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“Ignore her.” It takes effort to drag my gaze away and focus on stretching out my quads. I’ve got enough to worry about without adding Annica to the mess. Rumors are still swirling through campus.
Coach blows his whistle, and we get to work. For the next two hours, we run through drills and then scrimmage. Even though Annica and I are on the same team, she continuously knocks into me, trying to steal the ball before I have a chance to get off a good kick. The last one I send toward the net is easily caught by Sasha.
Goddamn it!
My placement would be better if I hadn’t been trying to fight off the redhead.
“You need to work together, ladies!” Coach bellows from the sidelines. “Teamwork makes the dream work!”
It might be a cheesy cliché, but it’s true. We won’t get anywhere if we’re battling each other instead of the other team. I place my hands on my hips to catch my breath. Annica shoots me a nasty look as she stalks past.
We scrimmage for another twenty minutes before Coach blows his whistle. “That’s enough for today. Hit the showers.”
A few of the younger girls gather around Annica as we walk to the locker room. I’ve had enough of her antics. Instead of being one team, there are factions.
We have Team Annica and Team Demi.
This behavior is so immature. If Annica and I can’t come together and find a way to coexist, I’m not sure we’ll make it to the playoffs, let alone championship. As much as I hate the idea of a confrontation, there’s no longer a way around it.
“I’ll meet you in the locker room,” I tell Sydney. When she raises her brows, I add, “There’s something I need to take care of.”
“It’s about damn time. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I can be the muscle.” She makes a show of cracking her knuckles. “Your intimidation factor.”
I snort at the image she makes. Sydney can definitely be daunting. As much as I appreciate the offer, I shake my head. “No. It would be better if Annica and I had a private convo.”
“All right,” she mutters, as if unsure that’s a wise choice.
Before Sydney is able to talk me out of my decision, I seek the other girl out on the field and raise my voice. “Annica?”
My auburn-haired teammate turns and glares. The icy look is full of hatred. A shiver of unease scuttles down my spine. For the umpteenth time, I can’t help but wonder what I did to have all this loathing aimed in my direction. I’ve never been anything but nice to her and all the girls. I dealt with enough clicky behavior in high school and never wanted it to be like that on this team.
I jerk my head toward the empty field. “Let’s talk.” It’s not a question. We’re too far beyond that.
Annica purses her lips as if she wants to give me the finger and tell me to get bent. One glance at our coaches has her stomping over to me.
When she’s five feet away, she grinds to a halt and folds her arms across her chest. “What do you want?”
All right then. If I were under the delusion that she might actually apologize for sucking my boyfriend off last weekend, that notion is thrown right out the window. There’s not a trace of regret or embarrassment in her expression. If anything, it’s like I’m the one who has done something wrong. I really don’t know what to make of this girl. I’ve never dealt with anyone like her before.
“Well,” I clear my throat, momentarily thrown off by the sparks of anger flying from her eyes, “I wanted to talk to you about what happened on the field.”
She shifts her weight as boredom settles over her expression. “Okay. What happened?”
Seriously?
Is it really too much to expect that we act like the grown-ass adults we’re supposed to be?
I draw in a steady inhalation and fight for patience. I’m not someone who easily loses my temper, but Annica pushes every single one of my buttons. In a perfect world, I would simply avoid the girl, but that’s not possible when we play for the same team. She won’t be the reason I quit soccer. Once the season is over, we can part ways. Until then, we have to peacefully coexist.
Maybe Annica likes to play games, but that’s not how I operate. I refuse to be dragged into any more of them. The only way to handle this is to cut right to the chase. “You’ve made it more than obvious that you don’t like me.” Before she can cut me off, I continue. “And that’s fine. We don’t have to be best friends or even like each other, but we do need to play together. I think we both want the same thing, and that’s to win as many games as possible this season and take home a championship.” I pause, allowing the sentiment to sink in. “Is it possible for us to put aside our differences and work together as a team from here on out?”
