"Morning, Coach." I smiled and took a seat near the front of the small room with Becca and Emily.
After the rest of the team filed in, Coach Davis began to fill us in about practices and what she expected of us throughout the season.
"As you probably noticed, we have a new coach this morning," she began, and I could practically feel everyone's ears perk up to attention.
Coach Davis scanned around the room with a stern expression. "Coach Wilder will be with us for a few months. However, he'll only be with us during the morning drills because he has his own team's practices in the afternoon."
"Why's he here?" one of the junior girls asked.
"Every LA Stars player volunteers. Liam has helped our program in the past, and I didn’t hesitate to have him back again this year. Any other questions?"
"Why isn't he coaching the boy's team?" Sofie asked from the back row where the seniors had quarantined themselves.
"One of our assistant coaches is on maternity leave, so when the LA Stars contacted me, I thought it was a perfect time to bring him on. He's a top soccer player and he’ll be a source of knowledge for all of you. However, I still feel the need to clarify that he is not here for your personal entertainment. Please use your judgment when it comes to any fraternization away from practice... I have no problem kicking you off this team faster than you can count that man's tattoos."
His tattoos. The same tattoos that I’d asked to see the night before. Okay, the universe was taunting me.
"So I shouldn't tackle him on the soccer field?" Becca whispered behind me, and I almost laughed in the middle of Coach Davis' speech.
"Um, Coach," Tara raised her hand in the air so that she'd be seen from the back, "some of us know Liam outside of practice. We're friends with the LA Stars' players, so we'll see him at parties."
Coach Davis nodded but kept her cool facade. "You’ll refer to him as Coach Wilder while we’re here,” she clarified with a hard tone. “I understand that a few of you run in the same circle as Coach Wilder and avoiding him completely would be impossible. However, I’d like you to distance yourself from him in social settings until he is no longer a coach here."
A knock sounded at the door and a second later Liam stepped in quietly. "Are you ready for me?"
Yes. Yes. Yes. We are all ready for you.
"Good timing, Coach Wilder. Please come in and introduce yourself. I'm going to go set up drills out on the field. You can meet me out there with the girls in about ten minutes.” She headed for the door, but my eyes were trained on the space she’d last occupied. “Oh, and girls, be sure to leave Saturday morning open. We have a team bonding activity. We'll meet here at 7:00 A.M. sharp."
I didn't even register her team bonding comment. I was more concerned about what she'd said before that.
"Drills?" I whispered to Becca. I'd worn my workout clothes, but it was only because that's what I wore on most days anyway. I thought today was just a learning day.
"Do you still feel sick?" she asked with a wary gaze.
"Like a small toddler is smashing a toy truck onto my head," I answered as Liam took his position at the front of the room.
"Hi everyone. I'm not sure how much Coach Davis has told you, but I'll be with the team for the next couple of months. I'll help you guys with morning drills, and since I've played as a midfielder and striker for most of my career, those are the positions I'll be working with the most."
Oh goodie. He'd be helping me perfect my skills as a midfielder. Unfortunately, about ten other girls also fit that bill, including Tara and Sofie. Becca and Emily were both defenders, so I wouldn't even have them to joke around with.
"Does anyone have any questions for me?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Becca whispered beside me, and I kicked her under the table.
Liam must have noticed her whisper because he glanced over toward us. His grey eyes met mine and I almost choked on my own tongue. It was the first time we'd made eye contact since he arrived that morning and I should have given myself more of a pep talk. He's a normal person. Don't let him take over your brain. It was no use. He wore his black t-shirt in a way that made me lose focus on everything beyond his reach. His tattoos were just barely visible. His hair was mussed on top like he'd run his fingers through it when he’d rolled out of bed.
And I was expected to concentrate when he was around?
Chapter Four