by Melody Anne
Lainey let her teammate panic for a few more seconds before letting out a wry chuckle. “I’m kidding. Revenge for not doing as you’re told.”
“Your capacity for deadpan is impressive,” Jaime huffed, dramatically falling back onto the couch. “But it’s cruel to make fun of a sick person. Almost as cruel as making me drink that shit.”
Lainey sniffed the drink Jaime was pointing at. It really was disgusting. She dropped her head back over the top of the couch. “You’re right. This will never taste good, no matter how hard I try to convince you. And a relationship between a man like Gabe and a woman like me will never work, no matter how rose-colored our glasses are.”
Her maudlin remark earned her a soft punch to the shoulder. “Geez, that wasn’t an allegory. I just meant that this juice sucks. But I’m glad the topic of conversation is moving on to the good stuff. Why are you so convinced you and Gabe couldn’t work?”
“You mean besides the fact he betrayed me and humiliated me in public?”
“I read the article. Every quote from him was defending you and praising your abilities. It’s just that smarmy reporter who seems to think you’re a cursed woman. Well, the reporter and Gabe’s mom.” Jaime leaned over, picked up the thermometer, and stuck it back in her mouth.
The fact that Gabe was quoted in the paper as calling her the “brightest light in American soccer” made her heart skip a beat, but it wasn’t enough to erase the fact his family, and now half of Seattle, believed she was a cursed woman. She wasn’t some background character in the Gabe Havelak show. She was Lainey-Freaking-Lukas, World Cup champion and captain of the Seattle Falcons, and she had worked just as hard as he did. But as long as she was Gabe’s girlfriend, that was all the media would ever care about.
“It’s just not fair. We have every right to practice at Chester Stadium.”
Jaime nodded.
“Gabe’s the one who tried to cheat his way out of the agreement, and yet I’m the one getting slayed by the media.” Lainey knew it came with the territory, but the negative energy put out by the press was getting old.
Jaime nodded again.
“I need to just stop thinking about him. Or maybe get revenge? I’ve never ended a relationship before that I actually cared about. What do you think?”
Jaime nodded once more.
Lainey sighed and yanked the thermometer out of her teammate’s mouth.
“Everyone makes mistakes in relationships,” Jaime piped up finally. “The question is whether his was unforgivable.”
“It doesn’t matter. We don’t have anything in common.”
“Did you forget the fact that you both are professional soccer players? No, of course not. Nothing in common.” Jaime shifted until her legs were resting on Lainey’s lap.
“We’re rivals, and that’s all we’ll ever be. It was stupid to think we could be more.”
“You and I were once rivals. I never thought we’d get along, and look at us now. Hanging out like besties.”
That made Lainey smile, even as she knocked away Jaime’s hand, which was teasingly petting Lainey’s arm. “After that slide tackle in the World Cup semifinal, I never thought I’d want to do anything but punch you in the face.”
“Yeah, I got you good,” Jaime said with all the pathetic energy she could muster while fighting a fever of 102.
“Too bad it wasn’t enough to earn your team any goals in that match. But then again, fourth place isn’t so bad. It’s kind of like a consolation prize.”
Jaime scowled. “Taking out your frustration on innocent people is a clear sign of a broken heart.”
“I’m not brokenhearted.” Lie. Her heart ached more than she ever knew possible. It was a pain that radiated everywhere. Her chest felt heavy, like it had been bruised. Her fingertips prickled with the memory of his skin.
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Alyssa showed up with a tub of ice cream and a stack of DVDs.
“You’re just in time to hear about Lainey’s heartbreak,” Jaime said.
“Oh, sweetie, let it all out,” Alyssa said, dropping her items on the table and rushing to join them on the already crowded couch.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I don’t get why the whole curse thing is a problem anyway. According to what Gabe’s mom said, the curse only activates if he falls in love with you, right? If he isn’t in love with you, then no big deal. But if it’s activated, that means he loves you. Don’t you get it? If he is in love with you, then the curse is irrelevant because love conquers all,” Alyssa said wistfully.
Lainey rubbed her temples. “So you’re saying if he doesn’t love me, the curse doesn’t matter. But if he does, the curse still doesn’t matter? Is this supposed to be a riddle?”
“Exactly,” Alyssa said, as though that one word explained it all.
“What if it turns out the curse does matter? What if love isn’t enough? Hell, what if I’m not cut out for love?” After the weekend she’d been having, Lainey was ready to slink back into that cold, robotic person she used to be. The person who could put all emotions aside in pursuit of a singular goal. The person who’d never had a taste of love.
“That’s ridiculous. Everyone deserves love,” Jaime said with surprising earnestness. “Everyone wants to be swept off their feet by the person who promises to cherish and support them forever.”
“Says the woman who claims to never go on a second date. Have you ever been in love?” Alyssa teased.
Jaime croaked, making a sound that Lainey assumed was intended to be laughter. “I’ve yet to meet a guy who can keep up with me. Nothing wrong with high standards,” Jaime added, picking idly at the fluff on her blanket.
“What about you, Alyssa?” Lainey wondered, realizing she knew so little about her teammates’ lives.
Alyssa cast her eyes downward, clearly not liking the attention on her own past. “Once, maybe. I don’t know. It didn’t work out. But we’re talking about you. What are you going to do about Gabe?”
Until yesterday, Lainey couldn’t imagine a better guy for her than Gabe. “Breaking up was inevitable. We only agreed to date each other for now. The plan was always to go our separate ways once the season started. We’re just ending things a little earlier than we agreed.”
“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. If you love someone, there’s no reason not to try for more,” Jaime said.
“I thought you were against me having a relationship with Gabe? Yesterday you said he’d break my heart,” Lainey pointed out.
“And I was right, of course. You are brokenhearted. But Alyssa’s right, too. The curse only matters if he’s in love with you, and that changes the game completely. I thought you and Gabe were just fooling around. I didn’t realize you were both in deep.”
“Who says I’m in deep?” Lainey pouted.
“Says you, or you wouldn’t be sitting on my couch eyeing that bucket of ice cream like it’s the most powerful elixir in the world.”
“I don’t get it. Half the women on our team are married. Heck, most of them even have kids. Why not us?” Alyssa asked glumly, slinking into the couch.
“Love and relationships require sacrifice. I don’t know about you two, but I know I can’t commit to someone who doesn’t love me.”
“Yeah, but how do you know Gabe doesn’t love you?” Jaime asked.
“You’re really fixed on that question, aren’t you?” Lainey said.
“Yes, I am. And I’m sick, so you have to be nice and answer it.”
Lainey rolled her eyes while Alyssa laughed. “Fine. I know because he’s the one who suggested we only see each other temporarily. Gabe and I only got together because our chemistry got the better of us.” Lainey paused to give her friends a chance to laugh at her awkwardness. “He said I should give him time to help me loosen up and have some fun before the season started.”
“How did he convince you to agree to that?” Alyssa asked.
“He said
loosening up would help me be a better captain, so I agreed to give in to my lust.” She sighed. “Plus, I wanted to be with him. He made me laugh. He made me feel sexy. But the man is incapable of a long-term relationship. You know his reputation. He’s had every chance in the world to tell me if he wants something more, but he hasn’t.”
“Are you sure you’re not brokenhearted? Because I brought the perfect romantic comedy from my DVD collection for wallowing in misery,” Alyssa insisted.
“I don’t want to wallow.”
“Then what do you want to do? I need some entertainment here,” Jaime bemoaned.
For a moment, her reckless heart protested, reminding her that her friends might be right. Maybe Gabe did love her. But that train of thought would only lead to more heartache. Instead, Lainey let instinct take over. She took a breath and sharpened her mind, homing in on the one thing that always gave her clarity. “I want to win. I want to take him down in the Battle of the Sexes and show him he never should’ve messed with me.”
“Then we need to step up our game,” Jaime added sagely. “This curse stuff is messing with your head.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I think it’s only fair we mess with his a little, too.”
Lainey felt her lips curve into a smile, despite herself. Even sick as a dog, Jaime was proving why she was a great cocaptain.
GABE CAREFULLY TUGGED THE laces on his cleats while humming a Billy Joel song. If anyone ever asked him what the tune was, he’d probably lie and say it was Metallica, but “Only the Good Die Young” was his dad’s favorite song, and it always brought him good luck.
“Yo, I’m out of deodorant. Can I borrow yours?” Johnny asked, interrupting his concentration. Gabe didn’t know why the kid even bothered asking, considering he was already rummaging through his bag.
“Not a chance.” Gabe swiped the Old Spice out of Johnny’s hand, ignoring his protests. He looked down at his cleats and swore under his breath, realizing he’d forgotten where he left off. He unlaced his boots and started the entire process again. It was only a preseason game, but the vibe in the air was off, and this was not the time to deviate from his pregame rituals.
Even as he relaced his boots, something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He scanned the room to see if anyone else felt it. Joe was doing his goofy, exaggerated side lunges, as usual. Zazu was pumping himself up by doing push-ups. Johnny was preening and fixing his hair in the small mirror at the back of his cubby. Aiden kissed the photo of his fiancée while standing in his boxers.
Gabe quickly scrolled through his routine in his head. He’d put on his lucky underwear this morning. His rabbit’s foot had spent the night inside his right cleat. He’d eaten Mama’s cabbage rolls for dinner. What was he missing?
“Game on, man. Time to grab your jersey. And try to cheer up a little. Your mood is sapping everyone’s energy,” Joe said, slapping him on the shoulder.
Shit. It was him causing the bad juju. His pathetic “my girlfriend just left me and took my balls with her” attitude was sucking all the oxygen from the room. His teammates looked to him for leadership, and instead of providing it, he was sitting around pining for a woman who hadn’t answered his calls the last three days.
He’d been so worried about the stupid curse ending his career that he forgot the only thing giving him a reason to play anymore was Lainey. She was the spark that had reignited his passion. He needed to knock it off with the moping. As long as he was captain of this team, he needed to act like it.
“All right, let’s go kick some Denver ass,” the coach roared, gesturing to the players to head to the field. Gabe grabbed the jersey that was hanging on the hook at the back of his locker and headed to the corridor leading to the field.
Panic jolted through him as soon as he entered the darkened hallways. He couldn’t go out on the field feeling so unsettled. Quickly he ran back in the locker room and fished the tattered rabbit’s foot from his jacket pocket. He held it to his lips and wished away the bad juju.
“C’mon, Havelak. Time to go!” Joe called out to him.
Gabe replaced the rabbit’s foot in his jacket and jogged back to his team.
In the temporary sanctuary of the concrete corridor, he shook out his limbs, trying to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling that had been stalking him all afternoon. Fortunately, the nervous tingling of excitement started to creep upon him as he approached the field. Just as the bright sunlight drew close, Gabe and his teammates threw on their jerseys and ran onto the grass. They were met with explosive cheers from the stands. The Surge waved to the fans and promptly took their spots on the field while Gabe jogged to the center of the field for the coin toss.
“How are the twins, Rick?” he asked the gray-haired referee, remembering the man had become a first-time grandpa in the off-season.
“They’re wonderful. Two happy, healthy, beautiful girls, who are learning to crawl. Who knew people so small could take up so much energy?”
“I’m sure you keep up just fine.” Rick was one of the fittest, sharpest refs in the league.
“Can we quit flirting and get the coin toss over with?” Brandon Carter, the Denver captain, asked.
Douche. Gabe offered a tight-lipped smile and tried to keep cool. Carter was known for being a shit talker who rarely performed as well as his ego liked to believe.
“Call it,” Rick said tersely, tossing the quarter in the air.
“Tails,” Carter said.
“Tails it is. Kickoff or side?”
“Sucker,” Carter said to Gabe, then lazily glanced around the field, weighing his options with exaggerated deliberation. “Huh. I always knew the Surge were pussies. Looks like you’re being relegated to the girly league, where you belong.”
“What are you talking about?” Gabe asked just before he noticed the perimeter advertising boards. Every few minutes between ads, they were supposed to flash to the Surge’s logo—a rounded, cresting tidal wave. Instead, they proclaimed in bright HD color that the Surge loved the AWSL. Moments later, the boards flashed “Go Falcons Go.”
“I’ll be damned,” he said, half-annoyed, half-amused. In that moment, he knew unequivocally that Lainey had something to do with this. He turned his attention back to Carter, feeling his fading competitive streak come alive again.
“We’ll take the south side,” Carter sneered at the ref.
“Good luck,” Gabe added, knowing he was about to kick some ass.
Forty-five minutes after the first whistle, that’s exactly what he was doing. The Surge were up 2–0, thanks in part to Gabe’s impenetrable defense. The flat-back-four system worked like a charm under his leadership, gracefully shutting down every possible angle of attack. Yet, that bastard Carter still had a smug look on his face with only a few minutes left in the half. Gabe had just blocked a play from the Denver offense, resulting in a corner kick.
The players positioned themselves in and around the eighteen-yard box. Gabe jogged to cover Carter at the far corner of the net, growing increasingly frustrated with the smirk on his rival’s face. They jostled each other, perhaps a little rougher than usual, as the Denver midfielder set up for the kick.
“Nice jersey. Did your mommy forget how to spell your name?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Carter?”
“I could tell you, but I’d rather you chase yourself around like a stupid dog going after its own tail.”
Gabe reached over his shoulder and pulled at his jersey. It was difficult to read upside down, but judging by the letters that were visible, it read H-A-V-E-N-O-L-U-C-K. He swore, making Carter laugh louder. Gabe glanced at the backs of his other teammates. Every one of their jerseys was labeled with a mockery.
Distracted by the prank, Gabe barely noticed as the kick flew high above the players, cresting ten yards out from the near post and dropping in the perfect spot for Carter to get a head to it. Gabe bounded into the air, twisting and snapping his abs to head t
he ball away from the danger zone before Carter could get to it.
He avoided the immediate threat, but he didn’t make clean contact with the ball. It managed to clear the box, but a Denver player was ready for it, hitting the ball with a one-touch volley in a fierce drive toward the net. Gabe watched hopelessly as Joe dived too late to the corner with his arm outstretched.
The ball flew just wide of the post.
Gabe breathed a sigh of relief while Joe readied for the goal kick. When the halftime whistle blew a few moments later, he and his teammates followed the coaching staff back to the locker room muttering their embarrassment and vow of revenge on the Falcons.
“What the hell was that?” Jim Heidermann, the Surge’s head coach, screamed in his usual red-faced way.
“Some excellent soccer, sir,” Aiden responded earnestly.
Coach threw his hat onto the ground. “You’re all distracted. And the only reason we’re winning is because the Denver Peak are a team full of dumbasses who are more distracted by your gossip and drama than you are! Get your heads out of your asses and back in the game. Especially you, Havelak. You’re the one who got your team into this whole Battle of the Sexes mess, and you’re responsible for getting them out. How many times have I told you all to not get involved with women? They make you crazy.”
“Celibacy: it’s not just for Catholic priests anymore,” Joe whispered to Gabe.
“Explains why Heidermann’s so cranky all the time,” Gabe whispered back, despite the unease in his stomach. He listened carefully as the coach directed them through the game plan for the second half, but he couldn’t shake the feeling the other shoe was about to drop. He knew Lainey had to be behind this. Only, Lainey didn’t do anything half-assed. If the advertising boards were her stepping up the competition, it was only the first step. Things were going to get ugly, fast.
“Seriously, though. What are you going to do about this?” Joe asked, pointing to the lettering on the back of his keeper’s jersey that read S-H-A-R-E-A-H-A-N-D.