Page 37 of Kulti


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Isuddenly felta little bad that I’d been holding back from telling the truth, just a little bit. Until I remembered the very real threat that the German had given me after I’d helped him out, and then indignation and anger washed over everything. “All right.” I took a deep breath. “I think everyone is just a little unsure of his presence here, G.I think. I can only speak for myself. No one says anything because we’re all probably too scared to put our feet in our mouths and get in trouble. And it doesn’t help that he isn’t exactly Mr. Rogers.”

Asmile crackedacross the coach’s face.

“I’m serious. I think at some point everyone has had that nightmare coach that calls you a worthless piece of shit who should have quit playing soccer years ago. But somehow, it’s worse to be with someone at this stage that doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t do anything. He’s just there.” There was the incident at the photo shoot. And he’d threatened me when all I’d done was try to help him, but I kept that crap to myself. Not because of what he’d said, but just because I wasn’t that type of person.

It was a fact. Kulti didn’t doanything. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t share his knowledge or his anger except that one time, or even his vocabulary.

“Jesus.” Gardner nodded and ran a hand over his head. “I get it.”

Had I said too much? Maybe.

Puffingmy cheeks like a blowfish I started yammering. “Look, he’s a great player. I’m not saying he’s not, obviously. But shouldn’t he be coaching us? Bitching? Telling us when we’re doing something good or at least doing something spectacularly bad? Something? I figured maybe he was just getting used to being around girls, but it’s been long enough now. Don’t you think?”

“Iunderstandwhat you’re saying. It makes sense.” He rubbed a hand over his head and glanced up at the ceiling. “I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before. Huh.” He nodded at himself before looking over at me. “At least now I know where I need to start.”

Fidgetingin the chair for a moment, I sat up and nodded at him. “That’s about it.”

Gardner madea few faces as he thought about what I said but finally gave me a curt nod. “I appreciate you talking to me. I’ll make sure we get this sorted out,” he said finally, my cue to get the hell out of there.

“All right, then. I should get going. See you tomorrow,” I said, grabbing my belongings and getting up.

He gave me a funny look. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you too. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you look like you’re ready to bite someone’s head off. ”

So apparently Ineeded to work on keeping my game face on a little better. I could do that. I smiled and nodded at the man sitting across the table. “I’m fine, G. Thanks, though.”

His features easeda bit and an emotion I wasn’t sure I recognized crossed his face as I took a step back. “I’m proud of you Sal, for standing up to him. Especially now that I know how you all are feeling about his presence here… I want you to know that. You’re a good girl.”

Gardner’s wordsmade me feel nice at the same time they made me feel guilty. I gave him a little smile and shrugged. “I should have said something to you earlier about the girls, G.”

“It’s fine. You said something now and that’s all that matters.”

Was it?

We said byeto each other one more time and then I was out of there.

Bag over my shoulder, I slowly made my way out, thinking. Had I done the right thing? I wasn’t positive, but what else was I supposed to do? I could painfully go through another five months of tiptoeing around this German dingle-berry, but it was different if I wasn’t the only one being affected by his presence.

The trekback was old and familiar. Down two hallways and head to the elevator. I knew it by memory. I rocked back and forth on my heels as I waited for the elevator.

It wasthe soft squeak of a foreign pair of tennis shoes on the linoleum floor that had me glancing over. The sound wasn’t anything special in this building; mostly everyone wore tennis shoes unless it was game day or if it was a woman wearing heels. But when I saw a pair of special edition RK running shoes, black with lime-green stitching, my shoulders tensed up.

And I looked.

Of courseit was the ass-gobbler I’d just been talking about.

Subconsciously, I started to reach back and make sure my hair was tucked up neatly beneath my headband, but I stopped before I got there. Poop. Plus, what did it matter if my hair was messed up? It shouldn’t.

Iclearedmy throat when he stopped a yard or so away from me and our eyes met. His eye color was clearer that I’d thought it would be. It was a perfect mix of a honey-brown with a fitting blend of murky green. Bright, sharp and incredibly, unbelievably observant from the weight of the stare it was capable of.

Holy bejesus he was tall. His forearms were big beneath the sky blue training polo he had on. Then I glanced back up at his eyes to see them still locked on me. He was watching me check him out.

Fuck.

Poop, Sal.Poop.

Pee. Stop it.Stopitrightnow.

You draggedhim out of a bar and into a hotel room without a single thank you in return. Not even a smile. All you got out of it was a threat.

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