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“Perfect. Now let’s teach you how to play soccer.” He stood up and pulled me with him.
“No way, that’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll break my foot. Or my leg.”
“You won’t.”
“I’ll get hit in the head.”
“The ball will stay on the ground, I promise. And if not, you have a small army ready to intercept it before it gives you a goose egg.”
I tried to toss more excuses at Seth, but he wasn’t having any of it. Once we were in range, Toby was more than happy to pass the ball along to us, effectively drawing us in to the chaos of soccer.
Chapter Sixteen
“I thought this was supposed to be fun? Seth said the ball would never leave the ground,” I gasped, walking back to the picnic table. Calvin, George, and Bryan were already there with plates of food.
“I’m sorry,” Paxon said for like the tenth time since he sent the ball flying at my face.
“You don’t look sorry. You almost removed my head from my body. You’re lucky I have a hard head.”
He laughed. “It wasn’t that dramatic. Go sit down and I’ll get a plate of food for you.”
“Where does he get all that energy?” I asked, sitting across from George.
George chuckled. “I ask that every day. Definitely didn’t get it from me. Maybe from my dad. That old man used to never know how to stop moving. Loved running around like a madman all the time.”
Awkwardness washed over me as I tried to figure out how to ask if Paxon’s grandfather was still around. His dad talked in past tense, but I wasn’t sure. Was it okay for me to ask?
“He’ll be proud when he sees Paxon on Thanksgiving,” George added. “He only gets to see his grandchildren a couple times a year.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“I’m from Ohio originally. Moved this way for school. Met their mother and stuck around. Dad won’t let us go there, says this is his excuse to get out of a boring state.”
“I like it there,” Cal chirped up, top of his lip covered in ketchup from his hotdog. “Papaw has a tire swing I get to play on. And his own soccer field.”
George chuckled. “Not a soccer field, just a really big one that he set up for the kids to play, and once he learned Paxon was into soccer, he bought a net for him.”
“Sounds fun,” I said.
“What does?” Paxon asked, putting a plate down in front of me. It had a burger, a little bit of salad, and a handful of chips. He settled in next to me, his plate looking similar.
“Ohio,” I replied, looking up at him as he sat next to me. “And how you take after your Papaw.”
Paxon’s eyes practically bugged out. “Dad! What are you telling her?”
George shrugged. “Who told you to be wild like your grandfather?”
Paxon groaned.
I laughed. “I think it’s cute.”
“I don’t want to be cute!” His face was red as he glared at me.
Laughter bubbled out of me, only making the situation worse. “I’m sorry,” I gasped, unable to stop myself. “But that’s too cute.” I looked down at my plate and raised an eyebrow. He managed to make my burger exactly as I liked it. Ketchup, cheese, no pickles. And I knew they had pickles because Paxon’s dish had a small pile on it.
