Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 116132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
"I'm not sure I've got it. Will you watch me do it one more time?" she asked with just the right amount of needy pout.
Liam pressed his lips into a thin line but nodded for her to continue.
"Oh my god. Enough," I mumbled, tired of watching the Tara and Liam Show.
I must have said it louder than I thought though because Tara looked up at me before she started. "Excuse me?" she asked, taking a step closer to me.
"Enough with this drill, I need a water break," I lied, propping my hands up on my hips and daring her to challenge me. I was in a fighting mood, and in that moment I didn't care that she was the leader and I was the rookie.
"Go take one then. But you really should work on your endurance."
I fought the urge to ask her what the hell needing water had to do with my endurance. I'd beat her at every single one of our sprints and I came in first during our long distance warm up runs every time.
"Okay, c'mon, let's focus," Liam said, staring at Tara. He couldn't even look me in the eye. Fucking coward.
"Did you want to show me that drill?" he asked Tara, but before she turned around, she flashed me a smug grin and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder.
"Sure thing, Coach Wilder."
At that point I pretty much blacked out for the remainder of practice. I pushed myself beyond what felt good because I wanted to work out all my annoyance and anger. Coach Davis joked about me being an overachiever at the end of practice, but I couldn't even muster a smile.
…
"Finally, you answer!" my mom said as I fell back on my bed. I'd had lunch and showered after practice, but now my muscles were starting to ache and an afternoon nap was calling my name.
"I know, I'm sorry. I've been busy lately. I just got back from practice and I'm exhausted."
I held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pulled the covers up to my chin.
"Ah, I won't keep you long. I wanted to talk to you because there have been quite a few companies calling us lately with endorsement deals for you. I know you can’t take them up on their offers while you’re playing for the NCAA, but there's Adidas and Nike, as well as a few other big ones."
That was the last thing I was thinking about at the moment, but she was right. I had to consider my career beyond college at some point. After all, if I made the Olympic team college would be put on hold.
"Would you mind just saving them for now?"
"Sounds good.”
After we hung up I rolled over and plugged my phone into charge. Then I grabbed my calendar off my nightstand and flipped through the worn pages. Last time I checked there was exactly ten months until the Olympics tryouts. Now there was nine months, two weeks, and one day.
I threw off my blanket, ran down the hall, and barged into Becca's room.
"C'mon, let's go," I demanded.
She was sitting at her desk, scrolling through Facebook. "What? Where? We just got home."
"Let's do some strength training. We didn't do much of that at practice today."
Becca groaned, but stood up and closed her laptop. "You're a freaking drill sergeant."
"Don't you want to stand a chance at tryouts?"
"Yes, but I also really want to not move for the rest of the day," Becca laughed.
"Rest is for the dead, Becca!"
We ended up working out hard, and then crawling onto the couch and not moving the rest of the day. Despite what Coach Davis and Liam said, the chance of me making the Olympic team was really slim. They scouted girls from every college and every professional team in the country, and then they selected the top players and invited them to tryout. My goal for now was to play the best soccer I could at ULA and hope to get that invitation in nine months.
It was the perfect distraction from the thoughts about Liam trying to weasel their way into my consciousness.
…
"He completely ignored you at practice yesterday?" Becca asked.
"Not even a peep in my direction. I think he’s done with me," I answered as Becca and I headed to my car Tuesday morning.
"I assure you, he is not done with you. He's clearly doing it on purpose... maybe you should make it impossible for him to ignore you."
"How? Attacking him at practice?" I laughed.
"No. More subtle than that." She squinted in thought. "It'll be hot today... I think practicing in your sports bra would be completely acceptable."
I grunted. "Oh, yeah, really subtle. Maybe you should have given me that advice before I put on a neon pink sports bra this morning."
Becca cheered, practically hopping off her seat. "That's even better! I'll do it too so he doesn't think you're doing it on purpose."