Page 23 of One Little Chance
ok, maybe not bright…or early. But definitely healthy!
Jordan
Good to hear. Had to check on ya, Sophie
thanks for being better than any valentine support group
One March morning, I woke up to the sound of children’s squeals and shouts, parents clapping, and the distinct thud of a soccer ball being kicked.Ah,I realized. Saturday soccer for the pre-K kiddos had begun across the street.
I hopped from my bed to my bedroom window to confirm, peeking through my mini blinds. Children were racing around in baggy tee shirts with glee, parents passing out juice boxes, and there was the finest soccer coach I’d ever seen standing in the midst of it all. I opened the blinds wider, taking in how well Jordan could pull off a baseball cap and sweatshirt when he looked straight toward me and cocked his head to the side curiously.
He couldn’t see me… Could he?I stepped back quickly, the blinds snapping shut.
I tiptoed out of my room to the kitchen even though no one could hear me. I tightened my robe as my coffee maker whirred to life.
My morning was quiet and calm as I ate my breakfast and tried to pretend Jordan wasn’t steps outside my window, even as my heart rocketed around inside my chest. I decided the best course of action was to proceed normally and don my usual running attire for my Saturday morning run. I did my pre-run stretch in my living room.
I walked out the front door and saw practice wrapping up in the park. Parents were picking up tired three-year-olds and packing up snack bags. I waited on my front porch, pretending to prepare a playlist or something on my phone, trying to muster up the courage to go over and say hi to Jordan after the mini blind moment.
Or maybe I could just pretend to casually run by him?
I glanced his way sneakily. He was crouching down talking to a group of kids. The group grinned to themselves and snickered.
I tucked my phone into my armband and started stretching my legs behind me. A little extra warm-up never hurt anyone.
“MISS SOPHIA! MISS SOPHIA!” I stopped what I was doing and jerked my head toward the park where little voices were shouting my name in unison.
“COACH JORDAN WANTS TO...” more excited whispering, then, “DRINK COFFEE WITH YOU!” This shouting was followed by tons of laughter. The kids beamed with pride as Jordan high-fived each one.
My cheeks literally hurt from smiling so wide at the utter cuteness. I immediately raced down my front porch steps. Running across the street to the sound of cheers from the kids and parents.
“COACH JORDAN, SHE’S COMING OVER HERE!” a little boy shouted.
“Will you? Will you drink coffee with him?” A tiny girl with pigtails asked when she saw me, cutting in between Jordan and me.
Jordan’s gaze was on me. He bit his lower lip. “I would love to have coffee with Coach Jordan,” I said, looking straight at him. Spotting the soccer ball a few feet from us, I added, “On one condition.”
“What’s that?” Jordan asked, crossing his arms.
“I think you should show off some of your moves for the kids.” I placed my hands on my hips.
“How do you reckon?”
“Well…” I started to take a few slow steps toward the ball, and he lifted a brow. I shuffled the ball while I said, “Come and get it?”
The remaining kids squealed, and their parents laughed. One mom said, “Jordan, you’ve met your match!”
He was breathless, chasing after me, as he said in reply, “Oh, this one has always kept me on my toes—sometimes,literally!”
I was kicking the ball as he chased me down the field, heart racing from the run, racing from his throaty laughter. He caught the ball from me and started down the field. I decided I didn’t want to play fair and leaped on his back.
Our audience was laughing, as he yelled, “Rule violation!”
But he had his hands gripped around the backs of my thighs, my skin warm where we touched, my arms laced around his neck. The two of us laughed ourselves breathless.
“What are you teaching the kids, Miss Sophia?” he asked gravelly.
“Distraction,” I whispered as I swung my body around his landing between him and the ball. I kicked it across the field. The kids cheered while I lifted my arms in victory. Jordan lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder so easily like he was tossing on a scarf as he ran after the ball, catching it as it rolled across the field. His shoulder muscles moved underneath me. He dribbled the ball, then hopped it between both feet before giving it a big kick in the other direction—all with me over his shoulder. He slid me down his body. We were both sweaty and panting, chest to chest.
