Falling for the Goalie and Other Dangerous Sports

Chapter 40 - Maddy

Take a guess.

I should've stopped texting then, but I was just in a bad mood at the moment. Hannah had yelled at me for not waking her up to move to the bed, even though she was completely out on the couch. Plus, her rustling around to get ready for the college visit woke me up at six this morning. No, I demand you either tell me who you are or I won't talk to you.

C'mon, this is supposed to be a game. Have a little fun.

That was the last straw. I angrily locked my phone, stuffing shin guards, socks, and cleats into my soccer bag. I slipped it into the side pocket as I gathered some snacks and a water bottle, but it started to buzz sporadically. I grabbed the still buzzing bag off of my bed and headed out the hotel room door, key card in hand. Getting to the elevator, the buzzing still hadn't stopped. I finally opened the continuous texts.

W

H

Y

W

O

N

'

T

Y

O

U

P

L

A

Y

A

L

O

N

G

?

God, I was going to kill whoever this was when I found out. I sent back a sharp Stop texting me.

No, not until you guess who I am.

I wanted to kick the elevator wall, but I restrained myself. Once I find out, I'm going to hunt you down and beat you senseless.

Relax, god. It's not that hard. The elevator door opened and I headed towards the breakfast bar.

Then who am I?

Maddy Gray.

I stopped walking. This person knew me. I had to know them. They were just messing with me. They were messing with me, it wasn't that douchebag goalie, it wasn't some nasty guy from another team or that bitch from Oxford.

I sent a message and started walking again. How do you know my name? And who gave you my number?

This isn't as hard as you're making it out to be. But it'd go smoother if you just started guessing names or asking more relevant questions.

I got in line for food. Fine. Do I know you?

Yes, of course. Rather well, might I add.

Picking up an orange juice and some syrup, I moved through the line. Do you play soccer?

Yep. I'm even giving hints, how sad.

Are you a boy?

Yep. Keep going, you'll get there in twenty years.

I put a couple of pieces of French toast on my plate before responding. Are you on my team?