Page 55 of Liberating Bells
RYAN
“Alright,guys, keep moving! Let’s go!” I shout at my team as they run their sprints.
After tryouts last week, I felt pretty confident in my selection until we did a practice shirt vs. skins scrimmage. That was when I woefully discovered my team doesn’t know how to move their feet.
So now we’re running and drilling, over and over again.
It’s about three in the afternoon. The sun is beating down heavily on us, and we’re all sweating. The boys are moaning and groaning in pain as they run. I figure I’ll give them a break here in a minute, then we can go into some dribbling drills.
Liam is standing next to me, looking out at the players through his sunglasses. Every once in a while, I’ll see him jot something down on his clipboard. The two of us were co-captains our senior year of high school. I feel like we’ll make a great coaching team as well.
I eyeball one of the seniors on the team. Last week, he made waves at the tryouts, trying to show off with fancy moves and foot tricks. He’s a talented player, and he sure knows it too.
“That Martin kid is one cocky little shit,” I mutter to Liam. He looks up at me from his clipboard and smirks.
“Yeah, he reminds me of this kid I knew when I was his age. Called himself the King of Bennett. Can you believe that?”
I laugh and shove my friend away from me. “Fuck off, man.”
Liam chuckles and comes back to stand by my side. “I’m just saying. You were a lot worse than him.”
“I was not.”
“Whatever, Ry, you got everything you wanted. The captain spot, the grades, the internship, the girl.” The words fall out of Liam’s mouth before he realizes what he’s saying. His eyes go wide, and he looks at me as if I’m going to shatter before him.
I roll my eyes, letting the boys run for a little while longer before blowing my whistle. The team comes to a slamming halt. “Bring it in, guys!”
They all fall in and crowd around. Liam explains the next set of drills that we’re going to be working on. We’re just getting ready to break and split into groups, when one of the boys peers over at the bleachers, cupping his hand above his eyes to shade from the sun.
“Is that Miss Sanders?”
The rest of the gang whips around to see who it is. And I’m sorry to say, I do too. I have no willpower.
Sure enough, there’s Miss Izabel Sanders, sitting on the bleachers, mulling over a binder in her lap, chewing on the end of a pen. As if she can tell we’re looking at her, she peeks up, and I swear I can see the brilliance of her ocean eyes from across the field. Izabel gives a hesitant wave, and the boys go nuts.
“I didn’t know she likes soccer,” one of the boys says.
“Maybe she just came to see her favorite pupil,” another one chimes in, stretching arrogantly.
“I wouldn’t mind one bit if she sent me to detention.”
I feel my face turn down into a scowl and blow my whistle again. “Get to work, guys.” They set off and split into separate groups.
Liam looks at me with his eyebrows raised, and I clear my throat. “I’m just gonna, uh, go see what she wants,” I say. “Can you run the drill for me?”
He gives me a knowing smirk. “Sure, man, take as long as you want.”
We fist bump, and then I’m walking over to the bleachers. Bells sees me coming and sets her stuff down, coming closer to the edge of the stands to talk easier. It’s hard for me to believe that our disaster of a “non-date” was already a week ago.
Since then, I’ve been walking the straight and narrow line. I’ve pretty much consumed myself with work, getting ready for the HQ presentation I’ve got to give the board of directors at Bates Industries tomorrow. Josie’s been hot on my tail, making sure that I don’t slip up with the stress and hit the bottle. She’s even attended an AA meeting with me after basically bullying me into it, despite my reluctance. As we walked out together, I was humbled enough to admit that she was right.
Just like Josie said, it’s best to nip this in the bud before it turns into anything more.
I’m biting my cheek so hard I can feel the skin break as I walk over to Bells. I know she’s been trying to reach out; I’ve got the phone notifications to prove it. I just haven’t been able to get myself to talk to her yet.
“Hey, Ryan,” she says when I’m finally within earshot. “The team’s looking good so far.”
“Ah yeah,” I respond, rubbing the back of my neck and feeling the taut muscles bunch underneath my fingers. I’m feeling a sunburn coming on, I think. “We got a long way to go.”
