Page 62 of Striking Heat
I lie there for a moment while my teammates come rushing over.
“Are you okay? Do we need the trainer?” Cassie asks.
“No, no. I’m good.” I sit up slowly and get to my feet, shaking out my legs and twisting my back in an attempt to crack it.
San Diego’s goalie looks over at me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take you out.”
“It’s all good,” I say to her. I’m pretty sure it was an accident, and it’s not going to do any good to be snotty to her. If it were someone else, like the Utah goalie who laughed in our faces, it would be a different story.
I get a free kick out of the foul. It’s direct and I’m able to put it in the goal. It’s a gorgeous kick from just outside the box. The girls are surrounding me, and we’re all hugging.
“You are amazing!” Lola says.
“Thank you. We freaking did it! “I tell her, hugging her. She needs to know it’s all of us. Just because I scored the goals doesn’t mean I’ll make it my win. This one is ours.
We play some tough defense because San Diego is coming for us hard, but we manage to maintain our lead and beat them 3-1. The stadium is electric. The fans are on their feet cheering for us, a sight that, at the start of the game, I didn’t think I’d see.
I walk over to the rails and give high fives to the kids and fans who are leaning over it. I look up and see Danny and August are hugging up in the box. He must catch me watching him, because he tips his hat to me. I wave at them both, and August shoots me a thumbs-up.
The team huddles up, and Coach Watts gives us a talk, congratulating us on our win and thanking us for all our efforts. “Do you wanna say anything?” he asks me.
“Way to go, team. That wasn’t just one person out there. That was all of us. Thank you for your hard work! Now let’s go celebrate this win!”
The huddle erupts with cheers. There’s music blaring in the locker room, and the girls are dancing around. You would have thought we had just won some championship game. But for a team that has been down and out for a while, one win is worth celebrating.
Everyone heads out to The Backwoods to celebrate, but not me. I go home to spend some time with my rebounder. It’s a celebration of another kind.
Chapter Twenty-Five
~DANNY~
The game was a win, something Tampa has been needing. There was chemistry out there tonight—again something that’s been lacking. I’m not sure if it was the team bonding I witnessed or if the Blaze was just hungry. Mac was on fire. She ended the night with a hat trick, and I hadn’t seen her smile that big in a long time.
It was nice.
Searching the locker room areas for her, I come up empty. No Mac. I was hoping to get a glimpse of her so I could grab her, and we could talk. I don’t want to talk about work; there are no questions to ask for the article. This is time I want for just me and her. But with no sign of her at the stadium, I head to her house hoping she’ll be there.
It’s team housing, so there’s always the risk. But Mac got lucky and is in one that’s more out of the way than the rest of the team. Her backyard is private to the others, which I’m sure she appreciates, being the quiet and sometimes shy girl who would rather play the game than talk about it or socialize in large crowds. That’s a bonus to writing the article on her; I’m getting to know her more than I would be if I was just some guy hanging around abar. Sure, I feel bad when she’s telling me things because she has to. The piece is for work, after all, but even still, I enjoy the little flickers of information that come my way about the blonde beauty.
Sure enough, I can hear the sounds of the ball smacking a rebounder in the quiet of the night. I look around the well-lit complex; the townhomes the team live in are all white, with alternating-colored shutters. Mac’s backyard is fenced in. I grab the six-foot tall privacy fence gate and swing it open.
There she stands.
Her back is to me, and she has three bright blue-and-yellow Tampa Bay soccer balls at her feet. I stand here, arms crossed over my chest, taking in the sight of her. For someone who just scored three goals, her posture is telling me she’s not happy with herself—shoulders slunk low, head down. A weight has found its way onto her shoulders, and I wonder why. Everyone in the stadium had such an electric energy about them tonight. It didn’t feel like it was just the win; it looked like a group of fans who finally had confidence in their team. When that first goal went in for the San Diego Wave, I thought for sure I’d see heads shaking as I had before. But not this time.
The fans were on their feet, encouraging them to keep going. You could tell the girls felt that way too, encouraging one another on the field and on the bench. Talking more than they had in other games. Calling for passes. They looked like a team, and the crowd picked up on it. Hell, I picked up on it. I was cheering for them too, more feverishly than I normally would have been.
“What are you doing here?” Mac says, not turning around to see me.
“How did you know it was me?” I ask her, smirking at her back. Her hair is in a low ponytail and still wet from the shower. She’s got on a pair of black shorts and a white shirt. There’s no doubt in my mind that it has a Tampa Blaze logo on it.
“Lucky guess.” Mac turns so that she’s facing me.
I can see that there is in fact a Tampa Bay Blaze logo on that shirt of hers. It’s tighter than the practice shirts and jerseys she wears. This one is pulled snug across her breasts. I stare at them a bit too long, because when I look up, she’s glaring at me.
“What are you looking at?”
“I think you know,” I say, winking at her.
