shoulders. “Greer Ikaika,” he says.

“Roux Kipler,” I reply.

“You think the coach is hot?” Greer asks.

I glance at Alka. “Yep. Definitely.”

He gives me a smug smile.

“Ikaika. You’re up,” Coach Harper says.

Greer winks at me and jogs the short distance into the box.

We continue this until everyone has three turns. I’m relieved that I make all three shots. Considering I haven’t practiced since leaving Longwood, it’s a weight off my shoulders that I didn’t lose all my skills over the summer.

“Pair up. No look passing.”

I scowl internally. I’m best at looking where my target is and meeting it. This is definitely one of my weak points. At least I can recognize it.

“Partner?” Greer asks me .

I nod.

The team breaks into pairs and spreads out around the field and perimeter. We spend the next twenty minutes blindly passing the ball. You just need to know where your target is at all times. It’s not so much about the goal as it is being aware of where your teammates are. Being able to make the pass without looking at your opponents helps keep them confused and unable to predict your moves.

It’s easy to keep my attention off Greer when looking away means I’m facing the direction of where Alka’s sitting while we’re moving this way along the pitch. He’s watching me. Has he even looked away? My heart pounds in my chest.

“Nice,” Greer says, and I look his way. “That was expert level no looking.”

I give him a smile and grunt a noise as if I did it on purpose.

We spend a while doing a few other drills until there’s twenty minutes left of practice. Then we’re split into three groups of ten with a goalie in each net. Ready for a little scrimmage against each other.

I’m not surprised that I’m one of the guys on the field. I’m new to the team. I’d be nervous under any circumstances in this situation, but my boyfriend is sitting on the bench watching me… as my coach. I’ve never wanted to prove myself so badly in my entire life.

Soccer is a lot of endless running around. Unlike football where you have an offensive line and a defensive line and one sits out while the other plays, we’re all together in two forty-five-minute halves. We don’t get constant breaks to catch our breath. If we do, they’re short, so my heart rate rarely has time to calm the fuck down.

This is one of those sports where cardio matters. I should have been running on the beach this summer.

Fortunately, there’s only twenty minutes left of practice so, at most, I’ll be running around for twenty minutes. It’s not awful. Unlike so many people, I don’t hate running. I’m not going to say it’s my favorite thing to do, but I don’t hate it.

We’ve been split up into colored shirts. I’m in a dark blue shirt so my teammates are in black, blue, and purple. Our opponents are in every other color, which is primarily light gray and white.

The whistle blows and we’re moving. The ball comes to me almost immediately, and I kick it away. I’m going to pretend it was intentional, but I even used the skills we were just working on and didn’t look in the direction I kicked.

Thankfully, it made it to my intended target, another guy on my team. I run up and down the field, barely touching the ball until we’re right in front of the net. I nearly collide with another guy. Our feet come together, and the ball goes up in the air.

The other guy hits it off his head. It goes wild and comes back to me a minute later. I kick it up behind me as I dart around the player blocking my path and kick it when it comes back down. It hits the goal in the upper right corner.

“You’re really good,” one of the guys says, slapping my back. I think his name is Jeff Doherty. That’s what Coach Harper called him, right?

I give him a smile. “Eh,” I answer, wobbling my hand back and forth.

He laughs.

I don’t make another goal, but Jeff comments on my skills a couple more times. While I’m not sure I earned that praise, I’ll take it. I’m slow to move toward the bench where everyone is gathered to grab their water.

With my head bowed, I focus on my heart racing and my breathing. I don’t feel excessively out of breath, so I’m thankful for that, at least. However, I’m very aware that I’m heading toward Alka. He’s already on his feet and talking to Coach Harper, though I think he’s still looking in my direction.

I move as slowly as I possibly can without making it look like I’m intentionally stalling for time. I ran hard. Played hard. My panting isn’t faked, so when I grab my water and slowly—so fucking slowly—make my way back to the locker room, it’s probably at least semi-believable.

It’s full of excited chatter, lockers opening and slamming. I hear the water from the showers in the distance and guys talking. It’s normal.

And Alka’s not in here, so I don’t feel so… aware.

“You take the summer off, Kip?” Jeff asks.

“Yes,” I admit, glancing up at him. Oh good, this is going to work in my favor. “I need a minute.”

He laughs as I lean against my locker and continue to slowly sip my water. The locker room is already thinning out as guys head to the showers.

“Dude, it was weird the way you and Coach were looking at each other,” the man across from me says. His locker name reads R. Gupta. “What happened there?”

I shrug. I’ve been trying to find a plausible explanation for that, especially since Alka sat on the bench for the entire practice and watched me. I both loved it and found it unnerving because I knew everyone else saw it too.

“Dunno.”

“It’s like he saw a ghost and you were put on the spot,” he says, shaking his head. He shuts his locker while flinging a towel over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Deer in headlights,” I agree as I turn my back on them and open my locker. I don’t want to lie, but I’m obviously not going to tell them the truth either. Besides, it’s not like we planned this. I can’t help but think if we said just one more thing about where he works or soccer or something , we’d have at least had a heads up and not seconds to prepare for this moment.

But I’m not throwing him under the bus and claiming it’s all him watching me and making it weird. If they’d been looking at me before he said my name, they’d have seen that I was already preparing for the moment when Alka saw me.

My water is empty, so I can’t use that as a means to slow down anymore. I concentrate on undressing and shoving my sweaty clothes in the top of the locker before shutting it. I grab a towel on my way to the shower and settle in for a long one to give everyone else time to get out.

It’s maybe twenty minutes or so later by the time I turn the hot water off. I dry in the shower, just to prolong the moment a little more before finally heading back to my locker. There are still stragglers finishing getting dressed, but they’re just about done. I don’t have to move so slowly now. As I pick up my phone, I realize I didn’t text Lix, so I do that now. It’s going to be a minute anyway. I’m going to see Alka.

Where do I even find the coach’s office? What am I going to say?

Just as I finish stuffing the rest of my dirty clothes into my bag, I hear footsteps. I shut my locker door, pocket my phone, and zip my bag as Alka stops at the end of the row of lockers.

My breath catches as I look at him. He looks around before stepping toward me, nodding. There’s no chill. I practically leap into his arms, our mouths crashing together.

Warmth seeps through me like I’ve been outside in the snow for far too long and my body is learning how to reabsorb heat again. His arms grip me tightly. I want to climb him and wrap around him like a koala.

“I’m sorry,” I say when our mouths break. “I tried to warn you over the phone, but I didn’t know if it was actually an emergency. Maybe I should have just blurted it.”

Alka smiles, pressing kisses along my neck. He hasn’t let me go, and I cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping me from falling off the face of a cliff.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“Come over. I’ll text you my address. We can talk about this.”

I nod but then shake my head. “Lix is still here. We’re going to dinner.”

“That’s okay. How about you call me after? Okay? ”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Alka shakes his head. “I’m not. We clearly missed the mark on some communication points, but I’m still not sorry you’re here.”

I close my eyes and press my face into his. Taking a deep breath, I inhale the scent of him. I might have to quit soccer. If given the option, I’d choose Alka and Oscar every time. Soccer isn’t my future anyway. It’s something to pass the time and keep me busy.

Reluctantly, we break apart. Alka takes a step back so he’s in the aisle again and looks both ways. Then his eyes meet mine. “Have fun with your brother.”

I nod. “Just so you know, the team thinks you’re really weird right now. You’re going to have to do some damage control.”

He laughs. “Oh, I know. I’m actively avoiding Harper, so I don’t have to deal with that conversation right now either. First, you, me, and Oz need to talk. Then I’ll talk to Harper.”

“Okay.” I sling my bag onto my shoulder and walk toward him. “I’ll see you soon.”

His smile overtakes his face and leaves me breathless. “Soon,” he promises, his fingers brushing my cheek. “So fucking soon, Ruby.”