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Ash
The second I saw Rhys Peyton, I knew exactly why he was there. Well, my first thought was, “Oh my God, that’s Rhys Peyton.” But my second thought was that he was there for me.
My new babysitter.
Coach had told me he wanted me more focused, and I needed to stay for extra practice. It pissed me off, because it was time being taken away from my studies. At the same time, I knew I had been a mess, and if I wanted to honor my scholarship, I had to play better than I had been.
Especially since it was my senior year. The first three years flew by, and keeping my focus on soccer was easier because there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Now that light was all I saw, and I kept trying to skip past it, and reach out for what I really wanted.
To be independent. Stable. Safe.
Soccer wasn’t the end game for me. It never had been. But for a few more weeks, I knew Coach wanted me working on my game, and depended on me to focus. I had been mentally preparing myself for the extra work and for Coach to create something that left me no choice but to work on soccer.
But of all people, why Rhys-freaking-Peyton? He once set the internet on fire just from a picture of him biting his fingernail. The comments consisted of, “Lucky finger,” and “Look! No ring!” That was years ago, and from what I could tell, he only got sexier with age. I mean, I may, or may not, have kept a game program from a couple of months ago with him on the cover just because I was afraid it would set my trash can on fire.
Then there was that added fact that he was a soccer God. He had won a World Cup, and had been awarded the Golden Ball. Not to mention he was named the MLS player of the year the last two years in a row.
Geez Coach. Brought out the big guns.
Rhys ran his hands through his light brown hair while his dark eyes darted around the team. He seemed uncomfortable, out of place, and it made me wonder what kind of strings Coach had to pull to get the best player in the entire country to babysit me every night.
Be thankful he didn’t ask Hunter,I thought to myself. That man had issues, and calling him ‘Coach’ made me want to vomit. Rhys appeared to sense that in Hunter as well, because his eyes got even darker for a few moments while he eyed Hunter one more time.
Then like a switch, he refocused and turned toward the team, looking at everyone individually. He intimidated me when our eyes connected. He was much closer than he was when I was running my laps, and it was hard to remember that I was mad he was there. His stare held mine for a moment longer than it did everyone else’s, and a shiver ran through me.
Just like before.
It was all sinking in. Rhys Peyton was there to help me, and even though I didn’t even want to be there, I was semi-impressed with the fact that Coach brought in soccer royalty just for me.
“As you know, Rhys plays for the Inferno here in Miami. He's the best there is, sinceIretired of course,” Coach joked, getting a laugh from the team. “He’s a friend of mine, and has agreed to help out around here for a bit. With the Women’s College Cup coming up, we need everyone in peak playing condition.”
“Wow,” Rachel, the team Captain, said in awe. “TheRhys Peyton. It’s a pleasure.” She reached her hand out to shake his, her blond ponytail flopping on top of her head in a flirty way.
Rhys smirked again, something that looked natural on his face, making me think he did it a lot. As if words were sometimes unnecessary when he could just present that lopsided smile to someone.
“Nice to meet you…”
“Rachel. Team Captain. You can come to me foranythingyou need. I’m at your service.”
I cringed, third party embarrassed for how Rachel was cooing and acting. I sent a quick side-eye to my friend Erin, only to see her face covered by her hand. I wasn’t the only one that saw Rachel’s personality change from badass captain to perky fangirl. Erin couldn’t bear to watch the trainwreck any more than I could.
“Thanks,” Rhys replied with a tight smile, giving her hand a professional shake.
“Okay ladies, to the showers.” My eyes caught Coach’s and his brows raised. That one look told me I wasnothitting the showers, so I kicked a ball around while everyone else got their stuff and left.
“Ash?” Coach called me over. “Again, this is Rhys Peyton. I’ve filled him in, and he knows what you need to work on. Give him the same respect you do me.”
Coach’s voice was demanding, like he was putting on a show of power for Rhys. Not that Coach wasn’t respected, but his tone was more like he wantedRhysto know he was respected.
A straight smile and small nod was all I could manage in return. I definitely couldn’t roll my eyes the way I started to, or I’d be doing laps for days. He accepted my nod, though, and left the field, leaving me alone with Rhys.
Without a word, Rhys and I kicked a few balls around by ourselves, neither of us trying to speak to the other. But eventually, it got too awkward for me, and I stopped, resting my hands on my hips, waiting for his attention.
“What first, Coach Peyton?” I asked, when he finally looked my way.
Rhys shrugged and looked around, unsure what to do. For as formidable as he was walking in, he looked lost in that moment. The sun had just about disappeared and his sunglasses were now hanging on the collar of his shirt. His hands were on his hips, and he pursed his lips as he thought it over.
The stubble on his jaw, and the way his hair seemed to be messy, but perfect, made me zone out for a minute. I had been to an Inferno game, seen him on TV as well, but being ten feet away from him was something I could barely handle. If I was being honest, I could see why Rachel lost her cool when she spoke to him.
