“Have you ever been to this school?” Tim asks, trying to stretch in the cramped seat.
“Naw, they contacted me aboot hosting a camp. Seems they are really trying tae encourage greater outreach by the varsity athletes. The fitbaw coach asked tae host a camp this year.”
“You know, over here, you have to call it soccer, right? The football coach leads a very different team.” I roll my eyes at him.
“Naw my fault if ye Yanks cannae get it right. Heaven forbid ye join the rest of the universe.” We’re interrupted when a nervous young boy stops at our seats to ask for an autograph. After visiting with him for a few minutes, the flight attendant leads him back to his seat when the fasten seat belt sign comes back on.
As our plane approaches the runway, I look out my window, wondering if Claire is somewhere down there. As tempting as going house to house looking for her might be, I figured out while looking around Houston that would take me a lifetime. I follow Tim off the plane, retrieving our bags then heading to the car rental counter.
“They are meeting us at someplace called Billy Bob’s,” I explain to him as we pull out. Tim always drives since he swears I still drive on the wrong side of the road at every chance. He really doesn’t even trust my navigation skills. We find a parking space within a short walk.
“Ye know,” I point out to Tim. “If ye put some hair on those long-horned cows, they’d look a little like Highlands.” Tim just grunts. Apparently cow breeds are lost on him.
“I’m surprised you have the cajones to show your face around here. You know, after the thrashing you gave us this year.” The captain of FC Dallas yells when we walk in.
“Whit are cajones?” I ask Tim as we walk toward the table.
“You really need to learn English. How long have you lived in this country? He’s talking about your balls, Alex.” I would take umbrage at the captain discussing my balls, but he’s a good-natured guy, so I’ll overlook it. I’m pretty sure that word isn’t English either. I’m a little hurt anyway, I thought I finally had a handle on American slang. We shake hands as a couple buckets of beer are set down.
“I cannae thank ye enough for coming tomorrow tae start oot the camp,” I say sincerely as we shake hands. After dinner, I lay out the plans for tomorrow before we call it a night.
Lying in bed later, I can’t stop my thoughts from returning to Claire. We turned in early tonight so we can get to the school for a quick workout before meeting with the volunteers.
“Alex, I can hear your gears grinding from over here,” Tim growls.
“Sorry. I’m trying tae settle down,” I answer him, flopping onto my back. I have to stop obsessing about her before I go mad. I’m never going to see her again and the sooner I come to grips with that fact, the better off I’ll be.
“You’ve been jumpy since we got to Texas. No luck hunting down the mysterious Claire?”
“You dunno whit I was thinking aboot.” I decide to go with the moody teenager bullshit defense. Tim sighs.
“You turned mid-sentence in Portland and walked off. You were gone a half hour before I had to break for lunch to come hunt for you. It’s hard to forget a woman who can do that,” he says, rolling onto his back in the other bed. I lay still for a minute, contemplating what he just said.
“Please tell me I was gaun longer than that before ye found me,” I say with a grimace.
“About forty-five minutes from the time you left until you came bursting out from behind that bookshelf.”
“Ah, fuck me! Naw wonder she took off.” I can’t possibly have had sex with someone having only known them for thirty minutes, could I? Thinking back about it again, she didn’t seem that experienced. I’ve never had to try to stop someone from screaming when I entered them before. “Oh, bugger,” I moan.
“Yep, you’ve officially crossed over to the category of manwhore. Slam bam, thank you ma’am.” Maybe it’s best that I can’t find her. She’s not going to want to be confronted by the man that said hello, fucked her against a bookcase, then ran off all in a thirty-minute window. “Look at the upside. You might qualify for a new world record.”
“Fuck off.” I wing my extra pillow at Tim. He just laughs, turning back to his side. I don’t even get my pillow back. I now know I’m not going to get any sleep knowing I was a complete and total ass to her. Who would want to stick around after that?
Walking through the lobby the next morning, we both laugh at the free breakfast offering. Few adult athletes can survive the morning on what’s served at a free breakfast. Hell, few high school athletes can survive on it. We burn through more calories in a day than most people do in a week. I always try to pick a hotel close enough to an all-night diner to eat breakfast at. It means we have to get up an hour earlier, but I can’t play on a bowl of cereal.
“So we have somewhere around seventy-five kids showing up at nine this morning. The volunteers should be there aboot eight with the FC Dallas guys coming right after lunch.” Even though we both have a detailed itinerary, I always like to review the plan before we start. It’s probably why I'm the captain of the Galaxy.
“Sounds good,” Tim agrees around bites of omelet. I look down at the bowl of porridge I’m obliterating. Why can’t this country figure out how to smoke at least one piece of fish for breakfast?
An hour later, we’re stretching on the TCU pitch. “I’m gaun to miss hauling yer giant body around for the next month,” I tell Tim in all sincerity.
“Just stay out of the college libraries and you should be fine,” Tim growls at me, laughing.
“Ye’re a real dick, yeah?” All sincerity has completely left me now.
“Come on ye tadger, let’s go,” he says, motioning toward the other end.
“Ahh, I’m starting to rub off on ye,” I say, grinning over at him. Grabbing my ball, we start laps down the pitch. I always work on footwork while I run, Tim only has to block balls, so he just runs.
