Page 247 of We Shouldn't Be Together
Coach wants us all gathered round for a final talk. I hang at the back, guzzling from a water bottle and hoping to drown out his words.
Yeah, it wasn’t a superstar performance. But this isn’t under regular circumstances. I was being scrutinized by a man who’s coming around to the idea of not hating me. Last night, he ended our dinner, almost liking me. It was weird. I can’t jeopardize that progress. Tabitha is more important than a game. And this sport is half my life. But I won’t let a field injury put Dr. Jones against me. I’m not giving the man any reasons to tell Tabitha to end things with me for good.
Once Coach Lyle is done with us, I dump my water bottle, and my grandparents are quick to move in.
“You did your best, kid,” Grandma says, with her fists clenched like she’s about to cheer again. “No one can say you didn’t give it your all.”
“We’re proud of you, Kai,” Grandpa boasts. “You’ve got skills, and no one can take that away from you.”
I thank them both and then slip past my parents. When Mom and Dad give me their sympathies, I tell them I’ll be right back.
It’s time to face the music. At a fast pace, I make it down to where Tabitha and her dad were watching the game.
“I’m sorry that you lost,” Tabby says with a perfect pout. “You still played really well, though.”
I smirk. “No, I didn’t.”
“Are you kidding?” she gushes. “You’re so fast, and you keep fighting. Dad and I were chatting about it throughout the match.”
I suck in a breath and bravely look at Dr. Jones.
He extends his hand to me. “Good effort, Kai.”
I shake his hand. “Thanks, sir.”
“Tabby tells me you usually win these games.”
I nod. “This is our first loss. Doesn’t feel too good.”
“You’ll be fine,” Dr. Jones says with a curving smile. “Losing is humbling. You know what they say, ‘pride comes before a fall.’”
There’s an ache in my chest and I breathe it loose. I glance at Tabby and my shoulders droop.
The first time we texted after a soccer game, she mentioned what her father says about pride. I took it as an insult. But now, when he looks at me with admiration and respect, I indeed feel humble.
“Thanks, Dr. Jones. I’ll admit, I’d prefer if you saw me win, but I’m feeling better about the loss.”
He pats my shoulder. “Fantastic. Perhaps you’re growing up?”
My brow raises with skepticism. “Crazier things have happened.”
Tabby clasps my hand, swinging it gently. “You look happy, Kai.”
“How could I not be,” I launch into full sap mode as I squeeze her hand, “when I’m with you?”
Tabby giggles, bending a knee as she sways with bashfulness.
“Okay, okay,” Dr. Jones says with a chuckle. “I don’t need to witness any serenading. Kai, I’m guessing you’re going home now?”
I pull at my jersey. “Yeah, I’m gross.”
He turns to his daughter. “We’ll head home, and you can see Kai later today.”
Tabby bounces on the balls of her feet. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
I peck Tabby’s cheek and say goodbye to both of them. Tabby and I are both visibly happy to leave it at that. Dr. Jones allowed us to hang out without either of us asking. I call that a seal of approval.
“Thanks for your help out there,” Tyler grumbles, pulling his gym bag over his shoulder.
