Gimme Everything You Got - Iva-Marie Palmer Page 0,70
Then he stopped walking in perfect view of our rooms. I held my breath, willing everyone to stay put until I gave the all-clear.
Bobby shook his head. “Who am I kidding, it’s not just a game. Winning would be so great.” He sighed. “That sounded wrong. I mean, if the team gets a win tomorrow, you’ll know what it feels like. I can’t explain why it’s a big deal, but it’s about more than a mark in the W column. You’ll get to carry it around with you, always. Especially as the first girls’ soccer team at our school.”
I heard a noise overhead, and Bobby flinched. How easy it would be to distract him by kissing him. I was maybe almost tipsy enough to do it—I felt a little light from the half shot and half beer I’d had over the course of the party—but I wasn’t crazy. He had a faraway look in his eye, and it made me want to understand what he was thinking.
“Why did you want to coach soccer, anyway?”
Bobby grinned. “When I got the teaching job, they offered me a spot as an assistant football coach. But soccer is my passion, for one, and two, this was a chance at starting something brand-new. A women’s team. And, okay, I’m going to sound extremely nerdy now, but did you know that there’s evidence that people played soccer in the second or third century? And not just men. Women, too. Not the game we know today, but a version of it.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
“Really. And we know through history that women have done things that are thought to be only for men, but women had soccer way back then. They had it again in England much later, and then in 1921 the Football Association—they call it football in England—banned women from the game.”
“That sucks,” I said. “But . . . what does that have to do with us?”
“Everything,” Bobby said. He was excited now, like a scientist in a movie who’d just made a huge discovery. It was cute. “Playing this game is for you. All of you. And I don’t want to sound like I’m some hero, giving soccer back to you, but I like to think I’m an accomplice to helping you take it back.”
“Well, thank you,” I said. I had no idea that behind all his motivational speeches was this person so thoughtful about every aspect of the game. Dorky history and all.
“No, thank you,” he said. “I think you have a great shot at winning tomorrow, and that’s thrilling, but I’m even more excited because you all playing might mean other girls will want to play, too.”
“So your speeches would be different if you’d taken the football team coaching spot?” I asked him, almost teasing, as we resumed walking in the direction of the motel office.
With an almost devilish look, he said, “I wouldn’t bother as much. Especially with the guys on our team. But mostly because boys take opportunities for granted.”
I thought of the party. He definitely could not find out about it. “We’re going to work hard to get a win. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”
“I want you to get the win for you,” he said softly. “You need to know how good it feels.” That comment sent a wave of feeling to my pelvis. But the way he said it also allowed me to imagine winning in a much more complete way than I’d been able to until now. A win would feel like someone had replaced my normal blood and guts with a golden inner grace, or maybe a calming pleasure, like after an orgasm. Or both. I let out a breath as he held the door to the office for me and told the manager my situation. The manager looked from Bobby to me and back to Bobby. He thought we were a couple, I realized, and blushed.
The manager slid a new key over. “Twenty bucks if we need to replace a key,” he said. “So I hope you find it.”
“I know where it is, just locked myself out by accident,” I said, trying to cement my story.
I walked back outside, and even though I didn’t hear any noise coming from the room, I knew that every second I tried to stretch out my time with Bobby was a second more when he could find out what we were really up to.