Goal Keeper_A Pearson Players novel

by Sarah Nego

  Ryan took a step back, but I didn’t stop as all my disappointment spilled out.

  “I have goals, Ryan. Real ones. And they mean something to me. This degree that I’m busting my ass to get means something to me. You wouldn’t get that because you gave up on your goals before you even acknowledged you had them.”

  “Luci.” Ryan’s voice was soft. There wasn’t any fight in him. “Don’t do this.”

  I stood and stared at the ground. There weren’t any more words to say. I turned away from him and moved as quickly as I could on my crutches back toward my dorm. The quicker I got there, the sooner I could stop holding in the tears that were seconds from spilling over.

  Thirty-Seven

  Luci

  Sunday

  Whatever

  I sniffed at my shirt and wrinkled my nose. Three days straight of wearing the same clothes left them smelling a little ripe. After two weeks of ignoring my growing pile of laundry I was down to my last outfit. The laundry room was in the basement of our dorm, and getting clothes down there was difficult at best. I could have asked Erin for help, but I didn’t.

  Instead, I sat in my own stink, grabbed another handful of Cheetos, and flipped the TV to another episode of Housewives of somewhere. Nothing like some bad reality television full of people with petty problems to make your own life look slightly better than crap.

  Erin walked into the room and wrinkled her nose the second she spotted me still in bed where I’d been when she left hours earlier. Her eyes drifted to my orange-dusted sweatshirt and the garbage TV show, but she didn’t say a word.

  She did purse her lips and pick up her side of the room. Not that it was mess, just a few magazines and a random pair of shoes. Nothing at all like what I had going on. It was amazing how dirty a room could get when you barely left it for a solid two weeks. At this point, I only went out for classes and sometimes meals. Coach Taylor told me not to come to practices so I could stay off my ankle as much as possible. And since I’d managed to completely avoid establishing a social life, my existence was pretty much this little room. My bed and the floor around it were covered in clothes, random pieces of paper, and food wrappers.

  Erin grabbed an open bag of chips and marched toward the garbage can.

  “Hey,” I called out, sitting up and spilling a few Cheetos on my sheets. “That’s not empty.”

  She stopped, glanced down into the bag, and rolled her eyes. “All that’s left are tiny crumbs. If you try to eat these, they’ll go everywhere, and we’ll end up with bugs.”

  Anger flooded my chest. “They’re my chips,” I growled out.

  “Fine.” Erin marched back over and placed the crinkled bag in my hands.

  She was right. It would be generous to call the tiny slivers at the bottom of the bag crumbs. But it was my bag, and I’d throw it away when I was good and ready. Eventually.

  “So, is this what you’re going to do now? Sulk in here watching bad television and plan your rise to greatness as the moodiest person alive?”

  I wadded up the chip bag and tossed it to the foot of my bed. “I’m not moody.”

  Erin laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in the sound. “You’re so moody I’m going to start calling you Mad Eye and get you one of those little rings that change colors. At least then I might get a warning for which Luci I get to talk to.”

  “What’s that supposed to me?”

  “I never know how you’re going to act from one minute to the next.” Erin plopped into her desk chair and frowned at me. “Some days you’re Sad Luci. You cry into your pillow, and I have to sit here and pretend I can’t hear you. Then there’s Lazy Luci that throws her stuff everywhere and refuses to do anything, including school work and showering. And my personal favorite is Angry Luci.” She waved her hand in my direction. “That’s when you sit on your proverbial high horse and act like I, and everyone else at this school, am personally responsible for your life falling apart around you.”

  “I do not,” I shouted at her, my anger boiling over.

  “You seriously yelled at me for trying to throw away an empty bag of chips.”

  “Because they weren’t yours!” I yelled even louder. “Why can’t everyone leave me alone and let me handle my life? I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what to do.”

  “Dammit, Luci!” Erin shouted and stood up, turning away from me. “I’m not trying to tell you want to do. What could I possibly have to offer to the girl who has everything figured out? Clearly, discovering new levels of body odor is part of your grand plan.”

  “I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing,” I said between clenched teeth. “I’m getting an A in every single one of my classes, and my scholarship is secure. I can’t play, and Coach doesn’t want me at practice, so here I am, resting my leg like he told me to. Those are my jobs right now. School and resting. This is my one shot to make everything happen.”

  Tears filled Erin’s eyes when she turned back toward me. “You’re right, this is your one shot. Your one shot to be you right now, and you’re blowing it. We don’t get these years back, Luci. This is our chance to try things, to fall in love and get our hearts broken and then fall in love again. It’s our shot to do what we really want to do.”

  I shook my head. “No it’s not.” The fight had left me, and the words came out filled with sadness. “I can’t do whatever I want because when I do, bad things happen. I get hurt and risk losing my soccer scholarship, and my grades drop and threaten my academic scholarship.” A tear fell out of my eye, and I wiped it away, smearing gritty, orange dust across my face. “I learned the hard way that I can’t have what I want.”

  “No you didn’t.” Erin walked to my bed, shoved aside some of the junk, and sat down, facing me. “You got knocked down, and it was a hell of a fall, no pun intended. This is called a failure, and for the rest of us mere mortals, it’s a regular part of life. But a failure is not the end, it’s just an opportunity to try again. You’re not out of the game. Not yet anyway. But if you keep this up, you’re going to take yourself out.”

  I pulled my blanket up under my chin as her words sunk in. God help me. I’d taken one bad hit, and instead of pulling myself together, I’d let everything fall apart. Was I really going to sit in my dorm room and quit? I looked around me at the mess and my own stink. Quitting was exactly what I’d done.

  A new anger rose up inside me. This time directed at myself. I hadn’t spent years getting to where I was to just let the house of cards fall down at the first hiccup. “Okay,” I said, wiping away more tears. “I think I should go take a shower. Do you think you can loan me some clean clothes and help me get a load in the laundry?”

  “Yes.” Erin jumped up and started gathering the trash on my bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up and put back together, and then you can call Ryan.”

  I had one leg already off the side of the bed, but I froze at her words. “No. This isn’t about him. This is about getting back on track so I don’t mess up again.”

  Erin punched her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you don’t have feelings for that fine hunk of man meat.”

  “I…” Of course I did, but that wasn’t the point. “Warm fuzzies aren’t going to get me a graphic design degree.”

  Erin stared me down for another few seconds and then rolled her eyes. “I only have the energy for so many pep talks in one day. For now, I’ll take getting you in a shower as a victory. We’ll work on your suppressed emotions another day.”

  I grabbed my crutches, snagged my shower caddy, and headed to the bathroom without another word about Ryan. Erin didn’t know because she hadn’t been down this road. The one where you get to the end and your heart is lying in little pieces. I couldn’t do that again. I wouldn’t.

  Loving Ryan had almost killed my dreams once, so I’d have to learn how to stop loving him.

  Thirty-Eight

  Ryan

  Friday

  The living room was absolute
ly packed with soccer players, and I couldn’t wait for all of them to go home. I enjoyed a party as much as the next guy, but not this time. Not when every few minutes someone stopped me to ask where Luci was. Probably in her room, but I wouldn’t know since she stopped responding to my texts three weeks ago. But I couldn’t say that, so I shrugged, took a large sip of beer, and walked away.

  If only walking away from Luci was that easy. Because the smart thing to do would be to forget all about her. Maybe find someone new, or play it single for a while like I’d originally planned. But I didn’t want to be single, and I definitely didn’t want to date anyone else. What I wanted was Luci back in my arms where she belonged, but the chances of that happening were about as high as getting a repeat invitation to Dallas next summer.

  Luci seemed hell bent on completely shutting me out, and I couldn’t seem to shake her. I didn’t want to. For the first time ever, I felt like I could make a real decision. Maybe go after something because I wanted it and not because someone else said it was the smart thing to do. In fact, I could do what I wanted even if someone said it was a dumb thing to do. And that was because of Luci. How was I supposed to walk away from that and pretend I didn’t need her in my life anymore?

  Scooter waved me over from where he was watching Crash dominate in a game of beer pong, but I shook my head and headed back toward my room. Everyone there was so freaking happy that the two soccer teams could finally hang out without worrying about Vanessa, but the one person I really wanted there wasn’t, so the party was pointless to me.

  I walked into my room and kicked the door closed behind me.

  This wasn’t at all how I’d imagined my junior year. When I was still with Vanessa, I’d pictured an entire year full of following her around from one big event to the next as she planned her graduation and eventual rise to whatever it was she was hoping to do. Vanessa had always been vague about her career goals, talking about event planning or social strategy. After a few weeks with her family in Dallas, I realized she was talking about event planning our wedding and creating a social strategy to climb the ranks of snobby East Texas housewives.

  After that wake-up call and our breakup, I’d thought my junior year would be one big party. A final hurrah and celebration of my newfound freedom before I had to really buckle down and focus on graduation. Funny how even though being a business major had always been Vanessa’s idea, I’d never given a fleeting thought to changing it.

  Luci had been right. I’d accepted a career path without stopping to ask if it was what I wanted. I was a business major because it was the path of least resistance, and changing it created a whole host of unknowns I had no desire to face.

  At least until I met Luci. She knew exactly what she wanted and sprinted toward it even though a ton of obstacles stood in her way. Someone without Luci’s strength would have ended up at State with a full ride and a handful of dreams discarded along the way. That was exactly what I would have done.

  It was what I did. All I had to show for my dreams were a handful of photographs hanging on the wall.

  “Hey, man.” Scooter slid into my room and closed the door behind him. “You gonna hide in here all night.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not really in the mood for a party.”

  “I noticed.” Scooter stood next to me, and we looked at the photos on my wall together. “For the past few weeks, you haven’t been in the mood for anything. Aside from moping and pining. You’ve been doing that in spades.”

  I waved him off and sat on the edge of my bed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m a pathetic loser who can’t get over losing the girl.”

  “Your words, not mine.” Scooter sat next to me and took a sip of beer.

  Scooter and I had lucked out our freshman year when the school paired us as roommates, and we’d been living together ever since. He was a solid guy. Not loud or flashy like Crash, and he was always willing to let me take a leadership role in our little trio. Scooter was the perfect wing man for everything life had to throw at me.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Scooter faced me, a sly smile spread over his face. “No way am I spooning with you tonight.”

  “Duly noted,” I said, elbowing him in the arm. I took a deep breath and gazed up at one of my favorite photographs. A dandelion growing out of a crack in the sidewalk. I’d taken it freshman year right after I’d met Vanessa. And before I let go of myself. It was a simple black-and-white, and the shadows were poorly done. If I could take it again, I’d use a slightly shorter shutter speed and a bit more toner during development to really highlight the texture differences between the feathery soft petals and the grainy concrete behind them.

  But even with the issues I saw, I loved this one. It reminded me of how photography used to make me feel before I’d listened to the voices that told me it was a waste of time. Like I was making something beautiful.

  “How crazy would it be for me to switch to a photography major?”

  Scooter stood and leaned against the wall facing me. “You mean get a degree in how to make more pictures like this?”

  I shook my head, and disappointment flooded my chest. “Never mind. It was a dumb idea.”

  “Is that what I said?” Scooter’s voice was harsh.

  I looked up to find him staring down at me like I’d taken the last beer out of the fridge. “Do I look like Vanessa to you?”

  “No,” I stuttered out.

  “Damn right. I have much better legs than that bitch.” Scooter flashed me a pageant-winning smile and struck a pose with his leg pointed out.

  I ran a hand up his leg. “I can tell you’ve been working your calves. So, what are you saying?”

  “Sometimes you’re really thick.” Scooter pointed at me with his red plastic cup of beer. “It’s about time you got off your ass and decided to be in the driver’s seat. I think you’d kick ass as a photography major.”

  I leaned back on the bed and stared up at the photographs I’d taken over the years whenever I managed to squeeze in a few free minutes. That should have been an obvious sign right there that my first instinct was to grab my camera. I’d never even considered it before.

  “I need to make a fun call.”

  Scooter stood up to leave, but I kicked his leg. “Will you stay?”

  He nodded, so I pulled out my phone and dialed.

  My dad answered on the second ring. “Hey, champ. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  “Yeah, soccer and school have been keeping me pretty busy.” My dad and I rarely spoke. I was always busy with soccer, he was busy with the shop, and we both used our schedules as an excuse not to talk to each other. We’d never had the kind of relationship that fostered long, meaningful conversations.

  “What’s new in your world?”

  I sucked in a breath. Changing my major didn’t just impact me. “I’ve been thinking about my classes lately.”

  Next to me, Scooter rolled his eyes. “Fine,” I mouthed back at him.

  “Actually, I kinda hate my classes.” I drew in another quick breath and spit out the words before I lost my nerve. “I want to switch my major to photography.”

  “Okay.”

  I blinked at the wall. I told my dad I wanted to switch to a major that had nothing to offer his auto body shop, and that was all he had to say? “Is that all you’re going to say?”

  My dad laughed, the sound vibrating through the phone. “I’m not sure what else to say. You’ve always been great with a camera, so if that’s what you want to do, then you should go for it.”

  I blinked again as shock blew through me. “But what about the shop? Taking pictures isn’t going to help Richard and Son.”

  “Who said I needed your help?” His voice wasn’t rough, but there was a slight edge to his words.

  “I don’t think you need me, Dad, but seriously ... you named it Richard and Son.”

  Silence rang from the other end of the phone line.

  “Dad?”

  “Shit,” he gr
umbled. “How long have you thought I expected you to come back here after graduation and work in the shop?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “Since forever.”

  “Ryan. This shop is my dream. I named it Richard and Son because it sounds better than just Richard’s. And yeah, maybe, I thought that someday you might want to come work here, maybe take over for me. But I knew by junior high that you’d never be happy here.”

  Something thick lodged in my throat, making it difficult to speak.

  “If photography makes you happy, then that’s what you should do. Hell, I wouldn’t care if you wanted to switch your major to Ancient World Literature, though I don’t know what the hell you’d do with a degree like that. All I’ve ever wanted you to be is happy.”

  Holy shit. All this time I’d been worried that if I didn’t follow my dad into the shop he’d be pissed, or at least disappointed. But I was the one putting that pressure on myself. And maybe I used that self-imposed future to avoid thinking about what I really wanted to do. But now I could make my own plans centered around my own dreams.

  It felt like such a big moment, but my brain couldn’t find the right words for it. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “So this is it, huh? Photography is what will bring you happiness and fulfillment and all that?”

  Well, no. It was a good start, but I wasn’t sure any of that was possible without Luci. “Yes.”

  “All right then. Go do it.” Voices sounded from the background of wherever he was. Probably the garage. “I have to get going, but don’t be such a stranger.”