I chewed on my bottom lip as I scanned over the documents, suddenly wishing I had my mother here with me. Signing contracts of any kind feels intimidating.

"Did you already sign yours?" I asked, glancing up at Josh.

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"Just before you got here. It looked fine to me," he shrugged and offered me a small smile.

"You take your time, Kinsley. I'll go get you both some coffee."

Brian wandered off and I tried my best to read the details of the contract. It was brief and simple enough, so I signed on the dotted line and then pushed the paperwork back toward Brian's side of the table.

"How have you been?" Josh asked, leaning toward me. I saw the photographer's camera shutter open and close in quick succession. I guess the photographs started immediately upon signing the contract.

I leaned away from Josh so that it’d be harder to get us in the same frame.

"Fine. Just really busy."

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He smiled and reached out to touch the back of my chair. "You're obviously doing well if the magazine wants to interview you."

I smiled tightly and nodded. Thankfully Brian returned right then, saving me from anymore awkward small talk.

"Here you go, you two," Brian said, handing us our coffee and flashing me his giant smile. He’d blind people with those teeth if he wasn’t careful.

"Thank you." I smiled tightly and concentrated on pouring cream and sugar into my mug while Brian fiddled with the paperwork and set out a recorder.

"I'm going to start recording now, if that's all right?"

Josh and I both agreed.

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The interview passed quickly and I learned early on that I didn't have anything to worry about. The questions were similar to the ones that Brian had sent the other day.

I answered them the way that Coach Davis and I agreed upon. Toward the end, Brian started asking questions about my relationship with Josh. I answered simply, routing around our messy breakup and focusing more on our friendship. Josh, thankfully, followed suit.

"That was great, you two. Thank you so much. Let's get a few photographs and then we'll be all done here."

…

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As soon as I left the coffee shop I texted Liam to let him know about the last minute change.

Kinsley: Josh was at the interview.

Liam: What? Why?

Kinsley: They wanted to highlight two rookies instead of one. It seemed okay. I read the contract before I signed.

Liam: You should have called me or Coach Davis.

Kinsley: Why?

Liam: I don't trust reporters – I'm about to have dinner with my coaches. We'll talk later.

For a split second I was angry with Liam for being dramatic… but then his concerns set in. He’d been a part of this industry for years, so maybe I should have run the new 471/890

interview style with him or Coach Davis first, but I hadn’t even thought about it.

The worst part was that Liam was absolutely right. Later that night, Emily ran into my room with wide eyes and her computer cradled in her arms. Becca and I had been watching Bridesmaids, but we paused it when we saw the look on her face.

"Did you have that interview today?" she asked warily.

I sat up off the bed. "Yes, earlier. Why?"

She twisted her computer around and showed me the front page of a popular sports website.

" Romance

Between

Olympic

Hopefuls" was spelled out in giant letters across the top of the screen. The photo that accompanied it made me want to throw up.

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Josh had his arm around the back of my chair and we were both smiling wide. The worst part of all was that he was glancing toward me affectionately. While at the time, I’d wanted to kick the legs out from under his chair, to the untrained eye, the photo was damning evidence.

"What the hell!?" I shouted, hopping off my bed to get a better view. I had to hand it to the magazine. In less than four hours they’d started putting up teasers and photos to promote the article that would run sometime in the next few days. Those scumbags were timely.

"That fucking reporter! This article was supposed to be about soccer, not about me and Josh."

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I wound my fingers through my hair and squeezed my eyes shut.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Liam was right. Reporters were not to be trusted. On top of everything else going on, I could now add this article to the top of the list.

I snatched my phone, called my mom, and filled her in.

"Can we fight it?" I asked, pacing back and forth as Becca and Emily watched on with shocked expressions.

"We'll have to wait and see what the article talks about. Perhaps they wanted to play up a potential romance in the teasers so that the article will be more popular. Don't worry about this. The photo was harmless and you look beautiful. Try and get some sleep and 474/890

we'll deal with everything once we know more."

"I just feel so used, Mom. They said it would be about soccer and my tryouts. I'm beginning to realize that no one actually cares about my soccer career. They're making me famous the same way reality stars are famous. Kim, Khloe, Kourtney, and Kinsley!”

"Don't you think that's all the more reason to focus on the Olympic tryouts? Remember this when you're pushing yourself to train harder. I think it's best if we steer clear of any more articles and I'll have your father's PR people release a statement explaining that you're single and your main focus right now is on soccer and nothing else.

We'll clear this up."

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I sighed, already feeling better. "Okay, thanks Mom."

"Love you, hang in there. It'll get better."

When I hung up, Becca and Emily didn't say a word. They were both looking for me to make the first move.

"Let's pretend that this isn't happening and go back to watching the show."

"Sounds like a plan," Becca nodded and hit play. I went back to my bed, grabbed the covers, and huddled underneath them. For the rest of the night, I pretended that my life was very simple, like all that I had to focus on was laughing at the jokes on Bridesmaids and hanging out with my two friends.

I would not become Kinsley Kardashian.

…

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The full article was released the next day and was plastered across every website I could find, from TMZ to the New York Times. I didn't bother reading it. I knew it would be bad based on the accompanying photos.

They'd cropped and manipulated every single one to make it appear as if Josh and I were together. A happy, Olympic couple. Gag me. Or better yet, gag Josh.

I'd let my father's PR team take care of it from my end. They'd release the statement about the false claims and I'd worry about the things I could actually control, which at that point was one thing: soccer.

I went to the fields early and ran sprints.

I did some weight training and tried to use all my pent up energy on something 477/890

productive. By the time practice started, I was pensive and tired.

Liam was in a terrible mood as well, worse than I'd ever seen before. When we split up into positions, he was snappy with all of us. His mood was distracting me and I kept mixing up the formations.

Finally, he snapped at me. "Kinsley, get your head in the game. This isn't that hard, and you've had all summer to work on it."

His tone was harsh and a few of the girls stood watching him with a gaping mouth.

Tara, who was only a few feet behind me, muttered, "Uh oh, are the lovers fighting?"