I set my keys down on the counter after coming home from tutoring. Maddox was coming along quite nicely in biology. I couldn't take all the credit, of course, but I'd like to think I was at least somewhat instrumental in his recent progress.
I had initially wondered if he was making up the need for tutoring, but I dismissed the thought half a second later. For one, he hadn't known I would be his tutor, and two, he was far too sweet and genuine to do that. Then I felt bad for even considering the idea.
Shrugging off my backpack on the hardwood floor caused a twinge in my shoulder. I winced as I rolled out my arm. Coach was running us ragged at practice this week in preparation for our biggest tournament of the season in a couple of weeks. I'd landed awkwardly after Felicity hit me with a mistimed tackle during a scrimmage.
It wasn't on purpose, but Felicity had been more aggressive than usual this week. Then again, I couldn't blame her—she thought this tournament was her last chance to prove her worth to the UCLA scouts before they changed their mind and went with someone else. I hated to admit it, but she might have been right, which was why she was working so hard. I could only hope her hard work paid off... and that she wouldn't cause me bodily harm before them.
Thankfully, Coach Walker was giving us two days off since we didn't have any games this weekend, which was fantastic timing considering half of the team had homecoming this weekend and wouldn't be in any shape to play on Sunday anyway.
As I went to pick up my backpack and head upstairs, the doorbell rang. I was tempted to not answer, but since I was the only one home, I kind of had to.
Kieran was on the doorstep. I blinked in surprise, taking in his workout attire and the soccer ball in his hands. "Hi. Are you looking for Finn? I think he's heading straight from the office to practice."
"Actually, I was looking for you." He held up the ball. "Do you want to play?"
I couldn't remember the last time I'd scrimmaged with Kieran or Finn. It had to have been back in middle school, before the two of them became close friends with the rest of the guys on their team and practiced exclusively with them.
I raised an eyebrow. "You want me to 1-v-1 you? Are you sure you're in a losing mood?" That was utter bullshit—I was good, but not that good. Certainly not at the same level as Kieran, who was being heralded as the most promising young international at the moment. I was sure the calls from Real Madrid or Barcelona or another big club were coming any day now.
He grinned. "I like your confidence. Let's see you put your money where your mouth is."
Well, it wasn't like I had any other plans this afternoon. "I hope you're ready to get your ass kicked."
Minutes later, after I'd changed into a tank top and athletic shorts, we were walking to the park. I held a water bottle in one hand and my cleats in the other. One of the laces on my sneakers was untied, dragging against the sidewalk with every step, but I was too lazy to stop and tie it.
The scenery in my neighborhood on the way to the park could have been on a postcard. A crisp fall breeze ruffled the treetops, where the leaves were just beginning to turn red and golden brown. Summer was finally disappearing, and fall was in full swing. I sighed in contentment.
Kieran glanced over at me, amused. "You seem very chipper for someone who's about to suffer an embarrassing defeat."
"To be fair, you're the upcoming international superstar. It'll only be embarrassing if you lose to me. Which will be happening, by the way, so I hope you have tissues ready."
"No chance," he said. "But if you're nice enough, maybe I'll let you score a point or two."
I snorted. "We'll see about that." We had just started to walk through the parking lot next to the field before an unpleasant thought crossed my mind. "Wait, is the devil incarnate going to be here?"
Kieran looked at me in confusion before realizing who I was referring to. He shook his head. "No. Absolutely not."
"Then what are we doing? Isn't the point still to show Marissa that we're 'dating'?"
His frown deepened. "That hadn't even crossed my mind. Am I not allowed to ask you to hang out without ulterior motives?"
"I mean, wasn't that how this whole thing started?" I half-joked, trying to revive the lighthearted banter of our conversation. "Both of us had ulterior motives that led to this... whatever this is?"
Kieran was silent for a while. By now, we were close enough to see the flakes of rust on one of the formerly-white goalposts. Tattered nets hung from both of them, the frayed strings revealing soccer-ball-shaped holes from years of use. I was fairly sure I was responsible for at least one of those, but the public park association didn't need to know about that.
I sat on the yellowing grass and tugged my sneakers off, still waiting for Kieran to respond. He slowly followed suit and settled on the ground beside me. Some kind of internal conflict was clearly going on in his head, but he finally sighed. "Look, I did actually want to talk to you about something."
This sounded serious. I paused in the middle of lacing up my cleats and turned to look at him. "Okay, what is it?"
He avoided my gaze, keeping his eyes trained on the oh-so-difficult task of putting on his white cleats. There was a moment of hesitation, and then he shook his head. "Never mind. Let's just play ball." He stood up and brushed himself off.
I hastily finished tying my shoes and got to my feet as well. "No, what were you going to say?"
"It's not important," he said, kicking the ball up in the air and beginning to juggle it. His usual smile appeared back on his face, though it felt slightly off. "Are you ready to lose?"
An idea sparked to life in my mind. "Let's make things more interesting. First one to hit the crossbar five times wins. If I win, you have to tell me what you were going to say. If you win, you can keep your secrets."
Kieran trapped the ball neatly beneath his foot and turned to face me. A challenge glimmered in his eyes. "Fine. But only because I'm confident you won't win."
"I wouldn't bet on that if I were you," I said. Without warning, I kicked the ball out from under his foot and sprinted toward the goal. I heard him shout in protest, but I'd already fired off a perfect shot with my left foot by the time he caught up. There was a dull thunk as the ball collided with the crossbar.
I had no time to celebrate my victory—both of us were sprinting for the rebound. Kieran barely beat me, but I wedged myself between the ball and the goal. He narrowed his eyes as he considered his options. "That was dirty."
I grinned. "Game on."
He darted to the left, taking the ball with him. I reached out a foot to stop him and missed completely as he suddenly pulled the ball onto his other foot and pivoted away. I swore under my breath and gave chase.
Kieran's shot landed directly against the crossbar, evening the score. I dashed forward and lifted a foot to catch the rebound. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Kieran rushing at me. He darted a foot out to poke the ball away, and I turned instinctively to shield it with my body.
He slammed into my back, trying to push me off balance, but I held firm. So he wanted to get physical? Two could play at that game. I crooked my elbow and jabbed it at his stomach. He grunted but didn't move. Either he was wearing a steel undershirt, or those were some serious abs.
Okay, time for a different strategy. Kieran shoved at me again, getting impatient, and I let myself fall forward slightly. Right as he reached out to nick the ball away, I rolled it to my left side and whirled around him, so close that my ponytail whipped across his face.
I hated shooting with my right foot, but I didn't have time to set up a shot with my left. I drove through the ball with the laces of my right cleat. It shot up and just grazed the top of the crossbar, landing several yards behind the goal.
"That does not count," Kieran protested.
"It touched the crossbar, didn't it? It counts."
He rolled his eyes and jogged toward the ball. With one smooth pass, he sent it over the goal and right back to my feet. I kept one foot on the ball and waited until he stepped in front of me, scowling. "That was your last point."
I raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I think I'm about to score another."
Kieran let out a war cry and charged at me, kamikaze style. We kept up the back and forth, each gaining possession and losing it a moment later. He pulled out moves that should have been impossible but looked effortless from him. There was one where he flicked the ball up to his knee and then around me with his foot—at that point, I was convinced there were magnets inside the ball and his shoes, because no way in hell could that be done without outside help. Even though I got him back for each, I was forced to pull out every bit of defensive skill I had.
Finally, we were tied at 4-4, having fought a hard-pressed battle to win each painstaking point. Both of us were sweaty and panting with exhaustion but refused to admit defeat. It wasn't even about the prize anymore—it was both of our winning mentalities unable to stand the idea of losing.
The ball was at my feet, but Kieran was between me and the goal. I narrowed my eyes in concentration and weighed my options. He wouldn't fall for any of the usual tricks, so I would have to pull off something spectacular if I wanted to get around him.
Well, there was one move I'd been practicing, but I had never tried it against an actual opponent before. I supposed now was as good a time as any to try it. After all, if it could fool one of the world's most promising prospective players, it would be good against anyone, right?
I dribbled the ball forward, heading straight for Kieran. Just before we collided, I pushed the ball to the outside of my left foot. As expected, he stepped in the same direction to cut off my approach. I feinted a kick to the left before executing a perfect Cruyff turn and whirling back the other way.
Kieran hadn't been fooled, especially because I had already pulled that move on him earlier. Now came the new part. Without stopping my spin, I rolled the ball in an L-shape across and then past the right side of my body, changing directions yet again. Kieran was caught entirely off-balance, and I was left facing an open goal.
I whooped in celebration as I watched the ball collide with the crossbar for my fifth shot of the day. Kieran brushed himself off as he got to his feet, having landed on his hands after my juke. A grudging smile of admiration tugged at his lips. "Not bad, Abby. Not bad."
I spread my arms wide. "Bow down to your new soccer overlord." He rolled his eyes, and I grinned. "I'm kidding. Although I do believe you owe me some answers."
The smile slid off his face at the reminder. He blew out a breath, still stalling. "Fine. I'll tell you on the walk back. But you might not like what I have to say."
Based on his serious attitude earlier, I had already figured it wouldn't be good news. There was a sneaking suspicion in my mind about what was going on, but I needed him to confirm it.
Minutes later, the two of us had swapped our cleats for sneakers and were retracing our steps back to my house. The mood was somber, a stark contrast from earlier on our walk to the park, and I swore the temperature had dropped a few degrees. Or maybe that was my imagination.
"So?" I prompted, as we reached the sidewalk. "Let's hear it."
"I think we should break up after the gala."
Straight to the point, then. Though I'd been expecting him to say it, I hadn't anticipated the sharp sting that accompanied his words. I nodded slowly. "Okay. Any particular reason?"
He sighed. "I'm just... tired of Marissa being at the center of everything I do. Earlier today, you asked why we were hanging out when she wasn't around to see it, and I realized that I had been thinking that way for a long time."
I cursed myself for asking that question. I'd meant it as a joke, but Kieran had clearly taken it to heart. Then again, it sounded like he had been sitting on these thoughts for a while.
"This whole fake relationship started because I wanted to show her that I was doing better and moving on, but it was still all about her. I can't move on if everything I do still makes me think of her, and..." that includes all of our time together. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air.
Swallowing hard, I asked the question that had been on my mind since this whole charade started, knowing it would eventually come to an end. "So what happens after? I mean, we can still be friends, right?" Even as I said it, I knew I didn't want that either. I couldn't stand the thought of going back to acquaintances, or, even worse, just my brother's best friend. Somewhere along the way, we'd become close, and I selfishly realized I didn't want to lose that.
When he didn't immediately answer, I knew that more than our staged relationship was ending. His brown eyes met mine, his own internal conflict raging in their dark depths. "I... I don't know. I want to, but maybe it's better to have a clean break. At least for a while."
A mixture of disappointment, confusion, and hurt welled up inside me, but I refused to let those emotions bubble to the surface. I had suspected that our time as a fake couple was coming to an end; I just hadn't expected it to affect our friendship.
I forced a nonchalant shrug. "If that's what you want, then sure."
His eyes searched mine for confirmation. I looked away. I didn't want him to see the truth, that this wasn't at all what I wanted. But I'd told him from the very beginning that the end of this charade was his decision, and he was making it now.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, then. After the gala, we split up."
"Another public spectacle, like lunch that first day?" I joked half-heartedly. "Or do we just start ignoring each other and let the word spread by itself?"
Kieran winced. We were in view of my house now, our afternoon together drawing to a close. "We can figure that out later. And I don't want to ruin the gala. Can we forget this conversation happened, just for the weekend?"
Truth be told, I had been looking forward to the gala. And if that was the last time we hung out like this, well, what was a few more hours of pretending? I gave a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Of course. Consider it forgotten." For now, at least.
We parted ways in front of my house with an awkward goodbye. I watched as Kieran got in his car and drove off, wondering if everything was about to change.
✰ ✰ ✰
AN: in honor of the Copa America final tomorrow and the Euros on Sunday, here is the fastest update I've had in approx 6 months lol