"I walked in on him cheating on me a few weeks ago.” I paused as Becca and Emily gasped Jerry Springer style. “We’d been friends for a long time, but only dated for a 59/890

few months. He sucks major cojones, and we aren't getting back together. He still probably has that Bimbo on retainer."

"But he's really cute," Becca cut in.

"He's hot, but there's hotter..."

"Liam," Becca and Emily both inserted, and we started laughing all over again.

"You should date Liam to get back at Josh. Could you even imagine?" Becca started rambling. "If there is anyone on the team who even has a chance at dating him, it's definitely you.”

“Oh please,” I said, rolling my eyes at the idea.

“No, I mean it! Who gets offered sponsorships from Adidas when they're in high school? Beautiful people like you." She fake 60/890

rolled her eyes and then I grabbed a pillow and bonked it on her head.

"Hey! What the—"

"I'm not dating Liam to get back at Josh," I laughed, hitting her again.

“So date him to not get back at Josh,” she suggested.

I bonked her on the head again.

"So help me, you're about to start something you don't want to finish," Becca laughed, grabbing a pillow of her own.

Poor Emily was right in the crossfire.

"Emily, here take my pillow." I paused, eyeing Becca with a small wink. Her smile told me she understood my wicked plan.

"Oh thanks, I thought you guys—"

61/890

She didn't get to finish her sentence before Becca and I, how should I say, brought the pillow pain train into the station.

"What the fuck, guys!" Emily screamed and laughed, trying to break free. She eventually did and ended up almost knocking me out with a perfectly timed pillow punch.

"Mercy! Jeez Emily, you're quiet and cute, but then you almost break my neck with a pillow. I am now officially scared of you," I joked as Emily and Becca sat on top of me so that I couldn't move. "But in all seriousness, my birthday would have sucked without you two. I'm really glad you'll both be on the soccer team with me."

Becca answered my sweet declaration by smothering me under my goose down comforter. Girls are vicious.

62/890

After they eventually wandered back to their own rooms, I laid awake contemplating what tomorrow would have in store. I knew it was going to be a rude awakening for all of us rookies. We were the top athletes in high school, but starting tomorrow we’d be small fish in a big pond. The workouts would be harder, the practices would be longer, and the coaches would apparently be much, much hotter.

I checked my phone for last minute birthday messages. Every hour on the hour, my mom had sent me a text. Her last one had come at eleven.

Mom: Kinsley Grace, I'm so proud of all that you've accomplished. I really wish we could have flown in to be with you for the day, but I knew you'd want to spend the day 63/890

with your new friends. I mailed you a care package, and if you didn't receive it today, it'll definitely be there tomorrow. Hope you love it. You're a rock star. Good luck tomorrow. XO

Josh: Kinsley, please text me back. I'm so sorry and I know you need time to process everything, but I made a mistake and I want you back. Please consider it. Love u.

I groaned and dropped my phone back on the nightstand. Did he love me? Could he truly love me? If he loved me so much, couldn’t he have spelled out the word you? I prayed for his sake, and mine, that he didn't.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. There were no excuses. He wasn't drunk or under the influence; his cheating was premeditated and I'd bet my life that it 64/890

wasn't the first time. The thought of getting revenge by sleeping with Liam sounded good for about thirty seconds, and then I thought about the fact that I didn't really care about Josh enough to go through all of that to spite him. Now if there was some other reason to sleep with Liam Wilder...

…

"Hey, wake up or you won't have time to eat before practice. Oh, and you have a giant package downstairs." Becca's voice pulled me out of deep sleep and I groaned loudly. Hangover, meet brain. Brain, meet hangover.

"God, this sucks." I groaned again and shoved myself out of bed. I didn't have time to be hung-over. I had to eat breakfast and get hydrated for practice. I followed Becca 65/890

downstairs where my tired teammates were sitting around in their pajamas eating breakfast and looking like really in-shape zombies.

Scary.

The clock on top of the stove read 5:30

A.M. Jeez, this would be a long summer.

Practices started at 6:00 A.M. Monday through Friday for the foreseeable future.

"There she is!" Emily called as I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. "Open your package!"

"Is there a stripper in the box?" I asked as I walked toward the kitchen table.

As I bent over the package, Becca caught my eye and mouthed, "It's Liam". I stuck my tongue out at her and started ripping the tape off.

66/890

My mom is extravagant and since she can afford it, she usually gives gifts that are way too over the top. That day was no exception. Inside of the box there was enough soccer gear to clothe the entire team. She'd sent me new sports bras, running shorts, leggings, dri-FIT shirts that would fit me like a glove, and some new HYPERVENOM

cleats that weren't supposed to be released for another month. Oh, and they were bright pink. My mom knew me well.

"Are those what I think they are?" Becca asked, eyeing the cleats with envy.

"I have no clue how she got these, but somehow I'm not surprised."

Like they would for most girls, getting new shoes and clothes momentarily trumped my hangover. I ran up to my room and put 67/890

on a new matching set of workout gear before I grabbed my phone to text my mom.

Kinsley: THANK YOU for the birthday gifts. It's too much, but I'll give my teammates some of the gear, too. I'll call you after practice. XX

By the time I finished getting ready, I had to grab a granola bar to eat on the road.

"Here, I bet you didn't remember these,"

Emily said, handing me two Advil.

"Yes! Thank you, thank you." The excitement of my new workout gear was starting to pale in comparison to my serious hangover.

The granola bar and bumpy car ride hadn't settled my stomach, and by the time we made it to the practice field, I felt like I was going to throw up everywhere.

68/890

The seniors met us at the doors to the soccer field house with wicked smiles.

"Looking a little worse for wear there, Rookies," Tara laughed, her eyes pinned straight on me. "How you feeling, Bryant?"

Her question seemed sweet, but her tone implied that it wasn't meant to be.

"Peachy." I smiled and reached down to grab my water out of my bag.

"Let's go. Coach wants to meet us in the conference room." Tara turned and opened the door so we could file in behind her. But just before she stepped inside, I heard the same sexy voice that I’d heard the previous night— the voice that said, I'm sexy and I know it.

"Morning ladies."

69/890

Every single girl froze and we turned in unison. Liam Wilder was standing a few feet away wearing workout gear and a friendly smile. Of course his friendly smile could easily be misconstrued for a take-your-panties-off smile, so it's a wonder we all managed to mutter shocked hellos. I guess he'd pulled up in the parking lot a few minutes after we did.

I peered behind him and saw a black Mer-cedes SUV parked in the spot closest to the field house. A photographer was snapping pictures on the other side of the fence. Jeez, they wake up this early to get pictures of him?