“Kinsley, Becca, and Tara— I need to see you girls in my office for a second,” she declared before heading back into the hallway. I finished lacing up my cleats and then glanced up at Becca.

“That sounded ominous,” I said as we followed Tara out of the locker room and down to Coach Davis’ office. The door was cracked open, but after the three of us stepped inside, Coach Davis motioned for me to close it.

Uh oh.

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“So, I'm sure you girls are aware of why I called you in this morning?" Coach Davis asked with an authoritative tone.

“Um, I'm assuming it’s because of the show last night?" I answered, eyeing Becca for backup. Were we in some kind of trouble? I could hear Tara’s voice in my head, “Um, it’s not our fault that we’re pretty.”

“What show?” Tara asked, and I couldn’t decide if she was actually naïve or if she just wanted the entire scenario repeated so she could revel in it all over again. My money was on the latter.

Coach Davis sighed and quickly filled her in on the list as well as Liam’s interview.

Of course, she left out all the fun details…

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like how hot Liam had looked in all his HD

glory. Sigh.

Tara acted like this was the first she’d heard of it. “Oh, wow. They listed me?! I can’t believe it. Well, I can. I was on that list last year, so I’d assumed I would be on it again—”

I wanted to stab one of Coach Davis'

pencils in my eye just to get out of hearing her finish that sentence. I know that stabbing my eye wouldn’t cause hearing loss, but maybe the trauma of the situation would shut Tara up.

“It’s important to realize what it actually means for each of you,” Coach Davis cut her off, and I had to bite back a smile. “As col-legiate athletes at the top soccer program in the country, you are role models for young 152/890

girls everywhere. You can't help being put on those lists, but I want you to pick and choose any interviews you do in the coming months very carefully. You'll be getting a lot of publicity within the next few weeks and I need you to remember what it is you're working toward.

“I'd prefer if you each spoke with me about any interviews prior to you accepting them. I can't force you to decline, but this isn't my first rodeo and you aren't my first soccer players to make that list. You need to be careful about your image and reputation.” My image. Did I even have any image? I felt a wave of nerves roll through me as her words sank in. Was my life going to change?

Was I prepared for this?

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Nope. No. No. I was not ready for the limelight.

"So I shouldn't wear my bikini to practice?" Becca asked, lightening the mood.

Coach Davis shot her an exasperated glare.

"Just keep a good head on your shoulders. I think every one of you girls has a chance of competing at the Olympic level if you play your cards right this season."

There it was again.

The Olympics.

I could practically hear a group of chubby cherubs singing behind me as I visu-alized the Olympic rings with me standing in the very center.

I’d never felt so close to actually accomplishing my dream. Hell, every soccer 154/890

player’s dream. It was the whole reason I’d chosen ULA in the first place. Coach Davis had been the assistant coach for the Women’s Olympic team for the past three Games, so she could teach me everything I needed to know going into tryouts. However, it wasn’t until that moment, when she’d spoken the words aloud, that I actually thought this could happen. This wasn’t just a fool’s dream anymore.

"Thank you so much, Coach. I won't lose focus," I said, clenching my fists and trying to keep my excitement under wraps.

Coach Davis nodded and waved her hand to let us know we could leave. We all hopped up, but just before I was out of the door, Coach Davis called after me.

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"Kinsley, could you hold on one second?”

I spun around to look back at her, and then she added, “You can close the door."

I moved to shut it and saw Becca standing in the hall waiting for me. Her brows were raised in curiosity and I shot her a

“help-me” face before closing the door so that I was alone with Coach Davis again.

Was it just me or did the baby cherubs just suddenly flee the room? I tried to gauge her mood as I sat back down, but it was impossible. Her mouth was pulled into a thin line, but her eyebrows were relaxed.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

She sighed and then glanced up at me. "I don't think I even need to be having this conversation with you, but I'd be a fool not to 156/890

cover all of my bases and make sure you're protected."

I scrunched my brows in thought.

"Protected?"

"From the media. I think it'd be wise to distance yourself from Coach Wilder as much as possible. I don't need to reiterate the fact that any sort of relationship between the two of you is off-limits, but the media will do it's best to falsify proof of a relationship if you give them any reason to believe it to be true. The media is already having a field day speculating about the two of you, and it's only been one week. You don't need his reputation tarnishing yours before you even have a chance to make a name of your own. Does that make sense?"

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She'd overloaded me with information, but the reminder that Liam was totally off-limits felt like a dagger to the heart. To be honest, before that moment, I’d never thought of him strictly as a mentor or coach.

He would always be Liam Wilder, bad boy of soccer, and breaker-of-hearts. But that couldn’t continue. I knew he was untouch-able. So why did it hurt so bad to be reminded of that fact?

"I understand,” I responded lamely, keeping my gaze on the edge of her desk.

Why didn't she need to warn Becca and Tara about this as well? He could be having a relationship with any of us.

"All right. Go get ready for practice, Bryant. We have lots of work to do," she dismissed me, and I shuffled out in silence. Had 158/890

she given Liam the same warning? Was he annoyed that the media was trying to pin the two of us together? He had enough negative media coverage as is and he didn’t need me adding to it.

I walked out toward the field in silence, weighing the new information in my mind.

Would Liam treat me differently now?

Should I act like I didn’t see the interview at all?

It turns out I shouldn’t have worried.

Liam wasn't at practice that day. He was probably flying home from New York, but I told myself I didn’t care. I focused on practice and pushed my body until I knew I was playing the best soccer that I could. It felt good to know that my end goal was so close.

I just had to stay focused. I had to make sure 159/890

that for the next few months I was concentrating solely on soccer.

Olympics, watch the fuck out, Becca and I… and sure, maybe Tara, are coming your way.

I got my first taste of blood-hungry reporters after practice that day. They were out in the parking lot, hovering around our cars with their clapping lenses and giant microphones. I walked toward them, while simultaneously hitting the unlock button on my car.

“Kinsley!— Kinsley Bryant!— Can we get a quick question—Becca—Becca?!” They were clamoring over one another to be heard, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before Coach Davis shooed them away. They were relentless. Even as I ignored them and kept 160/890

walking to my car, their questions pierced the air, too loud and obnoxious to ignore.

They asked about Liam Wilder and his Tonight Show appearance; I answered quickly with either “yes” or “no” and then pushed past them. They didn’t give up, though, and kept pestering us as we hopped into my car and locked the doors.