The players scurried off, ponytails swishing.
“Hey, man.” Brady held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I took in the very tall twentysomething man in front of me. His smile was affable, and he looked athletic, like he knew his way around a soccer field.
“You too,” I replied, accepting his firm grip for a shake. “Thanks for helping me out.” Then I broke one of my own rules with the locals and said, “You can drink free at Magnolia whenever you want.”
He chuckled in response, or maybe he was always happy and amused. “I’ll take you up on that.”
“I’ll pitch in,” I offered, indicating the girls hopping around in the middle of the field. “Just tell me what to do.”
For the next forty minutes, I mostly chased down balls while Brady instructed the girls through various drills. He maintained a good balance of silly and serious, which kept their attention and earned their undying devotion. At one point, Gia faked an injury so he’d have to carry her to the sideline. I’d caught her sneaky grin over his shoulder and stopped him from frantically calling an ambulance.
Callie and Michelle provided commentary and support from their seated positions. They’d pulled the same heart condition routine on Brady, and I felt less like an idiot for falling for it when he, too, told them to play at their own pace. The twins had abruptly taken a seat right there on the field.
The little practice crashers from last week, Jacob and Charlie, were back on the far side of the field, and I noticed them looking on with a fair amount of interest.
Brady and I stood on the sidelines while the girls scrimmaged to close out the practice.
Near the end, Jamie was guilty of a handball when she’d reacted reflexively to the ball coming straight at her face.
“Sorry! That was my fault. I’ll do better next time!” she shouted to the rest of her team.
Jacob, who had drifted closer to watch, laughed and said, “Another excellent option for the title of your autobiography.”
Jamie scowled in Jacob’s direction while Charlie high-fived him.
“Let’s go!” Rosie called impatiently and took the indirect kick. Play resumed, and the boys went back to their side of the field.
I leaned toward Brady and murmured, “Do we need to worry about that? Isn’t it bullying or something?”
Eyes on the field, my co-coach shook his head. “Nah. Jacob has a crush on Jamie. That’s why he’s teasing her. Take it from me, torture generally means he doesn’t have an outlet for the way he’s feeling about her. Wait and see, he’ll end up showing his hand.” A thoughtful pause. “Or Jamie will sit on his back and rub his face in an anthill. We’ll keep an eye on them, just in case. But I’m guessing it’ll work out. Hopefully it won’t take a decade.”
Sounded like there was a story there, but it wasn’t any of my business. Thankfully, parents started rolling up to the curb a moment later. Brady had the girls gather the cones and put the balls away before Rosie led another team huddle and Brookline U9 cheer.
“Our game is at ten on Saturday at Tanner Park. Be there fifteen minutes early,” I reminded them before they could all disperse. “I’ll have your jerseys with me.”
Their squeals of excitement could probably be heard from space.
“You working tonight?” Brady asked after everyone had gone and we were walking toward the parking lot.
“Yeah, till closing.”
“I’ll come by for a drink,” he said before slapping me on the back and hopping in a dark pickup truck.
“Uh, okay,” I muttered belatedly as I watched Brady back out of the space.
Then I made my way to my own vehicle, wondering what had just happened. I mean, I knew I’d promised Brady free drinks at Magnolia. But I didn’t realize he was going to take me up on it right away.
Was this how adults made friends? An extrovert just sort of elbowed their way into your life and didn’t leave?
Apparently so because twenty minutes later, after I’d quickly changed for my shift, there sat Brady Judd at the polished bar top.
I rolled the sleeves of my white dress shirt up to my elbows before stepping behind the counter.
Brady was in the middle of laughing with Kayla about something, a glass of whipped pineapple gose already in his hand.
“There he is,” Brady called jovially.
