“To the charity game you don’t get paid for,” I noted, uploading the clip to my video software. I’d wait to edit it when I got back to my laptop, just to add captions and remove my prodding. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when pitching your social media plan.”
“Well, we’re focusing around … me, right? I like doing these games, playing with the kids. It’s fun.”
Ooo, another crack in the grumpy man’s shell.
“Understood. I’ll see if I can dig up any pictures from last year’s cup to make a post encouraging folks to buy tickets or donate to the program.” I tapped my fingers on the counter, racking my brain for ideas on how to push this event in under a week. I was going to post this clip of Kean on his stories, butmaybe I’ll post it to the main feed to get more views. Might be a good idea to get him to film something with the other guys this week, too.
“You can go ahead and go home, Kodi. I can see your mind racing.”
“Well, you’ve given me a new task, I won’t rest until I’ve got a game plan for it. If I can make this the highest-selling year, I can prove —” I stopped, realizing it probably wasn’t a great idea to talk about my plan to move on from being his PA as soon as possible. Though maybe hinting at it would make things better later on. “I’d wanna be the team’s social media manager. You know, in the long run.”
“Long run,” he repeated, licking his lips. “Right, that makes more sense for you than being my fucking PA.”
“It’s not that Idon’tlike working with you,” I tried to say, feeling the shift in his attitude. Guess that was too big of a hint. Now time to pray he doesn’t remember it in the morning. “Just something I’m working towards. I’m focused on you now.”
“Focused on me.” His brow furrowed, eyes going fuzzy as he looked down at the counter. “I guess that’s good enough.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head and pushed away from the island. “I know it’s not been hours, but you should go. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay.” I’d feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if he stayed up to watch a movie with me or something, but Dustin was a professional and I should listen to him.
Plus I was feeling a whole wide variety of awkwardness and I’d rather quit now than stumble on something else that would make Kean act weird. So I compromised.
“Sure, I’ll go. But if you don’t message me by nine a.m. tomorrow, I’m coming over for a wellness check!”
A New Leaf
Olli
Iwas a bastard. Sunday, I woke up in a sour mood to a text from Kodi counting down to her wellness visit. Between the whole jersey roller coaster to confessing I wanted to flirt with her to her damn near admitting she’d quit the second she could get that social media job, I just didn’t have it in me to be civil.
So instead I gave her a long list of shit to get done this week. Not enough that she wouldn’t get her thirty minute social media session before every practice or lose sleep, but enough that I would take up all her mental energy.
I was being a dick. I knew that. But I couldn’t stop myself. She was already planning on leaving me, I needed to dosomethingto make her … do something.
That was probably the most embarrassing part. I didn’t really know what I wanted. I had too many feelings for Kodi and they didn’t necessarily connect together.
I wanted to be friends again with the girl from my childhood. I wanted to fuck the woman who rolled her eyes at me so hard that they rolled for another reason. I wanted to hug the woman scared of losing her job and reassure her that would never fucking happen. I wanted to play soccer with the girl who was so affected by a player, she bought an extra jersey to grow into.
And I didn’t deserve any of that.
So after almost a week of cooling off and getting through our social media sessions with as little awkwardness as possible, I resolved to do … better. Stop knee-jerk reacting when things didn’t go my way because Kodi had no idea who I was.
That resolve lasted roughly twenty minutes after I arrived at the beach where the charity game was set up.
“Oh, hot damn,” Sosa said with a whistle.
“Don’t curse around the children, they’ll be here any minute,” Christenson chastised.
“Yeah, sure. But look.That’sgonna cause problems.” Sosa pointed over my shoulder, but I pointedly ignored him and focused on memorizing the roster of kids on my team. Teams were made up of a mix of professional players and kids, most of us playing our regular positions. The first year I did something similar to this, it was difficult to know when to go easy on the kids and when to give them a challenge so they could grow. I ended up adopting an ex-teammate’s play style: if they’re trying their hardest, cut ’em some slack, if they’re not, force them to try.
“Did he see Kodi yet?” Brooker asked as he jogged over to us. “I don’t wanna miss his conniption.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, finally looking up at him, fighting the urge to check over my shoulder. If I was going to be ‘better,’ I needed to stop rising to Brooker’s bait. Kodi saidshe doesn’t date players, so he wasn’tactuallya problem, just annoying.
“You’re being immature,” Christenson told Brooker, pinching his side. “She’s far from the only woman in a swimsuit and shorts here. It’s summer, we’re at the beach. Don’t be a pig.”
