Page 61 of Relationship Goals

Makes me think what else he could find so easily.

I fan my face, despite the fact the sun’s been replaced with stadium lighting and the air’s turned slightly chilly.

When Luke breaks away, moving down the field like a huge wolfish predator, I jump to my feet, the rest of my now warm beer sloshing over the side of the cup.

“Go, Luke, go!” He’s going to score, I just know it. There’s no hesitation in him at all, that intense focus that I’ve become familiar with now set at the opposing team’s goal.

The fans at the end zone are cheering like crazy already, like the ball sinking into the net is a foregone conclusion.

Sure enough, Luke feints left and shoots right, and the goalie or keeper or whatever they call it in soccer goes the wrong way. The ball glides past him, hanging in the air for an interminable length of time before slamming into the net.

I scream again, jumping up and down in my thigh-high boots, Michelle on her feet, clapping and laughing next to me.

“L-A WOLF, L-A WOLF, L-A, L-A, L-A WOLF!” The crowd chants as one, before breaking into a cacophony of howls. The noise from the drum line behind the Aces’ goal is so loud I can feel it in my bones.

Down on the field, Luke jogs backward, scanning the crowd.

The moment he spots us is obvious. For one, he smiles so broadly that even the cameraman zooms in on it, his joyous expression displayed on the monitors all around the stadium.

Secondly, he points up at where I am, and though I can’t hear him, it’s clear what two words he’s saying.

For you.

My nose scrunches up, my cheeks hurting from how hard I’m smiling.

“That was good,” Michelle says when we can both hear again, still on our feet. She gives me a strange look. “That was like the old Luke Wolfe.”

I don’t know what that means, exactly, but it doesn’t sound like a bad thing.

As for me, I feel like I’m shining from the inside, Luke’s name emblazoned and glittering on my back.

It’s good to be the one watching instead of being watched, for once.

Chapter Fifteen

Luke

I sit fora long while in the locker room, after everyone’s gone to the players’ lounge to celebrate our win, listening to the voicemail from my mom over and over again.

“I just wanted you to know I’m so proud of you, honey. I don’t think you hear that enough—Oh, stop it, Fred. No. Don’t—” Her voice gets farther away from the speaker at whatever it is my stepdad is doing to make her laugh. “That was a great goal. What a foot! I wish we could have been in the stands today like we used to. I never get tired of watching you play. We miss you so much. Okay, bye-bye, Luke.”

Gone numb from being curled around the phone for so long, my hand hardly registers the vibration of a text coming in.

I should be back in Seattle with my family. I should be there for my mom.

A lump forms in my throat, guilt flaying me, laying all my faults bare where anyone could see them.

A text comes through, and I finally make myself look down at the screen.

Abigail:Hey, I’m waiting for you

Abigail:You were amazing.

Abigail:I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on soccer my whole life

Abigail:Ugh, sorry to send so many texts at once like a chaotic texting chipmunk—I’m in the players’ lounge if you want to meet up here. If not, just let me know what you had in mind.

Abigail:If you still want to get together, of course

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