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I took a deep breath and looked around the field at the four teachers who had volunteered to help out with the soccer camp that Saturday morning. Four small goals had been set up about half an hour ago in preparation for the twenty kids who had pre-registered.
Dear God, he’d brought these men and he hadn’t said a word about it the last time we’d seen each other. Then again, neither of us had brought up him helping since we had originally talked about it two weeks ago. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything.
Yet here he was with friends. Not just any friends, butthem.
There was no way in hell I was being totally cool about this. No way Kulti couldn’t tell I was thrilled. From the way his mouth tightened when he stopped just a few feet away, ignoring the two teachers standing right by me, he knew everything.
I grabbed his forearm as soon as he was close enough and squeezed hard, hoping he could understand everything I was feeling, everything I wanted to say but couldn’t. At least nothing I was able to get out in that instant.
“Hello,” I managed to say in a voice that sounded just like my own and not like I was on the brink of shitting a small pony. “Thanks for coming.”
The German tipped his head down in acknowledgment.
Turning my attention to the other men, I thought to myself once more:poop, poop, poop. Fortunately, I got through it.
“Hi, Alejandro,” I said, almost shyly.
It took the Spaniard a moment of looking at me before it dawned on him that we knew each other. “Salomé?” he asked hesitantly. Honestly, I was surprised he remembered my name; I had no doubt he’d met a thousand people since we’d last seen each other, and it wasn’t like we’d been best friends. We both had a sponsorship with the same athletic clothing company. About two years ago, we’d had photo shoots scheduled at the same time.
“It’s nice to see you again,” I said, extending my hand out in a greeting.
What I didn’t see were the hazel-colored eyes going back and forth between myself and the Spanish man.
Alejandro quickly took it, allowing himself to smile broadly. “Como estas?”He fell into that quick, soft accented Spanish that was a little foreign to me.
“Muy bien y usted?”I asked.
Before he could respond, the other newcomer butted in. “Hablo español tambien,” he said in a rougher accent, more like the Central American Spanish I was accustomed to.
I smiled at him. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you,” I greeted Franz Koch, one of the star players in the European League a decade ago. In his mid-forties, he’d been the captain of the German National Team years ago.
If I remembered correctly, he’d been a freaking beast.
“Franz,” the man said, taking my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I cleared my throat to keep from croaking and managed to smile. “Oh, I know who you are. I’m a big fan. Thank you so much for coming.” I scratched at my cheek as I took a step away from them. “Thank you all for coming. I don’t know what to say.”
My German was fortunately on top of what needed to be done, because he jumped right in. “Let’s do what you planned, but we’ll split into two groups instead.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “That works. The kids should be showing up pretty soon.” A smile exploded over my face when the two unexpected visitors nodded in agreement. They were here for my camp. “Is that fine with you guys?”
They agreed immediately. Alejandro and Kulti went on one team—I didn’t miss how quickly my German claimed the Spaniard, and Franz and I were on the other.
It turned out to be the most fun I’d ever had at any youth camp, ever.
Franz, who didn’t have an ounce of an ego and understood that this was for fun, was a dream to work with. An excellent team player and leader, he passed the ball freely, teased the kids with his thick accent, even talking like Arnold for a little while. He really just took pleasure mentoring the kids. We laughed, grinned, high-fived each other and the kids throughout the game.
On the other side of the field, where we’d moved the goals over, I could hear Kulti and Alejandro arguing with each other in quick Spanish from time to time. The kids, mostly Hispanic, cracked up over whatever they said to each other.
Most importantly, the kids had been ecstatic.
Everyone knew Kulti and Alejandro. Franz had been the one with the least amount of claps when I’d introduced him, but he’d won over the boys and girls who had been frowning when they got stuck with us and not the two superstars.
It had been amazing. Was I over the moon? Absolutely. By the time the three hours were over, I felt like I’d won a million dollars. The kids left more stoked than ever, the parents were in awe from where they were relegated to standing on the side of the field, and even the coaches were all grinning.
I threw my hand up and Franz’s met mine in a wild shake once all the kids and the volunteer teachers had taken pictures with the four of us. “Thank you so much for coming. It really means the world to me.”
“You are very welcome. I had a great deal of fun,” he said with an honest smile.
