Kulti(21)

I scrubbed at my face with the back of my hand. “I’m all right.”

She eyed me a little critically before asking, “What else is up?”

Jenny wasn’t going to leave me alone about it. I scratched at the tip of my nose and made sure no one was close enough to hear me. “This morning some writer brought up the Kulti-Eric thing.” Frustration bubbled in my throat. “I’m a little worried about it.”

My friend let out a low whistle, completely aware of the situation.

“Yeah,” I agreed to her wince.

“Why? That’s old news.”

I shrugged. Yeah, it was. “I know, right?”

She nodded in agreement.

“I’m just a little grumpy about it, I guess.”

“Take a breather,” she demanded easily. “We’re only allowed one person to have looking like a serial killer on the field.”

At the same time our eyes swung around to search out Harlow. When we looked back at each other, we smirked. Harlow was awesome but… she really did look like a murderer. I could have easily imagined her as a Viking princess, raiding villages and mounting people’s heads on spikes.

“Who’s ready for some three-on-three drills?” Coach Gardner yelled.

High-intensity drills, my favorite.

I must have smiled or something because I heard Jenny clearly murmur, “You’re a monster,” under her breath.

I pushed my ankle, The King and Eric out of my head, and smacked Jenny on the butt cheek right before I took off toward the coaches. “You coming?”

She sighed and shook her head before taking off behind me.

We arranged three different mini-fields for our games. I went into the first group to play a five-minute game. The game finished a blink of an eye later and the groups switched places, the girls off the field replacing the ones who just played.

I spotted Harlow walking toward the sidelines and started to make my way toward her, bypassing Kulti and Coach Gardner standing together. The other man held out his fist for me to bump the side of mine against. “Have you been working on your left foot?”

I grinned at him. I’d worked on it a lot. A lot. It was the result of hours and hours spent running with the ball during our offseason. It had always been pretty good, but I wanted it to be better. “I have. Thanks, G.” I bumped my fist against his once more and honestly, I’m not positive why I paused afterward.

What was I expecting? Maybe a compliment from The King or at least a look, a tiny fraction of acknowledgment? Any of the above would be nice. But it was just a blip of a second too long, long enough to be noticeable, for Gardner to glance at the German out of the corner of his eye like he was expecting him to say something too.

But he didn’t.

Those almost-hazel eyes, like a murky pond, didn’t even look at me.

Embarrassment bled through my insides, my belly and my throat specifically. What could have been acid or just overactive nerves in my cheeks made them feel weird as I forced an easygoing smile on my face that told Gardner it was fine that I’d just been ignored. But really, I was seething and dying a little inside.

I knew better. Damn it, I knew better. Hadn’t he done the same thing to me before?

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had just looked right past me like I didn’t fucking exist, and I didn’t mean that in some vain pretentious way. Most people I met were friendly, and if they were shy at least they’d look me in the eye before looking away. Most assholes were at least dismissive after a quick glance. But this ass-wipe hadn’t even spared the calories he could have burned turning his neck in my direction.

Nothing, he’d done nothing.

I smiled at Gardner a little tighter and gave him another quick nod before striding toward Harlow, this ugly feeling clenching my gut.

“What’s wrong, Sally?” Har asked me in a concerned voice the minute I made it to where she was waiting.

Was I that obvious? I guess so.





Chapter Five





Two weeks went by in the blink of an eye, just like I knew they would. Days became a repetition of each other. They were a steady, reliable daily battle that had to be perfectly planned.

6:15 a.m. – A run.

7:00 a.m. – Breakfast.

7:20 a.m. – Make lunch.

7:45 a.m. – Attempt to dodge the media / if I failed: talk for ten minutes

8 a.m. – Pipers practice followed by a protein shake.

11:30 a.m. – Lunch in the car.

12 p.m. – Wait for Marc to pick me up so we could go to an afternoon appointment(s)

6 p.m. – Yoga / weightlifting / gardening / maybe a swim / anything else.

7 p.m. – Dinner.

8 p.m. – A shower.

8:30 p.m. – A snack / television / reading time.