Now That Summer Is Over (Mark Anastasio)

Chapter two: Perfect World

After throwing on some shorts and a t-shirt, I walked back downstairs and grabbed my cleats and ball from the rack by the back door. Our backyard was fairly spacious, with a stone patio, a hot tub and a lawn flanked on two sides by flowerbeds and a row of tall bushes opposite the house. One of the first things I did after we moved in, was to set up a small net at the back end of the yard, so I could practise my shots.

The evening had begun to transition to twilight when Lela slid open the screen door and came over the cool grass towards me, as I dribbled back and forth in front of the net. With my right foot I tipped the ball up and into my hands, before turning to face her.

"Hey."

"Hey." she responded, her voice soft, eyes downcast. "You said you could teach me?" I glanced at her outfit. Lela wore jeans and a violet blouse, with black boots. Not the most practical attire, but I think she can make do.

"Sure, although your feet may be a little sore tomorrow. Have you ever played before?" She shook her head no, but something in her eyes told me otherwise. "Alright." I dropped the ball and dribbled slowly between my feet. "The first thing you want to do is practice keeping control of the ball, like this." I continued to dribble on the spot, while Lela kept her eyes glued to my feet. "Here, you try." I quickly passed the ball to her, and she reacted instantaneously, catching the pass on her left foot, and stopping it with her right.

She's definitely done this before.

She looked up at me, surprise evident on her face. Lela had fallen right into my trap, her instincts taking over and showing her true skill. "You've played before, don't lie to me." She opened her mouth to protest, but then snapped it shut. "How long?"

"I started in middle school." Lela admitted with a small smile. "But I really upped my game about a year ago, after..." She trailed off, looking away. I knew the hurt in her voice.

"Break-up?" I said, softening my voice. "Let me guess, he was captain of the soccer team, and you wanted to prove that you are better than him?" Lela's mouth dropped open.

"How did..." I gave a shrug and grinned.

"I've known my fair share of cocky soccer jerks, and their revenge seeing exes." She smiled again, a real one this time, no apprehension. "Let's play a game. First to five goals." Her eyes narrowed.

"You're on."

Despite jeans and boots, Lela held her own quite well against me, making it past my defences and scoring twice, but after about thirty minutes, I needed only one more goal. I came at her from across the yard, zig-zagging across the grass while she kept pace with me, jogging backwards. Then I fainted left, but veered right, and made a beeline for the net. One moment I could taste victory, and the next I was on my back in the grass, with Lela sprawled out beside me, both of us laughing.

"I have to admit," I managed to say. "I did not expect that."

"You should have seen your face when you went down. It was golden!" We broke into another fit of laughter. When we managed to breathe again, Lela lay her head on my chest, and I could smell the lavender scent in her hair, her warm breath on arm. "What's it like, losing so bad?"

I smiled. "Not so bad." Lela shifted her position, and her arm came to rest on my thigh, her hand brushing against bare skin, just under the bottom of my shorts. That's when I knew something felt wrong. "Lela..." I said, my lungs seeming like bags of lead. "How long have you been single?"

She hummed, the noise vibrating through my chest. Her hand traced little circles on my smooth skin. "Far too long."

I sat up, brushing a hand through my tousled hair. I knew what was coming, and I had to stop it. "Lela, I just think you should know-" Before I could finish she had her lips on mine, her arms around my neck. In that moment, two things happened. I knew that I would pack my bags and leave for soccer camp tomorrow, and that Lela would hate me for it.

I was probably a dream come true for her, a hot, kind soccer player with a good personality. A guy who could see her for what she really was, and could appreciate her strengths. In a perfect world, it might have been my dream too. But this is not a perfect world, and this was just not meant to be.