Happy pride my lovely reader! Here is a gift from a corner of my heart <3
XOXO SkylerLuv
******
This is going to get dirty.
I spit on the muddy grass and see blood splat all over it.
Great.
"Watch your fucking back, number eight!" Trinity yells across the field and comes to my side.
"Fucking hell." I spit again and check for all my teeth.
Even though it's night time and the field lights aren't the best, I can see my blood painting each blade of grass with crimson.
"I forgot to warn you about her." She looks down the field, glaring at the girl from the opposing team.
While Trinity and I are close in height, just under six feet, number eight is a small thing. She has been dribbling circles around our defense as if it is all a game to her. Which, technically, is just a game. A futbol game, to be specific, but she seems to be having fun just showing off. We play an adult league and even though most of us just do it for fun, some of us do like the competitive aspect. There are a few here and there who take it more seriously than others. And then there are those who know they're good and want to rub it in everyone's face.
I use the underside of my sweaty shirt to clean my mouth.
"I'm good." I keep my eyes open for the same girl in case she wants to jam her head against my face again.
Trinity nods and goes back out to her space.
She plays midfield. Unlike myself, she likes running around and trying to assist all positions at once. I play defense, which means I stay in my area and turn into a wall when the opposing team tries to sneak by to score a goal. We met in high school when I used to play left wing. That position has players that play on the edge of the field running up and down waiting for their moment to assist. She has only ever played midfield and will continue to do so until she retires. We played for our high school team, varsity, for all four years. And because we loved the sport so much, we also played on opposing travel teams outside of it but remained friends all throughout all four years. It was during college that we got to play for the same team and solidified the positions we play now.
Trinity loves running, I love defending.
Going pro was a possibility for us. I know Trinity's parents hoped she would take that passion for the sport and start making some actual money out of it. All that they invested throughout the years was expected to return a profit at some point. And then after we graduated, she met her wife, who is a doctor. Years later they have a six and a two-year-old. I personally never imagined her as a housewife. She is a mean machine on the field but when it comes to her babies, she is as cuddly as a teddy bear. Or a real bear if anyone ever messes with them and the claws need to come out.
Trinity is all fit, dark skin, long box braids. Her wife is light skinned with gorgeous curly hair but barely reaches her chest. They looked like best friends the first time I was introduced to her, Brandy. And they were friends for a while, until Trinity just had to go and fall and love. They're still each other's best friends, which I don't mind since they absolutely deserve each other.
And then there is me.
Tall, tan, short brown hair.
I have always looked like a soccer player and nothing has changed much after graduating. The biggest change being that I only play on the weekends now. I give private lessons to snooty high school kids who aren't naturally gifted but since their parents are loaded with money, they can afford to learn the skills they weren't born with. If I was asked what my life would be like after college, I wouldn't have guessed this.
Yet, life has an interesting way of fucking up any plans one might have.
Rocky, or Roxanne, goes in to stop number eight when she comes back to our side of the field. She's a cocky little forward, aka person who scores, but there is also an evil grin when she approaches a player. There is definitely a chip on her shoulder and she is out for blood in this game. I don't think I've ever played against her.
She pretends to think about her next move and waits until Rocky is close enough to yank on her copper red hair.
"That's bullshit!" I yell at the referee who missed the dirty play.
One of the other girls from the opposing team is distracting him with some sob story about her cleats falling apart. The ref looks my way and then back at number eight who shoots and scores. Rocky is on the floor, holding her scalp, tears coming out of her eyes.
"She just yanked on her hair!" I get close to him and point at the culprit.
She flips her blonde hair as she runs by with a smirk on her lips.
"Are you alright?" The ref goes down to check on Rocky.
"If you were doing your fucking job, you would have seen that she was assaulted by the same girl who has been throwing elbows and playing dirty all game!" I help Rocky up and then glare at him. "She needs to be kicked out of the game."
He puts both hands up and I see annoyance creep into his eyes. "I haven't seen any fouls-"
"Because you haven't been paying attention, like a fucking idiot!" My anger has caught up to me and I see Trinity coming from the corner of my eye.
Same song, same dance. I lose my lid after trying to keep my cool and she comes in trying to smooth things out. Except this time, it's a little too late.
He blows his whistle and pulls out a red card. "You're not going to curse on my field."
"Now you want to kick someone out?" I shout over the girls from my team coming to my defense. "Where the fuck was that red flag three seconds ago?"
He's flooded with a sea of purple jerseys, some trying to reason with him and others trying to drag me off. I hear our coach yell my name from downfield and that stops some of my yelling. I should have slapped that little bitch when I had the chance. I look over and see her laughing behind her hand with her teammate.
Trinity takes my arm, knowing what I intend to do, and redirects me toward our bench.
Coach shakes his head when we finally reach him and presses a water bottle against my stomach. "We had this." He's seething but he's trying to keep it together.
He's a fit, older, bald guy that loves the sport as much as we do. He was close to making it as a pro himself and then had a debilitating injury that killed his dreams of ever playing for another team again. Isn't that how all the tragic stories surrounding coaches go? Unlike most other has-beens though, he is a man of means. A trust fund kid, now an adult, who can afford to coach a women's soccer team for the hell of it and make a little money when we actually do win. Not that he needs it, it is a drop in an Olympic-sized pool to him.
I see the passion in his eyes when we train twice a week and then play on the weekend. He is meticulous with his coaching style and treats us as if we were a professional team. I've often wondered why he wouldn't invest in an actual good team or interview to coach a pro team and then I remember his personality. He doesn't really like people. He tolerates us, when we do good at least, and then turns into a hot head when shit hits the fan.
A typical futbol aficionado.
