Page 15 of Stealing for Keeps
I explained the situation at Doyle’s before he left, but all he would say is “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
And I hadn’t. But even knowing what I do now, I can’t say I don’t want to do it again.
I drop my bag and take my ball over to where the team has huddled, waiting to take the field.
Barrett spots me first, his grin pulling up one side of his mouth. “New Guy, you showed. Good for you. Kiss any more of Collins’s ex-girlfriends last night?”
The entire group snickers. I decide not to let them get to me. I know guys like Barrett back in Arizona. He wants to get a reaction out of me, but I’m not letting any of them see me sweat. I can be a valuable player on this team. No way petty drama is going to get in my way.
“Not that I know of,” I say, matching his grin.
Their laughter grows louder. Moving my gaze to the girls on the field and hopefully dissuading my team from razzing me further, I raise the ball over my head and stretch.
When the girls finish practice and we take over, I still haven’t spotted Vaughn. He doesn’t show up until the very last second, falling into the back of the group as Coach blows the whistle and gives us warm-up instructions.
We jog circles around the field in a pack. Vaughn is at the back, and I’m in the front. I assumed he’d naturally make his way forward since he’s one of the fastest on the team, but after two laps, he hasn’t. I fall back until I’m beside him.
Sweat trickles down my forehead, but my legs are beginning to feel warm and loose.
“Hey,” I say, nodding my head.
His gaze stays locked forward. Coach blows the whistle, and we finish the lap and grab water. I stick next to Vaughn. Rowan side-eyes me from a few feet away.
“Last night was wild, right? I should have expected that the guys were going to pull something. Are we good?”
“It’s fine, Keller.” Vaughn doesn’t look me in the eye, but I take him at his word.
He seems like a straightforward guy, and I’m looking forward to playing soccer with him. Everything I know about him points to us having a similar love and determination for the sport.
“How long were you two together?” I’m not exactly prying, but I do find myself hoping he’ll share a little more about his ex. When he doesn’t, I add, “I wouldn’t have kissed her if I’d known, but she seems cool.”
Rowan clears his throat nearby. I glance quickly at him,and he’s shaking his head in warning, but I’m not sure why until I notice the stony expression on Vaughn’s face.
I try to backpedal, but I’m not even sure why he’s so mad. All I said was that she seemed cool. “I just mean I can see why you were into her. She’s superhot and—”
The daggers shooting out of his eyes only intensify, but luckily Coach blows the whistle again before I can put my foot in my mouth any further. I mean, does he really think no one else has noticed Claire is a knockout?
“Break into groups of three for defending drills,” Coach bellows from the middle of the field.
I glance around to see trios forming all around me.
“You want to be in our group, Keller?” Vaughn asks. He has Doyle with him, the senior defender whose family owns the cabin Rowan took me to last night.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, not able to hide the surprise in my voice. I noticed yesterday that Vaughn always positions himself to go up against the best guys in practice. Maybe I misread him, and he’s not pissed about Claire. I’m happy to put it all behind us.
Coach has laid out cones down the field for each of the groups. One person is on offense, another on defense, and one person is out. The idea is simple: offense passes the ball to defense, defense passes it back and then rushes the offense, who tries to get past the defender.
I’m first up on defense. Vaughn passes me the ball, and I pass it back, then run toward him. He’s a great ball handler, maybe the best I’ve ever played with, but I dig deep. He goes right, and I match him. Vaughn is patient though. He moves from side to side, waiting for an opportunity. It comes when he fakes right, then left, and gets me on my heels. He’s past me on the right before I regain my footing.
“Nice job,” I say and offer him my hand.
He turns without acknowledging me and kicks the ball to Doyle, who is now on offense.
It’s a quick drill but high intensity. Offense becomes defense, then gets a short break. But with how fast everything moves, it isn’t much of a breather.
Doyle and I are tired after only a few rotations. He’s wheezing, audibly dragging in air to his lungs at every pause in action. Vaughn doesn’t seem to be struggling at all. If he weren’t sweating, I’d call him a machine.
On my fourth try, I wipe my forehead and concentrate. Vaughn is talented, but he prefers faking left and going right. He’s done it two out of the three times we’ve done this drill. We pass the ball back and forth, and then I attack, leaving enough room between us that I can react and keep him from blowing by me.
