Elizabeth took a seat in the bleachers to prepare for her game. She set her boots next to her while she pulled on her socks and slipped her shin guards underneath. As she folded the top of each sock over, she felt the bench bow a little as someone dropped down beside her. She turned her head and was unsurprised to see Will Darcy sitting there. He’d been showing up everywhere the last two weeks—meeting her at the subway to walk her to interviews, showing up at her apartment with coffee, even taking her to the movies once. On moving day, she’d thought he was asking her to date him and it felt a little like they were, but he hadn’t ever said the word and he hadn’t so much as tried to hold her hand. She was a little disappointed, to be honest.
Will was studying something written on a piece of paper. He scratched his head and said, without preamble, “Charlotte tells me I am required to insult you. I thought she was joking, but she did provide a rather complete list of topics.” He looked up at her. “Boy bands?”
Elizabeth grunted. “If I want to listen to falsetto, The Vienna Boys Choir is the way I go. They’re amazing. Lip synching, crotch-grabbing, drug-using twelve-year-old boys with bad haircuts and obviously headed for rehab don’t appeal.” She pulled on one boot and tied the laces.
He leaned forward again. “What do you listen to?”
“Depends on the playlist.”
“Okay,” he said, lowering the page, “what’s in the first spot on your workout playlist?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Just wondering. Vienna Boys Choir? Don Ho?”
She frowned and whipped out her phone, holding it out to him. “And yours,” she told him, holding out her hand.
The first song on her list was Avery Watts’ “A Cut Above the Rest.” Will barked out a laugh, and Elizabeth glanced down at his phone. He lifted his eyebrows when he saw her reaction. It was the first song in his playlist, too.
She held out his phone with a smile. “I see you’re just as competitive as I am.”
He handed her phone back then slid his own into his pocket. He picked up the list and read the next item. “People who name their kids weird things.”
“Dillweed,” she answered immediately. “That’s all I have to say about that.” She set her foot down.
He hmphed, pressed his lips together. He glanced up as she yanked the laces taut on her second boot. “Children at weddings?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Charlotte got that wrong. I think every wedding should have kids. The bride and groom should be broken in from day one.” She set her other foot down.
“You’ve got some pretty decided opinions.” He scanned the writing. “Halogen headlights?”
“Migraines.” She pulled her sweatshirt off.
“You get migraines?” He looked up at her.
“Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate.
“Mmm,” he hummed, returning to the list. “Men who take up two seats on the train because they sit with their legs, um, spread.” He met her long-suffering gaze with a roguish grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s got so much down there that it requires its own seat. If he did, he wouldn’t be riding the train.”
That earned another snort of laughter. “Is this where I should mention I never take public transit?”
She laughed in return. “No. That’s way too much information when you’re in soccer shorts.”
He shook his head. “Chicken.”
Elizabeth tilted her head as if in thought. “You know, I’m fairly sure I’m not.”
“Speaking of chicken—cooking?” he asked.
She put her feet down and her head in her hands in mock dismay. “I mean, it’s just chemistry. Why can’t I get it?”
“You seem more despondent than angry.”
She responded with a shrug and resumed her preparations. “Charlotte’s fault. She should have given you a better list.”
Will folded the piece of paper up and stuck it in his bag.
“Charlotte press you into service for co-ed?”
He nodded.
She began to stretch, rolling her shoulders back. “The woman is insatiable. She plays, like, four nights a week.”
Will pulled on a sweatshirt. “Are you staying after your game to watch?” he asked her.
I didn’t know you’d be here. “Wasn’t going to, but if you can tolerate the stink, we could get a sandwich after.”
Will checked his watch. “Did you eat before?”
“No, I got caught up with work and forgot.” Don’t lecture me, Will.
His forehead pinched, and she waited. “You shouldn’t play on an empty stomach.”
And there it is. “Too late now,” she explained. “If I eat, I’ll get sick when I play.”
He shook his head in false consternation. “Careful, or I’ll have to call Maddy.”
She chuffed at him. “Them’s fightin’ words, civilian.” She stood, gave him a wink, and walked down to the field to stretch.
Will watched appreciatively as Elizabeth bent at the waist to do toe touches, raised her rear in the air to grab her ankles, folded first one long leg up against her chest and held it, then the other. Then she pulled her heel up to her bottom, first the left, then the right. When she started doing hip swings, he had to look away. After a few deep breaths, he composed himself enough to return his gaze to the field, where she skipped from one goal to the other, knees high, then strapped on a knee brace and ran a few gentle laps.
When the players lined up, Elizabeth was positioned on the front line, and he leaned forward in anticipation. The other team had kickoff and passed the ball to their right wing, who ran a few steps forward near the wall before losing it to Charlotte.
As soon as Charlotte had dispossessed the forward, Elizabeth started her run and turned back to meet the pass floating in. She trapped the ball at the top of her chest and forced it down to her feet. Then she made one fluid turn to her right dragging the ball with her, fooling a defender into committing to that side before she stepped on the ball and dragged it back to the left. She took a step forward, taking the defender completely out of the play, and sped down the field with three other players trying to overtake her.
The keeper rushed out to cut off the angle, going into a slide directly in front of Elizabeth, who waited until the woman was halfway to the ground before she lifted the ball on the top of her foot, gave it a little push between the keeper’s two flailing legs, deftly stepped around the prone figure, and tapped the ball into the back of the net.
There was no scoring celebration from Elizabeth, though Charlotte was making all kinds of noise, as were their teammates. Elizabeth herself just jogged back up to the center line to restart play. Workmanlike, he thought. Charlotte jogged over to exchange a high five, but that was all Elizabeth would do.
The other team restarted, passing the ball back to their midfielder this time, and Elizabeth jogged up to her, stripping the ball away as the woman tried to feint to her right. Elizabeth moved the ball to the left, then right, back to the center of the field, standing with her foot on the ball and her back to the goal, holding off the defender directly behind her while Charlotte began a run down one wing and another woman whose jersey read “Patti” on the back made the run on the other.
Elizabeth waited, waited, and then, just as help was arriving and Will thought she had waited too long, she spun the ball back onto the top of her foot, kicked it straight up about five inches, and as the ball descended, kicked it up and to the right. The ball sailed above the head of the defender, flying over the field, finally falling from the sky at the top of the box. Charlotte was there to head it over the keeper’s outstretched fingers, and suddenly, it was 2-0.
This time, Elizabeth slapped Charlotte’s hand as she returned to mid-field and gave her a little smile.
And so it went. In short order, Elizabeth had scored a hat trick and moved from her forward position back to defense. Charlotte took over the center, and one of the defenders moved up to t
he wing. The game played out more evenly then, but Elizabeth’s deft handling of the ball at her feet kept the other team from most of their attempts on goal. By halftime, she was subbing herself out on a rotating basis, only subbing back in when it appeared the other team might mount a comeback. The final score was 6-3, and everyone seemed satisfied.
She can’t really play her best, Will thought as he stood to get ready for his own match. She’s too good for this division.
“Charlotte,” he called, walking to the player’s benches, “when do we start?”
Charlotte waved him onto the field, “You can warm up now if you like.” Her phone rang, and he watched her make a face. It’s never a good thing to get a call right before game time. He watched as she ended the call and then grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. Elizabeth listened but shook her head. He walked over.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Two of the girls just called off,” Charlotte said, annoyed. “Now we don’t have enough women. We need another woman to play, or we’ll have to forfeit. Please, Lizzy?”
Will turned to Elizabeth. “You should play. It didn’t seem like you got much of a workout from the last game.”
She turned a cold stare on him, the message clear: Stay out of it.
“I don’t like to play co-ed,” Elizabeth said, frowning. “Nearly all the guys are nice, but there’s always one who feels like he needs to mark his territory, you know?”
Charlotte hopped up and down a little. “Please, Lizzy? You can play defense—we just need a body. A female body.”
Elizabeth frowned and turned to Will. “List, please.”
Will stepped into the players’ area to comply while Elizabeth took a pen from her own bag and then wrote something on the paper. Will took it back when she offered it and read aloud, “When Charlotte begs me to play co-ed.”
Charlotte just clasped her hands together and begged. “Pleeease?”
“Fine,” Elizabeth said, giving in, and then, warningly, “One-time deal.”
Charlotte squealed and hugged her before running off to register Lizzy as a guest player.
Will pulled an orange from his bag and tossed it to her. “Eat,” he ordered.
Elizabeth looked down at the orange and then up at him. “Do you always carry fruit around with you?” she asked, amused.
“Nature’s MRE, baby,” he joked, before returning to his warm-up.
“You’re cute, Will,” he heard her say behind him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re cute.”
This game was much faster than the first. Having Elizabeth in the backfield allowed Charlotte and Will to play farther up than they might otherwise, and her passes to them were, for the most part, precise. She did aim a few sharp shots at Charlotte’s midsection and one at her head, but settled down after a bit and began to play in earnest.
Will couldn’t help but admire her skill, more keenly on display here than in the first game. Elizabeth had no problem maintaining possession of the ball even from the men, though she did not try to hold the ball as long nor did she ever stand in place. She ran faster in this game, he observed, but stamina and skill were her strengths, not speed. A thick man a little older and a lot shorter than Will was always on her, sticking his foot in after she’d already released a pass or frustrated when she maneuvered around him. There’s the one.
“Martin!” His captain called after the fourth penalty and hooked his thumb back towards their own goal. Will was relieved when the man moved back to play defense on his side and was replaced with a petite Latina woman, an excellent player who challenged Elizabeth without fouling her.
Just before halftime, Elizabeth carried the ball up past midfield, looking to pass, and in what Will recognized as an almost surreal sequence, every player in front of her shifted almost simultaneously to the far right in anticipation, even the goalie. As he was jockeying for position in the box, he glanced her way in time to see her shake her head just a bit and slam the ball into the back of the goal on the wide-open left side. He almost laughed, but squelched it when the keeper looked around, confused as to how the ball had wound up in the net. Instead Will just grinned at her as he trotted back to the middle of the field and applauded, keeping his hands close to his chest so only she would see. She gave him a tiny shrug as if to say what did they expect?
After the half, Elizabeth moved up the field a bit with the ball, Charlotte falling back to cover her position. She didn’t take any more shots, but she did send in several excellent passes and Will was able to score twice. Finally, near the end of the game, Will motioned that she should make one more play at goal. Elizabeth nodded, sent off a crisp pass to Will, and made her run.
Will sent a perfect slicing pass back into the box, but just as Elizabeth cut in from the wing to take her shot, Martin threw himself into an illegal slide tackle, completely missing the ball but taking both of Elizabeth’s feet from beneath her at once. Will could only watch as Elizabeth pitched forward and hurtled headfirst into the wall. It gave a bit, as it was designed to do, but the thud and shake of the collision was sickening.
There was a second of shocked silence before an eruption of movement. Will dropped to one knee next to Elizabeth, who remained face down on the turf, and Charlotte flew up a moment later. Several of the men from his own team dragged Martin off the field as the referee booked him and held up a red card. Will badly wanted a go at him, but it would have to wait. He bent down next to Elizabeth’s ear and softly called her name. She started to turn over, but Will put his hand on her back.
“Easy,” he said, concerned. “Are you sure your neck and back are all right?” He couldn’t help thinking the worst after witnessing the impact. He’d immediately had visions of a backboard and neck brace.
Elizabeth brought her hand up slowly, placed her palm to the ground, and pushed, turning over onto her back. She blinked up at the lights. Will thought her lips might be forming the word “sir” but she made no sound, so he couldn’t be sure. Then she squinted directly into his face.
“Charlotte?” she called. Her tone was caustic. Will was relieved to hear it.
Charlotte grimaced. “Yes?”
Elizabeth glared at her. “Ow,” she said loudly.
Charlotte was suitably apologetic. “Oh Lizzy, I’m so sorry. I promise, no more co-ed.”
Elizabeth held out her arms. “Help me up, please.”
“Go slow, Elizabeth,” Will said quietly. He wasn’t sure she should be getting up at all. He put a hand behind her shoulders and carefully supported her as Charlotte pulled her into a sitting position.
She put her hand to her lower back. “That’s going to hurt tomorrow,” she said unhappily.
“I imagine it hurts now,” said Will drily. “How’s your head?”
“Fine.”
Both Charlotte and Will gave her skeptical looks.
“As you are both aware,” Elizabeth grunted, “it’s extraordinarily hard.” She held out her arms again and they stood, helping her to her feet.
The referee tapped Charlotte’s shoulder. “You have five minutes and a penalty kick left if you want them.”
“No,” Charlotte said immediately, “we’re done here.”
The ref nodded and called the game.
A short, slender man trotted up to them. “How ‘ya doing, #9?” he asked genially, referring to the number on Elizabeth’s jersey.
“How do you think she’s doing?” Will shot back angrily.
The man held up his hands, palms out. “Just wanted to tell you we escorted Martin to his car, and he won’t be playing co-ed anymore— not with us, at least.”
“I’ll live,” Elizabeth said, “but he better not cross my path again, or I’ll kick his ass.”
The man grinned. “Atta girl,” he said approvingly. “Night.” He jogged back to his team’s bench.
Elizabeth glowered after him. “‘Girl,’” she huffed, then turned towards Will, her movements tentative. “I’m going to need that list again.”<
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Chapter Twelve
Will, Charlotte, and Elizabeth gradually made their way to the parking lot. Elizabeth took a few steps towards her car and reached carefully into her bag for her keys.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Will asked, incredulous.
“Getting my car keys so I can go home,” she replied, enunciating each word as though he had a hearing problem. “Well, Jane’s car keys.”
“You’re not driving yourself home,” he said firmly.
“That’s not a good idea, Lizzy,” Charlotte chimed in.
“What were you expecting?” Elizabeth asked, irritated. She removed her hand without the keys.
“You should let me drive you to the ER, actually,” Charlotte said. “Jane’s working tonight. She can meet us.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I am not going to sit in the ER for six hours so they can tell me to use a heating pad on my back when I could be at home with a heating pad on my back. And Jane does not need to know about this. You’ve seen her in nursing mode, Char. It’s not pretty.”
While her attention was on Charlotte, Will reached into Elizabeth’s bag and plucked out her keys. He tucked them into his pocket.
“Hey, give me those,” Elizabeth cried angrily. “Seriously, you two, I’ll go see the doctor in the morning if you’re that concerned about it.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Tonight,” she said firmly. “I can call my dad. He’s at a party, but he’ll probably insist on an MRI to be safe, so we should meet him at the hospital.”
“For crying out loud, Char,” Elizabeth huffed, “don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine.”
Will cut Elizabeth off. “Why would he insist on an MRI?” he asked worriedly.
Charlotte met her friend’s glare with one of her own. She crossed her arms across her chest and said, “Because Elizabeth just recovered from a concussion a few months ago. Secondary concussions can be serious, Lizzy. Even I know that.”
“Almost four months ago, Char. I do not have another concussion. I know what one feels like, and I don’t feel like that now.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I’m fine.”
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