A Promise Gone Wrong

Chapter Six: Secrets

IMAGE OF: JACK HESSE (heh-see)

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My heart is racing, ears are ringing, and skin is dripping, making my hair feel like a beanie because I'm on fire.

"Run the drills again," Coach shouts over us, blowing his shrill whistle in short bursts as the guys hurry to line back up behind a series of cones and scattered soccer balls.

We end up working on dribbles and ball control for the next half hour before Coach tells Pat to get in a net so we can practice taking shots.

He's not usually a goalie but Jack kept telling him that he wouldn't ever be able to block one of his shots, so they convinced Coach to put him in the box.

"If he blocks it I'm going to literally roll on the ground laughing," Cody cups a hand by my ear to whisper as we watch Jack dribble the ball to a spot on the grass before settling it with the toe of his shoe.

In the goalie net, Pat does a few hops in a horizontal line before squatting and raising his hands to prepare himself.

"Five bucks he makes the shot," Dylan places a bet with Cody who then shakes his hand.

I lean an elbow on Cody's shoulder, hoping Pat is able to block the shot as well but only because I want to see him do one of his signature victory laps around the field.

However, Jack is one of our best forwards. The guy's aim is so accurate that I swear his feet are sniper rifles. For a while I thought I was going to have to fight him for the position of midfielder, but to my luck he didn't want it. He doesn't care much for leadership roles with the only exception being when it comes to sex of course.

Clearing my thoughts, I hold my breath as Jack takes a moment to pick his mark, his tall, lean physique as still as a statue with his foot on top of the ball. Then, he combs his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face before swiftly striking the ball, sending it with a curve into the top left of the net just out of Pat's reach.

"Damn it," Cody whines, and Jack turns to flash him a middle finger before jogging off to the back of the line.

"That's what you get for being a hater," Dylan laughs, and goes next but kicks the ball to a lower place that Pat blocks with ease.

Cody goes next and makes his shot, kicking the ball hard enough to make it whizz through the air and rattle the poles of the net.

Then it's my turn and I almost make my shot as well hut Pat gives two attempts to stop it from crossing the line and it pays off when he traps the ball to the ground.

The rest of the guys and I comment on Pat's goalie skills as more of our teammates struggle to get shots past him, and the cocky guy starts taunting people now that he's got a handful of blocks under his belt.

"I envy his self-esteem," Dylan shakes his head when Pat starts shaking his butt and lifting up his shirt as he does small victory dance gestures.

If we weren't in public I'm certain he would be stripping instead. The guy can't stay in his clothes to save his life.

"Don't," Jack scoffs. "He's just got his head in the clouds because he got his bet to sleep with him last night. If she had turned him down we'd be burying him."

I chuckle at that, knowing Pat really does act more of a hot mess after he's gotten laid. Still, it's nice to see him in such a good mood.

"Congrats by the way," Dylan turns to give me a pat on my shoulder. "I got your text about getting in a kiss with Rebecca."