Page 142 of Play For Me

“She fucking did it!” he yells in my ear. For once, the noise doesn’t bother me.

In fact, I barely take it in, all my attention locked on the field below. Cecelia is surrounded by her teammates, grinning like a lunatic. She’s red-faced from the last ninety minutes of difficult play, her hair sweaty and matted.

I don’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful.

My eyes dart to the clock—ten seconds left, and the score is 2-1. Cecelia doesn’t act like they have it in the bag though. The other team is hurrying to get into position for a last offensive attempt and she’s shouting at her teammates, directing them into position for the final kick-off, clapping her hands and shouting out instructions, making sure everyone is focused.

I can’t wipe the grin off my face as her family and the crowd continue to lose it, counting down the seconds on the clock. They somehow manage to get even louder when the ref gives three sharp whistle blasts, signaling the end of the game.

She did it. She won.

There’s bedlam on the field. Cash is hugging me. Vega is crying. Will and Wyatt are slapping my back. But my eyes stay on my girl.

I have to admit, I feel a twinge when the bench empties and the whole team rushes the field. The training staff is down therewith the coaches and the players, and part of me feels like I should be there, too.

But then Cecelia’s mother pulls me into a hug, and I realize I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

“You helped do that, you know,” Sam tells me, close to my ear so I can hear her over the noise.

I shake my head. “That was all her.”

Sam squeezes me. “You helped her get her confidence back. You helped make itfunfor her again. Thank you, Solomon.”

My eyes get a little blurry at that. All I want in this world is to watch Cecelia Ransome have fun playing soccer. She pats my back a few times before releasing me. As Sam turns to hug her sons, I see tears in her eyes to match the ones in mine.

Down on the field, Cecelia looks up from her team’s celebration, her eyes scanning the stands until she finds us. Our gazes lock and she puts a hand over her heart. I do the same, hoping she can see everything I’m trying to say in that gesture.

The way she smiles tells me that she does.

It seemsto take forever before we finally get to see her. There’s a trophy presentation, medals are handed out, and a ton of pictures are taken. When Cecelia is named tournament MVP, Cash hides his face, but we all know he’s crying.

Just when she’s about to make her way over to where we’ve huddled along the fence, Coach Carla grabs her arm, pointing in the opposite direction. I watch as Cecelia goes very still before nodding her head. She shoots us a look I can’t quite read, then follows her coach over to where a few people I don’t recognize are standing.

“Press?” Cash asks, a hint of disquiet in his voice. I crane my neck to see better but I still don’t recognize the pair. They’re animated as they talk to her, and Cecelia is wearing a serious expression. “I don’t think it’s press,” I mutter, a suspicion growing in my gut.

Then her smile returns, spreading slowly across her face, and she holds out a hand to shake with them both, and I justknow.

“Who is it then?” Will asks.

Before I can answer, Cecelia waves to the pair, bumps fists with her grinning coach, and heads back in our direction. After a second, she starts sprinting, an expression on her face like I’ve never seen before.

There’s a gate a few feet from us, but she ignores it, coming straight for me instead. She jumps up against the fence and I grab her under the arms, lifting her the rest of the way.

She has her arms around my neck, her legs wrapped around my middle, and we’re both laughing while she buries her face in my shoulder. Any remaining disappointment I felt about not being on the sidelines with her is long gone—I’d much rather be her boyfriend than her trainer in this moment.

In every moment.

“Was that who I think it was?” I ask, my cheek pressed against hers.

She pulls back enough to look up at me. “National Team scouts,” she whispers, eyes wide, like she hasn’t quite wrapped her mind around it. “I’m invited to camp in January.”

“Holy shit,” I mutter, holding her even tighter.

“I know,” she laughs, the sound watery. “I can’t believe it.”

I look down into her beautiful, overjoyed, shocked face and I swear I’ve never felt so much all at once. Pride. Joy. So much love. “I can. They’d be crazy not to want you, Cecelia Ransome.”

Her eyes lock on mine. “This wouldn’t have happened without you, Solomon.”