The Boyfriend Game Page 2

  I rounded the corner and saw the guy I’d noticed during practice. I immediately tripped on my soccer ball and went down. I popped back up, watching as he dribbled two balls through an obstacle course of cones.

  His head was down and his body loose. He had the great build that all soccer players have, with strong legs and fit upper bodies. His hair was dark and stuck to his head. Unlike Kirk-the-idiot, he’d been sweating. And he was good too. Why hadn’t I seen him before? I knew everyone who played soccer.

  Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like I was going to talk to him.

  I picked up my ball and started to turn away to find somewhere else to practice, when he lifted his head and looked right at me.

  And I totally forgot what I’d been about to do.

  2

  He stopped drilling, flicked one of the balls up with his toe, then bounced it off his knee, then flipped his foot behind him and caught the ball off his heel. Hackey sack for soccer players, and he was good.

  He bounced the ball high off his thigh, let it land on his forehead, then headed it straight up in the air, then did it again, dribbling off his forehead, arms out for balance, feet moving quickly to stay under the ball.

  Okay, he was really good.

  And showing off. Typical guy. Why couldn’t guys just be normal?

  I rolled my eyes and started to turn away, then saw him head the ball at me.

  Reacting instinctively, I spun back toward him and blocked it with my foot. He grinned and nailed the second ball at me. I headed it back toward him and he trapped it with his right foot. He flipped the ball up at me again with his toe and I caught it as he walked up. “Nice reactions,” he said.

  No comment about my hair or my looks? That alone was almost enough to redeem him from showing off with the hackey sack moves. “Thanks.”

  “What’s up?” He raised his brows in question, and I noticed his eyes. Greenish brown. Intense. Not like Kirk’s, which were always shifting and checking me out and stuff. This guy was simply waiting for an answer. Like he actually wanted to know what I had to say.

  I relaxed a little bit. “Soccer.” Like anything else mattered, right? He was out here practicing. He might actually understand where I was coming from.

  He nodded. “Me too. I’m Graham Fordham, just transferred here a couple weeks ago. You are…?” There were trickles of sweat dripping down the sides of his face. He didn’t smell bad, though. He just had the scent of sports. Of athletics. It was real, not like Kirk’s cologne or whatever he used. I liked it. I mean, I didn’t like it, like it. It just made me feel comfortable.

  So I grinned. “Trisha.”

  He used his toe to tug my ball out from under my foot and I let him. “So, what are you doing on the fields at this hour?” he asked.

  “Trying to find a place to practice. You?”

  He started in on the hackey sack thing again, and this time I realized that he was paying more attention to the ball than to me. Maybe he wasn’t showing off. Maybe he was just doing it because he liked to do it.

  Huh. If I could do that, I’d probably do it a lot too.

  “Same here,” he said. “I need to beat out Tim Hamilton for center forward, so I’m taking a little extra practice.” He bounced the ball off his right knee, then his left, then right, then left…. “You any good?”

  “I can’t do that,” I blurted out.

  He grinned, showing a dimple, his gaze flicking briefly to me before focusing on the ball again. “So, that’s why you’re practicing? Because you’re terrible?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I’m not terrible. Why? Are you terrible?”

  “Never.” He caught the ball and eyed me. “You staying around for a while?”

  “’Til it’s dark.”

  “You want to drill, or what?”

  A flash of nervousness ran through me. I swallowed, suddenly very aware that he was a guy. Was this his way of making a move on me? Yeah, not interested. “Um, I kinda…was going to do some on my own.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Then he turned, dropped the ball, and dribbled away. Instantly, I felt a stab of regret as I watched him maneuver the cones. He’d been totally normal with me, and he was way better than I was. It would have been awesome to drill with him. Awesome because it would help my game, and that’s why I was here.

  He peered back over his shoulder at me. “You coming?”

  I hesitated.

  “Afraid you can’t keep up with me?” He stopped and started doing the hackey sack thing again.

  I smiled. “No way.”

  “Don’t believe you.”

  I thought of the girls on varsity practicing around the corner and of Sara and Beth off with Kirk, leaving me behind. This kind of practice was exactly what I needed, and he hadn’t seemed to even notice I was a girl.

  “Well?”

  I can handle this. “Fine.” I dropped my ball to the field, then dribbled toward him. “I’m in.”

  He flashed me a grin and then spun back toward the cones. “Follow me.”

  Five minutes later, he’d reset the cones so there were two lines. One had about twice as many cones as the other, but it was the same setup. He pointed to the one with more cones. “That’s my course. We’ll start at the same time and race through it. To the end and back. Loser has to run a lap.”

  I bit back a complaint about the fact he had more cones than I did. If he wanted to give himself a handicap, I’d make him pay. “Fine.”

  “If you knock down a cone, ten push-ups.”

  I chuckled. My adrenaline kicked in. “Be prepared to run a lap.”

  He laughed back. “You’d better beat me. You have half the cones I do.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  “Let’s see it, then.” He took his ball and lined up behind the start line he’d set up.

  I moved next to him, my muscles relaxed and my mind focused. He was so going down. Guys didn’t take girls seriously on the sports field, and he was going to learn he’d made a mistake.

  “You call it,” he said.

  I nodded and took my stance. “Ready.”

  He set his gaze on the cones.

  “Set.”

  We both tensed.

  “Go!”

  I took off, burning through the cones, listening to him breathing heavily right beside me. I pressed harder, determined to leave him behind, but he didn’t go away. Come on, Trisha! The cones blurred past my feet, and I hit the end, spun around the cone, and headed back, digging in as hard as I could, even as I was aware of him pulling ahead of me.

  My quads were screaming, but I pushed even more and blew through the last six cones, giving a whoop as I crossed the finish line. He was already done, his chest heaving and a big grin on his face. “Not bad,” he said.

  “You beat me.” I bent over, trying to catch my breath.

  He gave a snort of amusement. “If it bugs you, beat me next time.”

  “Oh, I will. Just give me a second.” I was pretty sure I’d never run that hard before in my life. And it rocked. He hadn’t taken it easy on me, and I loved that. And as soon as the ground stopped spinning, I’d kick his butt.

  Then I remembered to check my cones. All standing.

  But two of his were down. I shot him a look and he glanced at his course. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, and I felt a smug sense of satisfaction. He’d been concentrating so hard on beating me that he’d messed up. I had a feeling he didn’t do that much. “Drop and give me twenty, big guy.”

  “You still owe me a lap,” he grumbled, even as he dropped to the turf and started pumping. “Count ’em.”

  For a second, I forgot to count as I watched his arms flex with each push-up. His triceps were glistening with sweat, and the muscles were corded under his skin.

  He shot me a look. “Six,” he prompted.

  “Right. Sorry. I was gloating.” Then I realized what he’d said. “Nice try, Graham. Try two.”

  He chuck
led. “No mercy.” But there was a respect in his voice that made me feel good.

  “Like you’re going to let me skip my lap.”

  I was glad when he grunted his refusal. “Not a chance.”

  “Didn’t think so.” I sat back on my heels and counted him down, already working on a strategy for my second trip through the cones. Graham was pushing me, and I was challenging him, and it was awesome. He was intense and he was funny, and he took me seriously.

  He treated me like one of the guys, and it was the best feeling ever.

  None of that girl/guy stuff. Just sweat and sports and competition. Exactly how I wanted it.

  An hour and a half later, it was so dark I could barely see the ball, but I wasn’t about to call it.

  Neither was Graham.

  I’d never practiced with someone who was as intense as I was, and it made me try even harder. He’d even set up the drills so it didn’t matter that he was a better player. He was still working as hard as I was. I’d done more laps than him, but he’d had to do three. And we’d both done so many push-ups that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to lift my toothbrush by the time I got home.

  Even my legs were trembling, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Not with Graham treating me like a real athlete instead of a pretty ditz or something.

  I eyed him as I approached him for a little one-on-one, then faked to the left and split right, then tripped. It was too dark to see. I yelped as I landed on the ball, the leather smacking me like a gut punch.

  I groaned and rolled onto my back, letting my arms flop out to my sides. “Ow.”

  Graham bent over me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I struggled to sit up, not wanting to be a wimp, but I was so tired, all I wanted to do was lie there in the grass.

  “Want a hand?” He held out his hand, and for a minute I hesitated. Was he trying to make a move?

  “Come on, klutz. Off your butt.”

  I grinned and grabbed Graham’s outstretched hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He flipped the ball into his hands with his toe. “Call it a night?”

  I didn’t want to, but I knew it was too dark. And I was totally beat. I sighed. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

  “Aren’t you tired?” He scooped the other ball up and tossed me one.

  “Not at all,” I lied. “You?” I rested the ball on my hip and we walked back toward the equipment shed. Just us. In the dark. Alone. With a boy. I cleared my throat and peeked at him, but he was bouncing the ball off alternating knees with each step. I shook my head. Like I had to worry about anything with him. He was as single-minded as I was when it came to soccer.

  “Not tired,” Graham said. He still wasn’t looking at me. “You stay late much? I’ve never seen you out here before.”

  “Actually, this is my first time. Coach told me that she was considering bumping me up to varsity in two weeks, so I decided to stay late and do extra practice.”

  “Really?” He caught the ball and started tossing it from hand to hand as he walked. “Sweet.”

  I felt a swell of pride at his tone. He got it. “Yeah, I’d be stoked to make varsity. I’m going to practice every day ’til she picks.” Man, I would love to practice with Graham again. I’d never been pushed as hard as I’d been tonight, and he’d given me some great tips. A few more sessions with him, and I’d be better than Sara. Well, as good, at least.

  We neared the building, the small floodlight lighting up his face. The shadows made his cheekbones prominent and his jaw look really angular. Kind of strong. I suddenly felt intimidated and realized there was no way I’d ask him to practice again. He was on the varsity boys team. A million times better than me. No way was I going to be dumb enough to invite myself into his practice sessions. “So, well, thanks for tonight. It was…” Was what? Awesome? Hard as heck and the best night of my life? “…fun.” Yeah, Trisha the lame-o.

  “Yeah, it was good. It’s good to have some competition.” He caught the ball and gave me a thoughtful look. Not checking me out, not plotting, just normal. “You going to be out here again?”

  I eyed him, trying to figure out what he was asking. “I won’t get in your way.”

  He laughed softly. “I meant, do you want to practice again? It helps me to have someone to go against.”

  Oh, wow. He wanted to practice again? With me? I almost shouted my excitement, and then thought of how manic Sara got around guys. I didn’t want to be like that, didn’t want to make Graham suddenly start thinking of me as a girl, so I gave a casual shrug. “Yeah, that’d be all right.”

  He tugged open the door and held it for me. “Same time, then?”

  “Works for me.” I slipped past him, then tossed the ball in the corner.

  Graham added his to the pile, then we walked out. He locked the door behind us, and we headed toward the gym.

  We were about halfway to the gym when Graham spoke. “So, how come you’re not at Pop’s? I thought that’s where everyone went after school.”

  “Not everyone.” I thought of Sara and Beth there without me, and scowled.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The guys on the team head over there to check out the girls. I’d rather play soccer.”

  “Really?” I jerked my gaze to his face to see if he was making fun of me. He looked totally serious, and my heart soared. “That’s how I feel! My friends just go to hang out with the guys, and everyone acts stupid. I’d so much rather be out here.”

  Graham laughed again, a low sound that rolled through my bones. “They can’t be as dumb as my teammates are. It’s like they lose their brains around girls.”

  “What’s up with that?” It was such a relief to talk to someone who thought like I did. I reached the gym door first and I hauled it open.

  He reached over my head and grabbed the edge. “Who knows? I can’t imagine choosing a girl over sports.”

  “I know what you mean!” I ducked under his arm and caught another whiff of his scent. It was all guy, with an undercurrent of soap or something. I liked it. Not that I liked it…okay, fine, I sort of liked it. So what? That didn’t mean I was going to turn into Sara. I appreciated him as an athlete, and a guy who treated me like an equal. That was it. I took another quick inhale before I moved out of sniffing range. “I’d pick soccer over the scene at Pop’s any day.”

  “I hear you.” He let the door shut behind us. “So, I guess that means I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  I shoved my sweaty bangs off my face and grinned up at him. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m thinking I might go to Pop’s instead….”

  He laughed. “Yeah, right.” He jumped down the four steps leading to the boys’ locker room, then saluted me. “See ya around, Trisha.” Then he shoved open the door to the locker room and disappeared.

  I ran all the way down the hall, dancing with excitement. Not only did I have a practice partner, but he felt the same way as I did about our friends and the dating scene.

  Graham Fordham was just like me.

  Forget Pop’s. Forget dating. With him, I didn’t have to worry about any of that intimidating guy/girl stuff. I could even make fun of it and he didn’t think I was a freak. Plus, I was going to seriously improve my soccer if I kept practicing with him, and that was what really mattered.

  I was so going to call my dad tonight and tell him about my chance at varsity, and how I was putting in extra practice time.

  I slammed my hip into the locker room door and shoved it open, feeling truly happy for the first time in months.

  3

  Friday night, I found myself sitting between Beth and Sara at the football game, listening to them detail their night at Pop’s with Kirk and Ross.

  “So, then, Kirk goes up there, and he does karaoke to this Britney Spears song,” Sara said. “He was doing all her little dance moves and—” She dissolved into laughter.

  “He was actually a really good dancer,” Beth said. “But his falsetto was awfu
l! It was too funny! You totally missed out.”

  I managed a grin. It did sound like it had been fun. Kirk making a jerk of himself would always be a bonus. Maybe I should have gone. “Yeah, well, I was practicing and I met this—”

  Sara elbowed Beth. “It would have been more fun if you and Ross had gone up there. You should have asked him to sing with you.”

  Beth’s cheeks turned red. “No way! He was totally not going up there, and I wasn’t going to make an idiot of myself by asking him. You totally lie that he likes me. He barely even looked at me the whole night!”

  “Because he’s intimidated by your beauty, of course.” Sara smirked at me. “Tell her, Trisha. Tell her that Ross likes her, but he’s too shy and she’s going to have to make the first move.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I have no idea if Ross likes you.”

  “See? He doesn’t.” Beth folded her arms over her chest and stuck out her jaw. “Don’t get me all excited like that, Sara, or I swear I’ll tell Kirk that you wrote his name all over the inside of your notebook.”

  Sara paled and jerked a sharp glance in my direction. As if I didn’t already know! “Kirk was checking the door for you all night,” she said, almost managing to sound like she didn’t care. “Beth, how many times did he ask if Trisha was coming?”

  “Like, a zillion,” Beth said. “He was sitting next to the seat we were saving for you and he wouldn’t let anyone sit there.”

  The thought of Kirk waiting for me ended all regret I had at missing out. “What’s his problem? Why won’t he stop bugging me?”

  “Because he likes you, duh,” Sara said. “What’s your problem? Why won’t you give him a chance?”

  “Totally.” Beth sighed and propped her feet up on the empty bleacher in front of us. “You’re so lucky. Guys adore you, and you don’t even appreciate it.”

  “Yeah,” Sara sighed. “If I had half your chest, my life would be so much better.”

  I snorted. “Get real. The only reason Kirk likes me is because I don’t like him.”