Scoring Wilder

  He arched his dark brow as his eyes scanned down my outfit once more. When he looked at me like that it felt very inappropriate. Maybe it was just the way my body reacted to him. Damnit, he was distracting me. I was supposed to be Nancy Drew, and instead I was Nancy Draw-the-blinds-and-put-it-in-me. Wait, what?

  “Girls are much more creative than guys when it comes to hazing. I think we just had to run a lot and prove we could drink a six pack without puking.”

  I laughed. “That doesn’t seem so bad. I can run for days.”

  “Yeah, but you’re kind of a lightweight,” he said with a smile.

  “Hey! I had four shots before I got to the party on Saturday.”

  He smirked a private little smirk that made my knees weak.

  “Okay, so maybe I can’t handle a six pack, but do you think you could handle this outfit?” I asked, grabbing the hem of my yellow tutu between my fingers.

  He cocked a brow, his eyes studying the exposed skin between my tutu and long soccer socks before he pulled his gaze away with a hard expression. It seemed like he was fighting against his urge to look at my body.

  Oh god, what were we doing? I gulped and moved passed him toward the conference room before he could reply. Being alone with him was a bad idea, like playing around water when you can’t swim.

  "There's our snitch," Tara declared as I walked into the room with Liam on my heels.

  I glanced up at him as I took my seat beside Becca. His jaw was clenched and he'd furrowed his brows as if contemplating something. A moment later, Coach Davis walked in and Liam stepped back against the wall and crossed his arms.

  "Ah, ladies, you're looking ridiculous this morning. I'm assuming this is all in good fun, Tara?" she asked with a hard stare.

  "Absolutely! Just a little fun way to welcome the rookies," Tara answered. Did Coach Davis actually believe her? I mean, none of us looked like we were having any fun at all. The rookie that was dressed up as broomstick couldn’t even sit down.

  "All right, let's just make sure that it doesn't interfere with practice or I'll need everyone to change into other workout clothes."

  As if to make the situation worse, today was the first day we split up into position exercises, which meant that Becca and Emily were on the other side of the field and I was left with Tara, Sofie, Liam, and a few other upperclassmen. We were quite a motley crew.

  "I think out of everyone, we did the best job making you look ridiculous, Kinsley," Sofie commented with a wicked smile.

  Liam was setting up cones and hadn't heard her comment so I was left standing there trying to push aside my temper.

  "I completely agree. She looks hideous," Tara commented.

  "All right guys—" I began, taking a step toward the dynamic duo.

  "Tara," Liam stated from behind me, "my first piece of advice for you is to learn how to be in a leadership role without letting it go to your head."

  Oh shit, he'd heard her.

  "The team thrives off of your leadership, so if you want to keep treating the underclassmen like shit, that’s fine, just be prepared for a long, mediocre season,” he paused and his grey eyes met mine, “… after all, having chemistry on a team is much more important than people realize.”

  Woah. Was I imagining a glint in his eye and the sex swing suddenly hanging from a tree beside the field?

  When he turned to go set up more cones, Tara locked her eyes on me and I knew that Liam had just made my life ten thousand times worse. That's what guys don't understand. He thought he nipped the problem in the bud, but in reality he had just poured lighter fluid all over me and handed Tara a lit match. Light er’ up, boys.

  A few minutes later, I was waiting for my turn when Liam spoke, "You should let me know if she keeps tormenting you.” I was the last person in line, and the girl in front of me was midway through her drill.

  "I think it might make it worse, but thanks," I nodded, moving to take my turn.

  He nodded, keeping his lips pressed together in a thin line, before adding, "And you definitely don't look hideous."

  I paused, trying to think of how to respond. The way his dark tone had emphasized the words made it perfectly clear what he meant— what he was trying to tell me without passing any invisible boundaries.

  Holy shit. Liam Wilder, the sexiest and most out-of-my-league man, just told me I was not hideous. I’ll take the compliment, thank you very much.

  "You're up," he motioned, and before I thought better of it, I turned and gave him a small, private smile.

  …

  "Uh oh, looks like you have another package today," Becca called from the front seat. She'd driven us to get lunch, and Emily had called shotgun before me (the quiet ones are always the deadliest), so I was in the back, texting my mom about practice and telling her about the ridiculous outfits. The outfit that was now burned to ash in our backyard.

  I leaned forward expecting to see another brown box, but instead I found Josh sitting at the foot of our small white porch. We ran a few errands after lunch, so I guess that gave Josh enough time to beat us home after his practice ended.

  Which meant Liam was out of practice, too. Cue dream sequence of Liam running slowly on a beach carrying me in his arms. I love how he’s strong enough to carry me with one arm while using the other arm to feed the seagulls. He’s such an animal lover like that.

  "Did you know he was going to be here?" Emily asked, shifting her gaze back to me. Oh, right. Josh.

  I sighed. "Nope, I actually forgot to text him back yesterday, so I don't know what his plan is."

  Becca pulled into the driveway and then she and Emily hurried inside, throwing Josh a quick wave as they passed. Traitors. They abandoned me right when I needed backup the most.

  "Kinsley!" Josh smiled, hopping up off the porch and heading toward me.

  "Hi Josh," I muttered, stuffing my hands into the back pockets of my cuffed white shorts.

  "How are you? Have practices been really hard?" he asked.

  Why was he trying to be the nice guy in this scenario? Couldn't he have just moved on and made it easier for everyone? Every time I saw his face I had to battle the urge to punch him— but if he asked me how my day was and then I punched him, wouldn’t that make me the bitch? How was your day – punch.

  I sighed and answered him as politely as possible. "It's been a lot harder than I expected, but I like most of my teammates. What about you?"

  I knew he wasn't expecting me to answer him so politely. His face broke out into a relieved smile.

  "It's been killer. I was used to being the best, but these guys on the team are pros through and through. Wilder really surprised me. I thought he was a party boy, but when he gets on the field, it's all business. The team really respects him." It was strange hearing him talk about Liam like that. He had no clue that I'd even met him.

  "He's helping out at our practices in the morning," I offered, mainly so I could keep the conversation in neutral territory.

  Josh scrunched his brows. "Seriously? At ULA practices? He must be crazy busy."

  I shrugged and moved passed him to sit on the bottom step of the porch. "I guess he has some free time.”

  "Well that's good. I bet the girls love him. You shouldn't let him get to you, though. I've heard he's a serial flirt."

  Like a flicking of a light switch, that comment instantly reminded me of why I was sitting outside with Josh in the first place. What the hell was I doing having a pleasant conversation with this guy?

  "I'm not so sure you should be handing out advice about that sort of thing. What do you need, Josh?"

  He winced. "Yeah, that's true. Seriously, Kinsley, you have to let me explain."

  I looked him over, realizing that if he was going to keep popping into my life, and I knew he would because there was already a party planned for Saturday night, then I needed to get this conversation over with.

  "Fine, I'm all ears," I answered, and then wrapped my arms around my knees as I watched him pace back and fort
h in front of the porch. I'm sure the girls could hear our conversation inside, but I didn't really care.

  "Kinsley, I never meant to hurt you. That girl, Jenny, means nothing to me. We were friends from camp and she'd been texting me, wanting to hangout. I kept brushing her off, but then she showed up at my apartment."

  I wanted to interrupt him and ask how she even knew where his apartment was, but there was no point.

  "I let her inside and she practically threw herself on me. She'd heard I made the LA Stars team and I think she wanted to say that she'd hooked up with a professional soccer player. You and I hadn't been doing much of anything lately because we were busy with tryouts, and I just wasn't thinking. I made a huge mistake."

  What a lame excuse. The lamest fucking excuse I’ve ever heard.

  "So whenever you're horny, you'll accept the first girl that throws herself at you? You're just an asshole that wanted to get laid."

  "I don't love her, Kinsley. It meant nothing."

  I nodded, feeling tears burning the side of eyes. I did NOT want to cry in front of Josh. He didn't deserve the satisfaction. He'd been one of my best friends throughout high school. When Trey had cheated on me, Josh had been there for me, telling me what an asshole Trey had been. And when we finally got together almost a year later, he swore to protect my heart. Bullshit. All of it.

  "Okay," I finally answered when he wouldn't stop staring at me.

  He expected me to fight him on it, but I didn't have any fight left in me for guys like Josh. Like Trey. Hell, even Liam was probably no better than the rest.

  "Okay?" he asked.

  I stood up off the porch and took a deep breath. "You said what you needed to say, Josh. We're still not getting back together."

  "Kinsley, please don't end this yet. Please think about it. I'd be a fucking fool if I let you go. Do you realize that?"

  I wanted to clarify that he wasn't letting me go, I left, but I held my tongue for fear that the waterworks would start soon.

  "I'll see you at the party on Saturday, Josh. We can be friends, okay?" I didn't wait for him to answer; I spun around and ran into the house.

  A few sophomores that were huddled at the door tried to act as if they were having a conversation, but all of their sentences were jumbled together.

  "Oh yeah, the weather— practice sucked— did you see the last episode of Vampire Diaries?"

  I didn't stop to tell them to mind their own business; I ran straight upstairs and fell back on my bed. A few seconds later, there was a light tapping on my door.

  "Kinsley?" Becca asked barely above a whisper, like she feared that I would break if she spoke too loudly.

  "Will you get your ass in here and grab Emily? I'm not about to wallow by myself."

  "Sure thing, punk. PS. If you want me to pretend I didn't hear anything so you can vent, I will."

  I propped my head up and smiled. Becca understood me better than most people and she'd only known me for five days.

  "Thanks, but I'm assuming you had your ear pressed against the window the whole time."

  She scoffed. "I'm not an amateur. I cracked it open a little bit." She winked and then turned to go find Emily.

  …

  The next day at practice, I was stretching off to the side of the field when Liam broke off from talking to Coach Davis and started to make his way over to me. I dropped my head quickly, pretending to be enthralled in my stretches.

  “Your drills are looking better,” he complimented as he reached me. I looked up just as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared off toward the rest of the team.

  “Thanks. I’m actually a decent soccer player when my body isn’t running on jell-o shots and I’m not dressed in a leotard,” I joked, reaching to stretch my other leg.

  He smiled and shifted his attention toward me, but he had to narrow his eyes to see me through the sunlight.

  “Are you planning on training for the Olympic tryouts?” he asked with a hopeful tone.

  “That’s the plan,” I replied. “I chose ULA because of Coach Davis.”

  “That was a smart move. The way she runs her practices will be similar to tryouts, I’m sure.”

  I nodded, unsure of where our conversation would lead.

  “Your cheek healed up nicely,” he said with a private smile.

  I couldn’t help but smile back at him as I reached up to feel where the remnants of my bruise were hidden beneath a thin layer of sweat.

  We stood there for a moment before I asked a question that had troubled me for the past few days.

  “So are you really as wild as the tabloids make you out to be?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He rubbed his chin and cast his gaze to the ground, as if scrolling through past memories. “Can I say I’m a reformed bad boy without sounding like a tool?” He laughed. “I started playing professional soccer when I was twenty and I went a little… wild. When I had a few endorsement deals threaten to cut me loose, I realized I had to change my game plan.”

  “When was this?”

  “Three months ago,” he answered as he traced a patch of grass with his cleat. “I’m still kissing ass to some of my endorsers.”

  “Would they really drop you because of your personal life?”

  He furrowed his brow before responding. “When Tiger Woods had that affair, he was dropped by most of his sponsors. They don’t want scandals associated with their brands.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” I narrowed my eyes at him, “Y’know, three months isn’t a very long time… maybe you have some residual bad boy left?”

  His eyes shot up to mine as a slow smirk unpeeled across his lips.

  Leave while he still thinks you’re somewhat-charming.

  “I gotta get back to practice,” I said as I saw the girls running back onto the field from our water break. As I ran toward them, I tried to tell myself the adrenaline coursing through my system was from practice and not from our little exchange.

  The next day passed quickly with no sign of Liam at practice and no more attempts at hazing. I was more worried about the absence of Liam than the potential hazing. That is until Becca barged into my room Thursday night.

  "Guess why Liam, I'm sorry, Coach Wilder, wasn't at practice today," she said, shutting the door and locking it behind her. Her blonde hair was piled in a messy bun and she was wearing some kind of onesie pajama set.

  I put my book down. "What? Why?"

  She smiled cheekily and plopped her laptop down on my bed.

  "Because our dream-of-a-coach was on the Tonight Show just now," she explained with a proud grin. "He's been doing press for the LA Stars."

  "That's so awesome! Can we watch it?"

  "You’re like fifty steps behind me. I’m already streaming it. Scoot over," she said, crawling up next me.

  “Should we get Emily?” I asked.

  “I just checked. She’s on the phone with her lover boy.”

  "Ah, all right. This is so awesome," I squealed, excited at the idea of watching Liam for twenty minutes without having to worry that he'd catch me staring. "Also, should we talk about the footed pajamas or are we just going to ignore it?" I laughed, eyeing her clothes.

  Becca shot me a playful glare. "Don't knock it till you try it. Seriously, I'd wear them everywhere if I could."

  "And you wonder why you're still a virgin," I joked, fully prepared for the punch that was about to happen.

  Right on cue, she smacked me in the arm. "That is so not cool! If I didn't know I was pretty and awesome, I'd have a major complex about still being a virgin."

  "But you're only nineteen. That's still really young."

  She narrowed her eyes and then tilted her head away from me so that her next words came out as a jumbled mess.

  "Ihaven'toendnehaout."

  "What? I can't hear you. Speak up."

  "Ihaven'tdoneanythingpashedmaeurh—"

  I laughed and cupped my hand around my ear. "Am I freaking deaf or are you mumbl
ing?"

  "I haven't done anything past making out, okay!" she shouted, and then threw a pillow at me.

  I caught it and tossed it aside, and was about to laugh, but then I realized that she was being way more serious than usual. This freaking gorgeous girl shouldn't feel self-conscious about her experience level. What did it matter if I had a sloppy kiss at fifteen? And horrible, awkward sex at seventeen? I didn't regret it, but it was nothing to write home about.

  "Seriously, don't worry about it. It's not like my experiences have been all that great."

  She nodded and flipped open her laptop, effectively closing the subject.

  Just as she promised, Liam popped up on the screen sitting next to the Tonight Show host. He looked devastatingly handsome in a black suit with styled hair and a cleanly-shaven face. He'd skipped a tie and kept the top buttons of his shirt undone so that every female member of the audience was screaming bloody murder.

  "Jeez, I can't believe we actually get to be coached by that guy. How crazy is that?" Becca asked. I couldn't pull my attention away long enough to answer her.

  The Tonight Show host was trying to start the interview, but the girls in the crowd wouldn't stop screaming. It was quite funny, and Liam played it off well, looking humble and charming. Finally the girls settled down and the host and Liam laughed and shrugged as if to say, what are you going to do?

  "His hair looks good like that, usually it's not styled that wa—"

  "Shh!" I cut her off just as the host asked his first question.

  "So Liam, I was going to ask what it was like being one of the sexiest men alive, but I think our audience answered that question for me," the host began, and everyone laughed.

  Liam looked down and rubbed his chin between his thumb and pointer finger. I'd seen him do the same move a few times before, but seeing it on national television felt strangely surreal. This was the guy that had saved me from Tara on the soccer field. Underneath that body and face, there might be a big heart, and I couldn't figure out how that could be possible.

  "It's not usually like this, I assure you. In LA I live a pretty private life," Liam answered with a small smile.