Page 12 of Unrivaled Love
"I know it's a waste to get pedicures but I love them." Peyton says.
She’s acting friendly. It’s a little weird. I'm not sure I have friends on the team. I mean, I have teammates and we do things together when the whole team gets together but if I had a clogged toilet I wouldn't call them. I'd call my sister to tell me to call a plumber.
"How many have you taken?" She asks as she stands up and taps her heels into her shoes, checking their fit.
I glance at the dozen or so balls in the net, it is my third round of kicking and retrieving them. "Forty or so."
"And have they all gone in?"
"Of course they have." What is she getting at?
"Wanna play for it?" She asks with a nod towards the net.
"What?"
"The sponsorship."
"Like, first to miss loses?" I ask with a few extra blinks. I can’t decide if she’s being arrogant or generous.
"No, I was thinking we play a little PIG." She leans down and rolls the ball between her fingers before setting it, stepping back, and sailing a ball right into the crossbar.
"You missed."
"No, I was trying to hit it. It's a lot harder than getting one to go into the target you’ve been aiming for." She crosses her arms at me and cocks a hip. My vision shades red.
This arrogant little dweeb.
Competitive might be my only personality trait.
But when it lands you on winning teams year after year I refuse to see it as a character flaw.
"Fine." I spin the ball, place it, and back up. Four steps, like always. But before I hop and move to start my shot, I pause. This is asinine. Am I really playing PIG for a sponsorship? I’m about to back out but when I catch the smug look on Pee Pee’s face my blood boils. Nope. No way can I stand back and let this booger-eater win. With the fury of a wild stallion I charge and kick. The ball just brushes the bottom of the bar and bounces away. Never have I felt happier to miss the goal. It almost hurt to raise my toe a half inch to make it happen. It went against all my mechanics.
"Round two." She says surprised and she moves to the right. This is her side. She can also play left forward but that has been my position for most of the twenty plus years I’ve been playing and I'm fucking good at it. But, if I come out early in a game we’re winning big, Coach McEmbry sometimes shifts Pee Pee over to left and puts Nat in at right.
The spot she picks is a little further out and she kicks it into the far post.
My heart rate increases because this is actually a tough shot. There's a lot of distance to cover. I've trained and trained to spin it into the net, not the post, so as I take my time placing the ball my mind is racing as it searches for the little adjustments that could make the difference.
I turn my knee slightly as I connect but it isn't enough. The ball hits the net with a swoosh.
"P for you." Pee Pee says with a smirk that grates my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. As she walks over to the left for the next shot, I hear my phone buzz in my bag.
"Hold on, let me see who this is." I tell her as I pull it out and check the screen. "It's Dick."
Peyton nods as she walks over to where she wants to shoot from next.
"Hey Dick, uh, Peyton is here too." I say into the phone.
"Oh good! Did she already tell you?" Dick says and I look up at Peyton who is suddenly very focused on the ball.
"Tell me what?" I ask as an icicle forms on my spine.
"EPIC is going with Peyton for the sponsorship." Dick says and I grip the phone so tight in my hand the side button clicks with a resounding boom and the call disconnects.
"Is it true?" I grind out as my back teeth fuse together.
Pee Pee looks up and has the wherewithal to actually look contrite. My breathing stutters in my chest and I push the air in and out through a clenched jaw.
