Page 16 of Rise Above

that?”

“You better not listen to that drivel.” His nose

scrunched up in disgust. “The only country I’ll listen to is Willie or George.”

I snickered. “You sure you ain’t from Texas?” My

accent dripped out a little thicker.

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“Ha. Fuck no.” He ran backwards as I glanced after

him. “Texans are stupid.”

I made a quick mental note to hit him with the ball

today; nobody insulted my state.

Before I knew it, the game had started. I took up my

usual sweeper position, preparing for any strikers trying to get past our defense. Most people thought I should be a forward because of my speed, but that’s why I loved defense. I could stop plays and use my speed to initiate a drive on goal. Back in my undergrad days, I was a defender with the most goals in our region. It was one statistic I had I was actually proud of.

“Man!” I yelled as Peter nearly got tackled by

another player, causing my heart to race. Peter quickly dropped the ball to me. In a few seconds, I had analyzed the field, my eyes quickly surveying each player in a few seconds and then crossed the ball to Davis on the left side. He dribbled toward the goal before lobbing to center. Eric was there to finish the shot, but the goalie saved it and tossed it to a player on his team. My chest deflated at the lack of a goal.

The opposing team made a drive down the right

line. One player managed to make it to me before I barreled into his chest and stole the ball with some fancy footwork. My breathing picked up as I sprinted forward. I took the ball straight up the middle, passing to Eric on my right. He dragged the ball back and flicked it with the side of his foot back to me. I crisscrossed my feet over the ball, confusing the defender then used my laces to strike the ball into the upper right corner, chest heaving at my run. Fuck… I

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wasn’t supposed to play this hard, but we were winning. One, nothing to the grad students.

The rest of the game continued in a similar fashion,

but we won four to one. A smile crept onto my face as I chugged some Gatorade. Soccer really did make everything better, even though I wasn’t meant to be playing. Eric and Peter fist bumped me before leaving, and I turned to the bench. Dre, Nat, and Davis were all chatting. Dre looked like she was ready to explode as she frantically waved me over.

“Aife.” She was trying to whisper but was not

succeeding. “Do you know who those guys are?”

“Um…” I tried to remember what Davis had said

last week. “Zeke and TJ?”

Dre looked at me incredulously. “Babe.” She

sounded disappointed in me. “Clearly, I need to bring you to more hockey games. The red head is Zeke Carter—all-star fucking goalie for the Warhammers. Tall, dark, and brooding is the one and only TJ Walker.”

The names vaguely rang bells for me. “Okay.

Should I be falling all over myself for an autograph or something? They’re just people who are talented with sticks and ice, Dre.”