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I smile internally, knowing it cost her to say those words.
I won’t make her pay for them.
“Nothing to gloat about. It was a close match.”
She gives me an unimpressed look as we get into the elevator, before replying, “You must have been watching a different game. She smoked me.”
“You made one bad play in terrible weather conditions after holding up against her the entire game. I’d hardly say that was a bad match up.”
She steps out of the elevator and stops in the hall, looking at me thoughtfully for a moment before adding, “Thanks for saying that.”
“No problem,” I reply, “Anyway, I’ll save the gloating for when you finally submit to me.”
She rolls her eyes. “You never stop do you?”
“No. I’ve got endless amounts of stamina. In every way.” I tell her suggestively.
That elicits a small laugh from her before she starts walking again. “How’d you even know about Hawley?” She asks me, “Do you know all the players’ stats in the region?”
“No.”
When I don’t keep going, she presses me. “How did you know hers then?”
“I looked the team up the day before the match.”
That stops her in her tracks again, this time right outside of Coach’s office. “Why?”
I shrug, unsure how to answer.
The truth is I hadn’t meant to do it. I’d been working on a paper for my History course and my mind had wandered to Thayer.
My fingers had moved of their own volition on the keyboard, entering the other school’s name into Google and hitting enter before I could second guess what I was doing.
I chalked it up to my love of anything football related and my support of the overall program.
Of course I’d want any RCA player to know what they were walking into.
That’s why I’d gone to her game and stood in the unrelenting rain until my skin was ice and my bones themselves were frozen.
To support the team.
“I wanted you to be prepared.”
Bewilderment flares in her eyes at my response but I don’t stay to watch how it evolves. I walk past her and open the door to the office Coach Matthews shares with Coach Faulkner.
Thayer follows after me as they turn towards us.
“Rhys. Thayer. Come in please.” Matthews says as he points to the chairs in front of the desk he’s standing behind. Faulkner is sitting in the chair next to him.
“Coach.” Thayer says, nodding at her.
“We’ll cut to the chase, guys.” Matthews starts, not one to mince words. “Congratulations, we’ve selected you as team captains this year.”
I’m impassive at the news. It was a foregone conclusion that I’d be captain again this year. I’d have been surprised if he’d told me anything different.
But I watch every positive emotion ever observed and recorded in the English dictionary flit across Thayer’s face as she takes in the news.
Everything from shock to disbelief to elation comes through in her smile, the blush in her cheeks, and the twinkle in her eyes.
