“Want to play football?” Jaime asked. “We need another player.”
I dropped my bag at my feet and leaned into him. “I was the soccer team star when I was five.” I didn’t break his gaze and felt my nose grow with deceit. “Am I on your team?”
He looked past me at the guys standing around, waiting to play. “Nah, other team.”
“You’re on. You’re still coming to Dublin with us next weekend, right?”
He cocked his head back. “Aye.”
“Winner gets to pick out the Halloween costume of the loser for next weekend.”
He stuck out his hand. “Deal.” I stayed in step with him as he jogged back to his friends.
Turning on my biggest smile and confident stature, I joined the group but stayed close to Owen. Wiping my sweaty palms on the back of my jeans, I introduced myself to the guys, hoping my confidence made me competent. I can’t play sports. What am I doing? Just go with it. Images of Jaime dressed like a cowboy in tight jeans that squeezed his round, muscular butt, passed through my mind, and I shivered with anticipation. I must win.
Chapter 19
Americans obsessed over soccer when their kids were little and needed to learn how to play a sport. We had a national soccer team, but they never dominated cable as they did in Europe. I knew the basics but didn’t know the official rules. You run and try to get the ball in the net, right? No hands allowed. It can’t be that hard.
Owen motioned for everyone to join the huddle and I found myself wedged between a short, skinny guy covered in freckles and a tall, wide guy with chiseled arms. I recognized some guys from the party, but didn’t know anyone’s name except for Owen. Aoife sat on the sidelines near the dropped backpacks, and I half-waved in her direction before leaning into the huddle.
“We’re tied. The next team to score wins,” Owen recapped. “Paddy, you’re fast; I need you to take the ball. Rory, I need you to block Jaime. Everyone else, you’ll have to switch between attacking and defending.” I nodded at the fellows like I could do this with my eyes closed.
Stay with Jaime. I zeroed in on him and lunged forward to prepare myself for kick off. Before I could process what was happening, the guys moved like a blob, racing back and forth from side to side. I tried to stay out of their way, avoiding contact, but remained focused on my main target.
I waved my arms around his head like I was playing basketball and blocking a shot at the hoop.
He squinted and tipped his head before sidestepping past me. I spun in a semi-circle and raced after him. I didn’t know where our goal was, but if I didn’t have the ball, it didn’t matter.
My heart threatened to bust my chest open, and I could feel it beating through my fingertips. Desperate for water, I leaned over, clutching my side. Sweat droplets formed at my hairline, and I cursed global warming for stopping the rain from falling today. My jeans hung at my hips, and the hem of my pants dragged along the grass. I yanked them up and ran toward Jaime at full speed.
The ball traveled up and down the field, and a small crowd of people huddled near the goalpost cheered. Eventually, my parched throat hurt to swallow, and I stopped running. Clammy streams of sweat ran down my face, and I regretted not wearing deodorant that day. I couldn’t show weakness, so I fought through, pretending I was a superhero with healing powers. Almost over, Rory. Keep running.
Jaime had the ball, and he was coming close to a goal. I didn’t know if it was my goal, but I assumed he knew where he was running. Cutting in front of him, I kicked for the ball, but my foot smashed into his shin. He tumbled to the ground, rolling with his knee pressed to his chest. His face pulled into a grimace, and his eyes squinted shut as he hollered through clenched teeth.
“Jaime!” I knelt at his side. “Are you okay?” The rest of the guys swarmed around us.
“Yeah, lovely.”
I pulled back at his harsh voice, knowing I had gone too far. I held my hand to pull him up, but he pushed against the ground and limped to the sideline.
Aoife jogged to us and handed Jaime a water bottle. “Need a drink, aye?”
He unscrewed the cap and guzzled four gulps before wiping his mustache with the back of his filthy arm. “Thanks, Aoife.” He handed it back to her, and she finished the bottle.
I cocked my head, and shielded my eyes from the bright sun.
“Rory, you coming back?” Owen yelled over the grassy field.
I turned to him, then back to Jaime. “Are you okay?”
“I’m injured, but fine. Go play.”
Aoife sat beside him on the grass and smirked up at me. “No worries. I’ll take care of him.”
I narrowed my eyes and turned my lips upward. “Sure thing.”
The rest of the game was a blur. I didn’t know who I needed to be blocking or even who was on my team. Every time I ran up and down the field, my eyes darted to where Jaime and Aoife were talking, and my heart pounded from jealousy or exertion; I wasn’t sure which. This unfamiliar feeling prickled my skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I ran with the group, trying to disappear into the crowd. Occasionally the ball whizzed past my head, taking me by surprise. My eyes traveled with it as it flew between two sticks, acting as the goal. I spun to see Jaime’s reaction, but he was deep in conversation with Aoife, handing her his phone.
