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“You’re the most opinionated person I know.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll show up to the wedding, okay? Doesn’t make a difference to me if there’s cupcakes or donuts at the reception.”
“They already decided on a three-tier cake,” Hallie informs me.
I exhale a laugh. “Of course they did.”
“Have you booked your ticket?”
“It’s still three months away, Hallie.”
“Plane tickets only get more expensive.”
“That’s a myth,” I counter. “They drop them closer to the date, then raise them again.”
“Is it about the money?” Hallie asks. “Because you know Dad will pay…”
“It’s not about the money. I’ll book one tonight, okay?”
Damnit. Now I’ll actually have to do that later.
“Okay.” There’s a pause. “Well, get back to the art. Love you, sis.”
Hallie hangs up before I have a chance to say it back. She’s not expecting me to.
Probably because I never do. I’d blame my parents, but Hallie turned out normal.
So I think it’s just me.
CHAPTER FOUR
Natalie arrives in Kluvberg on Saturday with five other girls in tow. They all survey me with a hero worship I should probably be flattered by but mostly find to be annoying.
Except for one.
“Scott!” London Reynolds squeals as I walk into the café we agreed to meet at, giving me a quick hug.
In an attempt to spend as little time at home as possible, I’ve spent the past decade attending every soccer program I possibly could. I don’t think London had the same motivation, but we’ve overlapped at more clinics and camps than I could count. Outside of my Lancaster teammates, she’s the one person I’ve played with on a regular basis in recent years.
“I didn’t know you were going to Amnerallons, Reynolds,” I reply, hugging her back.
It’s not on the same level as Scholenberg, but it’s still worth bragging about.
“And of course you’re at Scholenberg.” London pulls back so I can see her roll her eyes. “I should have known you’d be here.”
“I didn’t have anything better to do for the next two months,” I respond with a grin.
Natalie cuts in, introducing the rest of the girls she’s with. Unlike Scholenberg, Amnerallons doesn’t limit how many players it accepts from a country. They’re all American; mostly from schools on the West Coast that Lancaster rarely plays.
“Where are we going first?” someone asks excitedly once introductions are over. I already forgot her name, but I’m more concerned by how everyone’s suddenly looking at me.
“I barely know the city,” I admit. “I’ve been here less than a week. I’ve gone to the stadium, a museum, and a couple of restaurants, and that’s it.”
“You’ve been to Kluvberg’s stadium already?” Natalie asks eagerly. “How was it?”
“Yeah, we had a meeting there a couple days ago,” I divulge, opting not to share my trespassing earlier in the week. “It was cool.”
“I cannot believe you’ll be playing on the same field as Adler Beck has.”
