Page 142 of Kulti

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“Mija,” my daughter, “Do what’s best for you. Always.”

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One!”

My arm was shaking as I finally let it collapse. Push-ups, freaking push-ups.

One-armed push-ups were the damned devil. I groaned and rolled onto my back, flopping my arms out at my sides to loosen them up, but it wasn’t helping much. I’d spent the last three afternoons in a row playing with Franz Koch, and the guy wore me out. Add that to two days of work and practice. It would tire anyone out.

“Thirty seconds, ladies!” Phyllis, the psychopath fitness coach, yelled.

Oh God.

“Fifteen seconds!”

I rolled back onto my belly and planted both hands down flat on the ground, feeling the short crunch of turf under my palms.

“Five seconds! Get into plank position if you aren’t already in it!”

She was insane.

“Up! Into a wide stance! Down! I better see your chests touching the floor!” she hollered, walking through the multiple bodies lowering themselves, myself included. My arms burned as I went down, biceps and shoulders being lit on fire. “Casillas! Do I see your arms shaking? Because I know I don’t see your arms shaking!”

I gritted my teeth together and dropped even lower to the ground, arms trembling and everything, but I’d be damned if I stopped.

Especially when Phyllis started bellowing, “Roberts! Glover! You better get those scrawny arms under you and get yourselves up. This isn’t high school P.E.! Get up!”

High school P.E.?

The two minutes straight of push-ups had me gasping for breath by the time we were finished. I pulled my knees under me and finally got to my feet with a tired huff.

“You had more in you,” someone chipped in as they walked by.

I glanced up to find that it was the German making such a lovely observation.

He was too far away for me to return a comment, so I kept it to myself and got to my feet. The fact he hadn’t spoken more than five words to me since the day of the kid’s camp had grated on my nerves, big time. I hadn’t done anything to piss him off besides try to play around, and he’d shut down. If he was pissed about that, then he needed to get the heck over it. We spent most days together, and all of a sudden, nothing?

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

What was I doing? Really?

I loved playing. I didn’t love the drama that went with it. I’d been doing this long enough to know that no association was perfect and no team was without its bad seeds, but…

“You all right, Sally?” Harlow asked with a slap to my back.

I nodded at my friend. “I’m good, just a little tired. You?”

“I’m always good,” she claimed. “You sure you’re okay, though? You’ve been looking a little pissed off.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Some of these girls though… they try my patience, Har. That’s all.”

The defender nodded, her lips puckered as she did it. “Ignore ‘em, Sally. They’re not worth it. You do what you gotta do and leave the rest up to other people to deal with.” She slapped me on the back once more. “Now tell me about this Alejandro that went to your camp. Is his rear end as big in person as it looks on TV?”

That had me laughing. “Oh yeah.”

She let out a low whistle. “That ass, Sal. Whew. I’m not gonna even lie, I was a little jealous you didn’t tell me he was going to your thing. I would have shown up with a lawn chair and popcorn.”

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “Next time I need you somewhere I’ll make sure there’s a big ol’ butt so you have some incentive to show up.”

Harlow laughed.


Tags: Mariana Zapata Romance