Chapter 5: First Meet Foul: Chapter 5

The three words best used to describe me were dedicated, movie-obsessed, and superstitious. Not like a cute little make a wish on a yellow light person. More of a… I wouldn’t wash my socks if I kept playing well or my sports bra. I’d do the same pre-game ritual every time or I convinced myself I’d have a bad game. I’d make sure to take the same walk to the field, listen to the same four songs, and wear my hair the same.

I took no chances in messing up the universe. If that meant my socks smelled a little but my stats kept getting better, then that was a small price to pay. Did I also kiss my lucky penny I found when I was seven at the zoo? Sure did. Everything was set, except I needed to grab a snack before our game at 1.

Protein and hydration were key.

Despite playing soccer for fifteen years, the pre-game nerves never went away. I could feel my pulse all the way to my toes, and the adrenaline… I might be a junkie for it. The rush? The way my senses went into overdrive? I craved it.

I felt similar about horror movies in October, but that was different.

Mack: I hate Angela’s face.

I snickered at Mack’s text. Her ex-boyfriend from high school had cheated on her with one of the players we faced later, and yeah, don’t let anyone tell you men’s soccer was rougher. The women’s game was filthy, and Mack might have a sweet face, but she’d leave a body on the field if she could.

Lo: Channel that anger bb.

Mack: It’s been three years, but I’m still so pissed.

Lo: Anger doesn’t have a time limit.

My ponytail sat high, the same elastic band fraying on the edge. It was my lucky one, and if it broke… no, I couldn’t think like that. Coach wanted us there hours early to talk strategy and make sure we were warmed up, mentally and physically.

I rolled my shoulders back a few times, a little stiffness on my leg arm from carrying those bags yesterday. Annoyed, I scoffed as I went through my bags to find some Tylenol. I would only take one to help, then after the game I’d ice and see our trainer. But where the hell was the medicine?

After a five-minute search of my stuff, I sighed. Someone else in the house would have to have some, but the thought of leaving my room sent a different kind of trepidation through me.

I didn’t want to run into Luca. At all.

Be brave, you little chicken. I chewed the center of my lip before saying screw it. I was a grown, strong woman, and yes, Luca made me nervous with his scowl and intimidating glare, but I’d run away from him. Yeah, great plan.

I could stare down a girl bigger than me on the field, so a grumpy uptight tight end would not make me cower.

With one final breath, I cracked my bedroom door open and relaxed. His door was cracked and his room empty. He was gone. I did a little jig of excitement just as Callum came up the stairs.

“Oh, hi there,” I said, flashing him a grin.

“What did I just witness? You filming a TikTok?” He chuckled and tossed something into his room before joining me. “You gotta get one of those ring lights and a stand, Lolo.”

My brows went up. “Lolo?”

“Shit. Is that… Dean always calls you that, so that’s how I picture you in my head. What do you prefer to be called?”

“Lolo is for people I’m close to, usually. Lo for my teammates.” The tingling of a blush started at my head and spread down to my fingers. “Lo is good. Lo is mature. Lolo makes me seem like I’m six years old again.”

“I hate when people call me Cally boy for the same reason. Like, I’m six four and grown, do I look like a Cally boy?”

Laughing, I shut my bedroom door. “Hey, do you have any Tylenol? I know I have some, but it’s become lost in the move. I have a game in a few hours and need to get rid of this damn tenderness in my left shoulder.”

He frowned. “Yeah, downstairs. I’ll show you.”

I followed him down the two flights of stairs. I always liked his easygoing vibe and soft eyes. We weren’t friends or anything, but every time I talked to him the last two years, he’d been kind. Even now, he didn’t glare at me for moving into their house.

“We have a cabinet in the kitchen with this shit. Tape, meds, a brace or two. It’s a little drugstore area.”

“Ah, perfect.”

He opened it, shuffled around some bottles, and pulled out a white one. “There you go, Lo.”

“See, better. Don’t feel young anymore.” I grinned, taking the meds from him. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” He ran a hand through his messy hair and eyed my arm. “Are you sore near your neck?”

“Yeah, right here.” I pointed to the spot just above my collarbone. Callum frowned and stepped closer. He smelled like sweat and laundry, and while it wasn’t a pleasant combination, it wasn’t bad. It reminded me of Dean and football camp growing up. “Why do you ask?”

“Want help?”

“What do you mean?”

“Give me your arm.” He jutted his chin toward my shoulder and held my bicep with one hand. His other hand came down on my collarbone, and he gently pressed his fingers on the tender muscle. “My trainer showed me this a few weeks ago. You’ll obviously need to work with your team’s trainer, but if I massage this—”

“Oh my lord,” I groaned, closing my eyes. “Yes, this feels ugnnn.”

“What are you doing?” An angry voice penetrated the air, the tone I knew belonged to my dear, wonderful new housemate. “Remember the rules.”

The temperate chilled, and I fought the urge to cringe. Luca. The protein bar I ate earlier churned in my gut, like I was guilty of something. But what? I’d done nothing wrong but exist.

“Lo has a knot in her shoulder. I’m helping her out before her game,” Callum said, his voice hesitant. His gaze flicked from Luca to mine, a line forming between his eyebrows. He didn’t say anything more, but the question lingered in the air.

Why had Luca yelled at us?

Also, what rules? What had Dean done?

The giant grump didn’t respond, but his retreating footsteps indicated his anger. I exhaled, letting out a nervous laugh. “He hates me if you can’t tell. Probably yelled because he doesn’t want my gross germs on you.”

I wanted to ask about the rule comment but refrained. I was pretty sure it involved Dean, and I already had a list of reasons to discuss with him later. This could be added on.

“Mm, not sure if that’s true.” He pressed my muscle three more seconds before releasing. “That looser?”

I moved my left arm in a circle, over my head and behind my back. “Oh yes. Much better.”

He looked smug, his chest puffed out and victory dancing in his eyes. “Good. Glad to assist.”

“Thank you. I could play with the pain but can’t risk pulling anything.”

Callum ran a hand over his jawline, his gaze moving toward the back of the kitchen where Luca had stormed out. “Luca is…intense. I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, but this is just a blip in his routine, and he never strays from it.”

“Dude, he really dislikes me.” My face warmed thinking about what transpired in just two days. “It’s fine. I can… handle it.”

Callum didn’t look pleased, and my stomach dropped. I didn’t want this to be a thing. I preferred no drama. That was Dean’s ask—zero drama, no messing with the guys. Easy to follow. Yet not even a full twenty-four hours in and there was the flicker of some. “For real, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

I nodded, hard.

“All right.” He stared at me for a second longer before flashing a playful, way-too-flirty grin. The switch was incredible. One second, he’d been concerned and friendly, then bam, oozing charm.

“Okay, none of that. Stop it right now.” I flicked between his eyebrows, earning a laugh out of him.

“Dayum, Dean mentioned you were off-limits, but I like a challenge.”

“Off-limits?” Ugh. I rolled my eyes. “I prefer guys who don’t smell like sweat and wear tighter pants than I do. That’s a hard hell no.”

“Fuck off, Lo.” He chuckled, just as Dean and Oliver walked into the kitchen. Callum nodded before walking toward them. He helped take one of the grocery bags from my brother.

“Lo? Y’all friendly already?” Dean asked, his gaze hardening at me. “What did I tell you?”

“Jesus, Dean.” I groaned and flipped him off.

“We agreed you’d stay out of our way.”

“And we promised to always be friends when we were six, and you’ve already done three things wrong today,” I fired back.

He scoffed. “Pretty sure letting you live here trumps all those.”

“You didn’t help me move, and it injured my arm. You didn’t show me my room, and you obviously gave some speech about rules to the house. Am I not allowed to even speak to anyone else?“

He frowned. “You’re hurt?”

“Yes, because I dragged my shit over a mile without a car or help.” I rolled my arm again, unashamed that this went down in front of Oliver and Callum. Dean and I beefing happened with or without an audience. They would need to get used to it.

“I had film.” He sorted the groceries and placed two boxes of cereal in the front of the cabinet. “I’m sorry, Lo, really. I hate that you hurt yourself.”

“Fine, accepted. But the rest? Am I allowed to be friendly with anyone or do I have to keep to my room like a little silent mouse?”

“You’re never quiet. Ever.” He laughed, shaking a box of cereal at me. “I got you your favorite cereal, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“I hate all of you.” My lips twitched, but I refused to smile.

“I didn’t do anything!” Oliver held up his hands. “Leave me out of it.”

I winked as I left them in the kitchen, partially amused and annoyed at the entirety of the football house. Luca’s anger and disgust at me combined with Dean’s dumb rules…it made a girl want to have a wild night. Not that I could do it here. No. I’d have to hang out at Mack’s or Tessa’s—another one of my favorite teammates. She played goalie and had the coolest red hair. It gave me envy, and I tended to appreciate my wild locks most days.

Rotating my left arm in a circle, I headed up the stairs to grab my duffel and head to the field. My playlist was ready to go, and yes, I listened to the songs in the same order every single time, no changes.

“Lorelei.”

Shit. My heart leapt in my throat at the deep growl of a voice. I spun, hand to my chest, as I studied in Luca leaning against his doorway. His broad shoulders took up most of the door and the crossed arms…the lean… my mouth dried up at the cords in his forearms. Oh my lanta, he was intimidating with those dark eyes and strong brows and wicked jawline. “Um,” I said, swallowing to get rid of the raspy voice. “Yes?”

“Here.” He held out a blue thing with gel. It took my brain a hot second to note it was an icepack. It was the size of his hand. Did he want to give it to me? Was this… why was he holding it in the middle of the hallway?

My lips parted, but nothing came out. Instead of being a normal human, I was afraid to say the wrong thing. The angry tone from earlier, from yesterday, all came back to me, and I didn’t have the emotional energy to worry about him today. Not on a game day. “I gotta go.”

He frowned and stepped toward me, pushing off the frame. His clean, soapy, and leather scent surrounded me, and I stopped breathing. He smelled nice. Whatever. No big deal. Candles smelled nice too, but they didn’t make my heart beat twice as fast.

“This will help your neck before your game. Alternating between ice and heat, along with massages, will keep it loose. Use it.”

“Right.” I took the ice pack, not meeting his eyes and instead focusing on his calves. They were twice the size of my arms, and I was proud of my muscles. “Thanks, I guess.”

“This is Dean’s fault.”

“Hm?” I glanced at him, his statement confusing me. His jaw went tight, and his eyes narrowed like he was mad at me. I just didn’t get it. “I know me living here is Dean’s fault, but I can’t do anything about it now, all right? Fuck.”

“No, I meant your arm.” He cleared his throat, his face paling. “He should’ve helped you move your stuff in knowing you had a game today.”

“Oh.” I slammed my lips together, embarrassed that I’d yelled at him for another reason. The concern and softness of his tone distracted me. I’d never heard him speak all even and kind to me before. It was strange.

“Do you need more help, or did you get everything?”

“Are you offering?” The question slipped out without thinking about it because why would the guy who hated me even ask that question? “Wait, of course not. That makes zero sense.”

He blinked, his lips turning down in a grimace before I had enough. I pressed the ice onto my skin, double-checked that my phone was in my bag, and took off. “I need to head to my game.”

I felt his stare on me as I jogged down the hall. It wasn’t until I was on the first step down that I heard a quiet “Good luck.”

I shook my head, hoping to clear the confusing Luca-inspired cobwebs. He unsettled me, and I didn’t have space to worry about him or my brother or my temporary roommates. I had to focus on kicking ass at the game.