“I am.”
Training for the Olympics had been a fulltime job for the last few years. Once I’d earned a spot on the Olympic roster a few months earlier, I’d moved to L.A. and taken the spare room in Kinsley and Liam’s house. Every morning, I woke up and had breakfast by 5:30 AM. I joined my team for practice by 6:00 AM, and we would spend a few hours working through drills and reviewing game footage. After that, we’d get a short lunch break before reconvening in the afternoon for strength training and workouts.
The only social life I’d had outside of soccer was fifth-wheeling on dates with Liam, Kinsley, Becca, and Penn. It was fun, but the days were long and regimented. That was part of the reason why I’d clung to the idea of Rio.
It’d been months since I’d had any sort of real date, even longer since I’d last hooked up with a guy. Sure, there was Tinder and hundreds of other dating apps, but those things took time, which was always in short supply. Unless stolen glances in the grocery store checkout line count, I hadn’t so much as locked eyes with a guy since college.
Swimming with Freddie had literally been the most interesting afternoon I’d had in months and that’s why I had to be smart, keep my distance, and maintain control of my heart and my head. It’d be too easy for the ground to crumble and wash away beneath us.
Coach Decker started us on drills and I lost myself in practice. It felt good to run, sweat, and concentrate on something so simple. For three hours, the only thing I had to do was draw a line in the turf and keep a soccer ball from crossing it.
“Good work, ladies,” Coach Decker said as we huddled together at the end of practice. We sat in a circle, guzzling water and trying to catch our breath. I ripped my shirt off over my head and tossed the sticky thing aside. The cold air felt good against my skin as I leaned back on my palms, listening to our coach. “You all are more than ready for the game in three days. Many of us know France well from last time around, so we know that they’re going to come out of the gate with speed and aggression, but if we stay focused, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t come out on top.”
Kinsley leaned closer and bumped her shoulder against mine. I turned and she nudged her chin in the direction of the stadium doors. When I glanced over, it was just in time to see Freddie take a seat on the first row of bleachers. He was dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, and he’d thrown his baseball hat on as if to stifle his shine. He smiled when he saw me glance over and my already rapidly beating heart pounded against my breastbone so hard I thought it’d be visible when I glanced down.
He’d come to my practice.
Why the fuck had he come to my practice?
I turned away with the image of his sharp features burned into my memory.
Coach Decker wrapped up, we broke from the huddle, and every single woman on my team took in Freddie Archibald sitting and waiting for me. God, he was good-looking. He had those old world, classic features, the kind of face that took generations of good genes to create. No matter how far he tugged that hat down on his head, there was no hiding his beauty.
“I didn’t realize we’d invited a royal audience,” Becca said as I trailed her and Kinsley to the row of bleachers where we’d dropped our bags. I took my sweet time gathering my things and then dug into my bag for another shirt since mine was still sticky from practice. Fortunately, I had a clean Lululemon tank stuffed in there. I pulled it on before I turned to assess Freddie. Michelle and a few other rookies had gathered around him. Even Liam was over there, chatting with him about God knows what.
Kinsley tried to catch my eye but I ignored her and tugged my bag over my shoulder.
“Did you invite him here?” Becca asked, running to catch up to me.
I shot her a glare. “Of course not.”
“Well he looks really happy to see you.”
He did. When I looked back in his direction, he’d stood and stepped past the group to get to me. Michelle watched me from over his shoulder with a curious frown. I ignored her and glanced back to Freddie to find a seductive smile stretched across his lips. Yesterday, I’d psyched myself up before joining him for a swim. I’d prepared the whole day, but this—him surprising me at practice—caught me off guard. I’d had no time to neatly compartmentalize him. He was there, standing in front of me, smelling divine and smiling down at me. At least his tush was safely under a pair of jeans this time.
“I thought I’d arrive in time to watch you practice,” he said with a touch of disappointment that didn’t quite reach his smile.
I looked back at the empty field. “Short practice, we just finished up.”
“I can tell,” he said, reaching out to drag his finger across my sweaty bicep. Goosebumps bloomed beneath his touch and I inhaled a shaky breath before working up the courage to meet his eyes.
“Yeah, you might not want to come any closer. I’m still pretty gross.”