She nods again. “I was just annoyed. But I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome.”
“You didn’t,” I assure her, even though she sort of did.
She studies me speculatively. “You’re different,” she admits. “Most girls are too busy making heart eyes at Adler to so much as talk to the rest of us.”
“Sounds awkward,” I note. “But I’m leaving in a few weeks. I already know my heart eyes are numbered.”
She eyes me. “Maybe that’s why you’re different. The rest of them never did.”
Sophia leads me through the entryway to the opposite side of the house, which I learn contains a library, sitting room, two bathrooms, and an honest-to-God conservatory.
“I feel like I’m in a game of Clue,” I confess to Sophia as I glance around the glass-paneled room that juts off the east side of the mansion.
She laughs. “Oh my God, I haven’t played that in forever.”
“It’s my favorite board game,” I admit. “I get sort of competitive. None of my housemates back home will play with me anymore.”
“We’re totally playing after brunch,” Sophia decides, grinning.
“It’s a deal,” I reply, smiling back.
We swing back through the entryway, past a room that must be the kitchen, based on the flash of shiny appliances, and end up back on the terrace. Breakfast has been served, and Beck’s eyes jump up from his freshly served plate to meet my gaze as soon as I step out of the house. Erika’s taken the seat at the other end of the table, and I make my way around the back of her seat to sink down beside Beck.
“All good?” he asks me in a low voice.
I nod, studying the array of food spread before me. I tend to be a picky eater, and I could characterize my relationship with German cuisine as more misses than hits. There are some familiar dishes—waffles and what looks like a cheese tart with cherries—but the rest are foreign. There’s some sort of smoked fish topped with a swirled cream, a green soup sprinkled with crispy brown croutons, a salad scattered with seared meat, and rolls with crispy bacon and sauerkraut peeking out.
“That’s mackerel,” Beck informs me, nodding to the fish. “And zucchini soup with pumpernickel crusts.”
“Yum,” I remark, in what I mean to be a genuine tone. Beck chuckles under his breath, suggesting I may not have been completely successful.
“Weren’t they both on your list of most-hated German foods?” he asks.
I flush. I forgot about my “conversation” with Matthew Jr. in front of him. “That was before I decided to embrace the local culture,” I tell Beck.
He smirks. “Really?”
“Uh-huh,” I reply, forking some of the fish onto my plate and trying not to gag at the smell.
“I ran into Headmaster Schneider yesterday,” Erika states as she eats some of the green soup that’s apparently made from zucchinis. “He’s looking forward to the camp, Adler.”
“Good. I’ve got four guys from the club coming,” Beck replies.
“Herrmann?” Hans asks.
“Ja. And Ludwig,” Beck responds.
Hans nods in approval.
“What camp?” I inquire.
Everyone looks at me, but Beck is the one who answers. “It’s for the kids at my old football academy. We do a weekend clinic once a year. This year’s is next Sunday.”
“They trust you to teach children?” The words are out before I think them through.
Beck just grins, unperturbed. Erika doesn’t fully manage to hide her smile behind her water glass.
“We’re always looking for more volunteers, if you’re interested, Saylor,” Erika offers.
“Oh, um, I don’t really—I’ve never coached anyone before,” I reply.
Sophia pipes in with “If Adler can manage it, I’m sure you can.”
Yup, totally set myself up for that.
I surprise myself by saying yes. Lancaster’s soccer teams had to attend a youth clinic last year, but it was more a PR stunt for the university than anything. All we did was pass out water bottles and set up cones.
“Wonderful,” Erika replies.
“You play football?” Karl speaks for the first time since I returned from Sophia’s tour.
I decide to give his wayward eyes another chance. “Yeah, I do. You?”
“Used to. My band takes up too much time now.”
I smile to myself. Of course he’s in a band. “Do you play an instrument?” I ask, in an effort to be polite.
Beck sighs beside me. At first, I think it’s in annoyance; but when Karl launches into a twenty-minute description of his skills on guitar, his capability in writing songs about squirrels, and his lofty musical goals, I realize it was with dread. This is obviously a soliloquy the Becks have all heard before. Even Sophia looks bored.
After we finish eating, Sophia darts inside and returns with a familiar cardboard box.
“A board game?” Beck asks skeptically.
“No one invited you to play, Adler,” Sophia says.
Hans and Erika rise to clear plates, and I start to as well. “We’ve got them,” Erika says, flapping her hands toward me in a clear motion to stay seated. “You kids have fun.”
“There’s nothing fun about Clue,” Beck mutters.
“It’s Saylor’s favorite game,” Sophia states.
He looks to me. “It is?”
I nod, then shrug. “I like mysteries.”
“Fine, I’ll play.” Beck sighs.
I don’t miss the way Sophia glances between us, and I know she’s misreading Beck’s acquiescence. She sets up the board, deals out the cards, and then we play. Despite his initial complaints, Beck is not the least enthusiastic player at the table. Karl has him beat by a mile. I guess all of his cards by my third turn, mostly because Karl keeps flashing them at me. Either he truly has no idea how the game works, or it’s his attempt at flirting with me in front of his girlfriend.
Beck navigates Mrs. White, known as Frau Weiss in the German edition, out of one room, and I let out a long sigh. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He glances at me. “I just did.”
“But it did happen in the Conservatory.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“How do you know?” I reply.
“Because I have the card, so I know you’re just messing with me.”
“Hmmmm,” I say, adding a question mark next to the room listing on my sheet.
“Or am I messing with you?” Beck adds, sending me a smirk as he moves the white figurine forward.
I narrow my eyes at him.
I have to show Sophia one of my cards on her next turn, and I walk all the way around the table just to show her the illustration of a gun to ensure Beck can’t peek.
She shakes her head as I head back to my seat beside him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re competitive?”
“Multiple times a day,” I assure her.
And it’s affirmed twice more when I correctly guess the suspect, location, and weapon.
“You don’t have to be quite so excited about winning,” Beck informs me as we clean up the pieces. Sophia and Karl have already headed inside.
“Well, I didn’t exactly have a chance to celebrate last time,” I reply, referencing our shootout for the first time in weeks.
“Maybe because you knew it wasn’t a clean victory,” Beck replies.
“What was dirty about it?” I counter. “I made five, you made four.”
“My thoughts, for starters,” Beck replies.
I smirk as I meet his gaze. “You didn’t seem all that affected.”
“I’ve been training since I was a kid not to be affected on the field.”
But I affected him. He’s not saying it, but it’s spelled out in the subtext. “So, you’re saying you want a rematch?” I tease.
“No. There are other things I’d rather do with you than play football.” Heat and intensity mix in his gaze, but I don’t think he’s just talking about sex.
&nbs
p; “Well, Karl left,” Sophia states, bouncing out onto the terrace. “So, you can relax, Adler.”
“Great,” he replies, dropping my gaze.
“I think I’m done with him this time,” she decides.
“Great,” Beck repeats dryly. I’m guessing it’s a line he’s heard before. He grabs the board game box and heads inside.
“I just need to meet some new guys,” Sophia declares. “Clubbing! We should go clubbing next weekend!”
“Uh, sure,” I reply, unsure what the proper etiquette is for going out with a fuck buddy’s family member. Sophia doesn’t seem put off by my lackluster response, bouncing back inside while I follow.
Beck and his parents are already waiting in the marble foyer. We all exchange goodbyes, and Erika tells me how much she’s looking forward to the youth camp next Sunday. Sophia gives me a hug.
I smile, and then we’re back outside. “Sophia likes you,” Beck comments as we climb into the car.
“I know. She told me thirty seconds after we met,” I respond glibly. “Also... she wants to go clubbing next weekend.” I study Beck’s face closely, worried he might be annoyed. But his expression barely flickers as he starts back down the cobblestone driveway.
“Not surprised,” he responds.
We roll through the gate and then hit cement. Beck accelerates accordingly, and soon we’re speeding along at his usual pace.
“Thank you for inviting me today. It was nice,” I say. “Your parents are really nice. It’s nice you’re so close with them.” And nice is the only adjective I’m capable of coming up with, apparently.
“You’re not close with your father.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“No,” I confirm. “My dad, he—he didn’t deal well with my mom leaving. None of us did, really. But Hallie and I were just kids. He was the adult. He was supposed to hold it all together, and instead he fell apart. By the time he started acting like a parent again, I didn’t need one. Or want one, at least.”
“And now?”
“He’s getting remarried.” I sigh. “He called the day I found out I got into Scholenberg. Not that he would have had any idea of what it even is. I’ve only met Sandra—his fiancée—once.”
“How long have they been together?”
“Three years,” I admit. “I don’t go back home much.”
“Why not?”
“It’s weird. There are all these memories of the past. Before my mom left. After. The last time I was home was for my sister’s wedding. She’s... forgiven him. She went through all the same shit I did, and now she’s just fine. Married with a kid, going over to his house for dinner like we were always one big happy family. I’m the resentful one stuck in the past, just getting more bitter as they move on with their lives.”
“Just because you had the same upbringing doesn’t mean you have to respond to things the same way. You’re not the same person as your sister. I mean, look at me and Sophia. She brought a guy to brunch who can spend ten minutes describing his song about feeding squirrels. I was sitting next to the ‘Future of Women’s Soccer.’”
A surprised laugh bursts out of my lips. “Where did you come up with that?”
“I may have researched more than just your conversion rate,” Beck admits.
I smile, but the amusement fades quickly. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
Unexpected warmth encompasses my left hand.
I turn my gaze to the German countryside flashing by, trying to shake the claustrophobia crawling over me. I just told Beck things I’ve never spoken aloud. Never told anyone. That disgusting fish must have had some truth serum in it.
I’ve always kept confessions and coitus separate. Mixing them seems an awful lot like a relationship, and a boyfriend will not get me to the Olympics. To the national team. On a professional team after graduation. Won’t help me accomplish any of the goals I’ve set for myself.
Even if I were open to having a boyfriend, I’m pretty certain Adler Beck is the worst possible candidate for the position. Not just because he’s famous. And lives in a country four thousand miles away from the East Coast of the United States. And goes through women at a dizzying pace. And a poster of him hangs in the room across from my own.
Adler Beck is a terrible idea because I suddenly know with absolute certainty that if I let myself, I could care about him.
Like him.
Maybe even love him.
So, I slide my hand out from underneath his and pretend the pines we’re passing are the most interesting ones I’ve ever seen, so I don’t have to register his response.
Chapter Ten
I’m texting with Emma while eating lunch when Ellie and Alexis take seats at the dining room table across from me. I welcome them with a distracted hello as I reply to Emma about our lease terms. There’s a week-long gap between the end of Scholenberg and the start of Lancaster’s preseason. Despite the fact that we rent the house year-round, our landlord is being difficult about me moving back in a week earlier than everyone else. His guise is repairs, but I couldn’t care less about the house’s issues, for once. I’d rather hire a lawyer than have to go home. Emma promises to straighten it out, so I shut off my phone.
“I can’t believe it’s true,” Ellie is saying. “Is it even physically possible?”
“Why not?” Alexis replies. “I doubt he has any shortage of willing participants. There are like forty million women in Germany, right? Plus, the club travels internationally, too.” There’s a weird note in her voice that catches my attention.
“What are you guys talking about?” I ask, leaning back in my seat and taking a sip of my water.
“Olivia says Adler Beck only sleeps with women once.”
Some liquid goes down the wrong pipe, and I let out a small cough to clear my throat. Ah, that’s why Alexis is uncomfortable. I take another sip. “That’s not true.”
“It could be,” Ellie argues. “Olivia heard it from another Kluvberg player, supposedly. And every time I see a photo of him, it’s with a different woman.”
Fuck it. We’re only here for two more weeks. Plus, I’m running out of excuses for where I disappear to on Sundays, and the youth camp is this weekend.
“Well, he’s fucked me more than once.” I say it casually in an attempt to temper some of the shock value. A futile attempt, it turns out. Ellie knocks over the soda she was reaching for, and fizzy liquid immediately spreads across the table. “Ellie!” I quickly lift my sandwich to rescue it from the small flood and toss my solitary napkin on the puddle.
Ellie is just staring at me, wide-eyed, so I grab another wad of napkins from the dispenser and finish mopping up the mess myself. “No need to help, guys,” I tell them, taking a bite of my sandwich.
“Is she joking?” Ellie asks Alexis.
“Uh, I—I don’t—I’m not sure,” Alexis stutters.
I roll my eyes. “Sitting right here, Ellie.”
“You’re serious,” Ellie declares. “And you didn’t tell me?” Alexis says nothing.
“You’re going to lead with that, really?” I ask. “After how you just reacted?”
“Saylor, it’s Adler Beck! How did you think I would react?”
“I didn’t give any thought to how you might react to my sex life, honestly,” I reply before taking another bite. It’s not true if the number of times I’ve lied to her the last few weeks is any indication.
“How many times have you slept with him?” Ellie demands. It’s the question I was hoping she wouldn’t ask, but given the way the topic came up, it’s hardly a surprise.
I still feign disapproval. “Seriously?”
Ellie nods vigorously; Alexis looks even more uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Twenty, maybe? I haven’t been keeping track.” On purpose, and that’s actually a conservative estimate now that I think about it. I’m surprised. I don’t even think Drew and I have had sex that many times, and we’ve been hooking up since freshman year. I’ve known Beck for six weeks.
&nbs
p; “Twenty?” Ellie looks stunned.
I shrug. “He’s good in bed.”
“Okay, now we’re getting to the juicy stuff,” Ellie says, grinning as she leans forward eagerly. Alexis blushes scarlet.
I laugh. “Sorry, we’re not getting into the details of my sex life. You’ll have to take your ‘one’ shot with him and find out for yourself.”
“Let’s go, everyone. Bus is here!” One of the assistant coaches enters the house and starts herding us outside to head back to the stadium.
The brief trip to the van is all it takes for a fresh film of sweat to coat my body fully. It’s sweltering today, well into the nineties, possibly brushing a hundred. The second half of the day is usually more intense than the first, and there’s a fair bit of grumbling throughout the brief trip.
But there’s not so much as the barest wisp of a sigh as we file into the dim room in the depths of the stadium where our film sessions take place. Coach Weber is already waiting at the front of the room, drawing out lines on the whiteboard next to the projector screen.
Normally, I dread film sessions. I understand the importance of them strategically, but I’d much rather be making the motions myself. Today is an exception. I sink down on the cool plastic chair with a relieved sigh. The slightly damp, musty scent permeating the lowest level of the stadium has never been my favorite, but the cooler temperature more than makes up for it. I redo my ponytail, scraping up the wayward strands sticking to the back of my neck with the rest of my hair and allowing the colder air to hit my heated skin uninterrupted.
The film session lasts for two hours, and then Coach Weber announces we’re heading outside. The announcement is greeted with total silence. I wasn’t kidding when I told Beck’s mother Coach Weber is a drill sergeant. We fall into line like dutiful, uncomplaining soldiers as we trek through the hallways and out into the oppressive heat. The air hits in a wave of warmth like an oven door that’s just been opened.
“Shit, it’s hot,” Ellie mutters beside me.
“You think?” I murmur back.
We run through our usual warm-up routine of sit-ups, planks, burpees, and push-ups. I’m soaked with sweat by the time we finish the last set.
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