“Lies.”
I shot him a look and leaned against the seat, thinking and stressing.
He let out a deep sigh. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I bit my lips and took in that soft crease between his eyebrows, the color of his eyes, the way the lines that bracketed his mouth deepened in worry. How could I go back to my life if this thing between us didn’t work out? I’d been young and angry when I’d had a huge crush on the man I only knew on paper and television. It hadn’t been real. But this was real. This Rey was real and kind when he wasn’t a major pain in the ass.
I couldn’t get rid of the apprehensive knot taking a poop in my stomach. This wasn’t a ‘what if’ I wanted to deal with. So screw it. Maybe the best thing to do would be for me to get this worry over with before the game.
“What’s going to happen when I can’t play anymore?” I asked him, shoving my hands between my thighs so he couldn’t see them shaking.
I heard him shift in his seat. The leather creaked and then continued creaking as he settled in. “What are you babbling about?”
“What are you going to do when I can’t play anymore? My knee might only have a few more years left in it. What will happen then?” I asked, eyes going to the roof of the car because there was no way I could handle his face in that moment.
“That’s what’s stressing you out?” His voice was low and too calm.
“Yeah. Mostly. On top of everything else.”
“Sal, look at me.” I let my head drop to the side so I could look at him as he spoke. In a plain white T-shirt with a check mark on it, fitted faded jeans and his favorite pair of black and green shoes, he was almost surreal. It just made what I was asking worse.
I was sitting in the backseat of a car with Reiner ‘The King’ Kulti on the way to the WPL final game, asking him if he was still going to love me once I couldn’t play anymore. Good God. Was I really bringing this crap up now? I changed my mind. I didn’t want to know yet.
I didn’t want to ever know where our limits stood.
“Sal.”
The car slowed to a stop. Behind Kulti’s head, the window showed the outline of the entrance I was supposed to be walking through.
“I’m stressed, I’m sorry. We’ll talk later, all right?”
He looked at me for what felt like a long time but was more than likely just a few seconds before finally giving me a grave nod, excusing me from the hole I’d dug for myself.
I couldn’t breathe, and I needed to focus. My hands were still shaking, and I was more nervous than I’d been since I was a teenager playing in my first U-17 game. Life would still go on regardless of what happened, I reminded myself. Swallowing hard, I smiled at the German. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it,” he responded, his face still ultra-serious.
Get it together, Sal. Focus, focus, focus. “Find me after the game?” I asked.
“Yes.” He said a word in German I thought meant ‘always’ but I didn’t want to really think about it.
I flashed him a smile and got out of the car. Just as I was about to slam it closed, Kulti piped up, “Focus!”
* * *
There are some games that I’ll sit back and recall like I was a fan in the stands watching the action.
The first half went slow and no one scored. There was nothing memorable about it.
In the second half, a light was burning under both teams’ asses. Defense and offense, both teams were on it. The game took a turn for the vicious by the time the fourth yellow card was thrown up; one was Harlow’s and two were mine. We hustled, we sweat. We ran and we fought against the Blazers.
And in the last fifteen minutes of the second half, a team scored.
It wasn’t us.
We couldn’t manage to get a solid hold on the ball at any point afterward.
And we lost. It was that simple.
We freaking lost.
It was like having your dog eat your homework. Losing reminded me of when you’re typing something in a document and then your computer restarts on its own. Or baking a cake and it doesn’t rise.
Using the word ‘crushing’ might have been a little extreme, but it was the truth. For me, at least. I was crushed.
Watching the other team yelling and cheering, hugging each other…
Honestly, I wanted to punch each of them in the face and follow that up with a good cry. You don’t always win and that’s the truth with everything ever, but…
We lost.
* * *
I pressed my closed fists to the bones above my eyebrows after time had ended. I looked up into the stands; the disappointment was apparent on so many people’s faces. I had to look away, watching our fans was chewing up my stomach. Pipers were scattered around the field, looking just as dazed as I felt. No one could believe what had just happened. I definitely couldn’t.