I scan the bleachers. There in the front row, the UCLA logo on his polo shirt catches my attention.
“Mind my business? Are you serious?” Ainsley’s long strides match mine. “You could get seriously hurt today, worse than you already are.”
Coach blows the whistle as the team huddles around him at the bench.
I shoot Ainsley a warning glare. “I’ve got this.”
I have to.
The first quarter of the game, I’m fast as lightning.
Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.
I manage to cut and dodge the defenders, burying each shot I take into the back of the goal. The crowd erupts louder each time the net snaps behind the goalie. We’re up 5-0 and making it look easy.
In the second quarter, everything falls apart.
I get blindsided by an illegal hit, and a stick drives straight into my ribs. I crash onto the turf with the other player on top of me.
White-hot pain explodes through me, and my vision goes fuzzy.
Ainsley rushes over and helps me up as I push off the ground. “Fuck, are you okay?”
You’re fine.
It’s fine.
Walk it off.
I can’t look her in the eyes. “I’m good.”
And I keep playing.
During the next play, Ainsley dives in front of me and snatches the pass aimed for me. She takes off running like she’s shot out of a cannon, and slams the ball into the back of the net.
“What the hell was that?” I yell, half-running, half-limping over to her.
“If you don’t give a shit about yourself, then at least care about your team. You playing injured isn’t good for the team.”
My chin jerks back like she slapped me. “We’re up six-nothing. And you know the reason I’m playing right now.”
The ref blows the whistle and we take our places at the line, glaring at one another when we should be focusing our anger on the opposing team.
Ainsley and I fight for possession of the ball.
“Pass it, I’m open!” she yells.
“Mine!” I call to my teammates.
But Ainsley is fast as hell, and she manages to scoop up a ground ball on the run, taking it to the other team’s goal. The defenders are all over her, and the goalie is ready, anticipating her next move.
“Pass it,” I demand. But I’m barely in the spot I need to be, unable to keep up with the pace.
She spins around one defender and dodges the other, slipping between them both. Her footwork is insane, and the crowd is on their feet as they scream.
Ainsley sinks the ball into the net.
Fuck.
