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“What did you think I was talking about?” he asked with interest.
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” I replied breezily. “Doesn’t matter at all.”
We spent the rest of the now innocuous meeting coordinating travel for the game, which was to be the first round of the league championships. I suspect David didn’t really care about my opinion — it sounded as though he already knew exactly what we ought to do in every respect — but perhaps he was just trying to include me. Which was nice of him, especially given that about half an hour ago, I’d thought he was going to fire me.
After the details were finalized, I thanked him for running over the schedule and accommodations with me, and left him with the parting words, “Don’t work too hard, it’s a Saturday.”
He grinned and said, “ULA never rests, kid.”
I exited his office, and promptly found the nearest wall to lean against. My pulse was still racing, and I lifted a hand to my chest to check that I wasn’t having a heart attack. It felt like I’d dodged a bullet, though apparently, I’d never been in any danger in the first place.
I pulled out my phone, and scrolled through my contacts. The school mandated that coaches keep the cell number of every player on their team in case of emergencies — hence why I was able to select Catya’s number out of the batch, and shoot off a text message. It read:
Hey, hope your morning’s going well. I had a wonderful time yesterday, and I can’t wait to see you today. Just wanted to say again that I think we should keep what happened between us, and try not to appear too familiar during practice. Obviously, I wish circumstances were different, but for now, let’s play the hand we were dealt.
Not my finest writing, but it’d have to do. I trusted her to keep quiet on the subject — she didn’t seem like much of a gossip — but after that near-miss with David, there was no harm in covering our bases. And I’d meant it, that part about being excited to see her.
I’d expected an immediate reply. I wasn’t sure why, maybe just because Catya seemed like the type of girl who answered things quickly, was always on top of stuff. Then again, it was possible she wasn’t big on technology. She did also strike me as old fashioned in certain ways. I tucked my phone back in my pocket, hoping she’d respond sooner rather than later. Though if she didn’t, I felt confident that she’d keep it cool at practice. Right?
I spent the rest of the day in my office — which was far less grand than David’s — working on plays for the game next weekend, studying old strategies of our first round opponents, making notes and doing some internet deep dives. It was time consuming, but one of my favorite parts of soccer was the strategizing. It made me feel like a general leading his troops into battle. Plus, it didn’t hurt that I was fairly confident we were gonna kick the asses of the other team, so this was a good time to try out new plays.
Before long, it was time for practice, and I still hadn’t heard back from Catya. Well, there was nothing left to do but cross my fingers and hope for the best.
I made my way to the soccer field a few minutes early, thinking that maybe Catya would show up soon and I’d get a chance to reiterate the gist of my text.
No such luck. She, along with the rest of the girls, arrived precisely on time. While they all went to set their bags down at the sidelines, Catya sidled up to where I sat on the bench, flipping through my notebook.
“I saw your text,” she said under her breath. “Sorry, didn’t see it ‘til just now. Long night. I’ll be very discreet. Super professional. The works.”
“Great, thank you,” I replied, relieved, though I hadn’t doubted that for a minute.
She continued, “But I’ll be thinking about your hard cock the whole time.”
With no further words, she spun on her heel and went back to the rest of the girls, and I was left attempting to stifle a boner. Why did that always happen when she was around? It made me feel like a prepubescent, so turned on I couldn’t even control my body.
For the rest of practice, we tried desperately to keep our eyes off one another, both so afraid that the slightest contact would alert the entire team to our liaison. It worked, of course. I didn’t think anyone would have noticed even if we were talking and laughing and touching each other’s arms, but it didn’t hurt to be paranoid.
At the end of the evening, I called the girls into a huddle.
