Something Gained (USC Series Book #1)

chapter forty

SOMETHING GAINED
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AIDAN

The frigid wind whips across my face. Adrenaline races through my bloodline. The familiar buzz of the crowd, heightening my energy.

This game is probably one of the best ones we have played this season. Camron has saved more goals than I can count on one hand. Our defence line is working to the best of their abilities. And our offence—not to toot my own horn—is also pushing themselves just as hard. It is only the first half and we are already leading with 4-0.

We are versing Pennsylvania and so far; it has been pretty carefree.

Pennsylvania isn't on top of their own game and they are also a Division II team up against a Division I. They have had a losing streak all season and this game probably doesn't put them at an advantage point with it being a home game for us.

The Pennsylvania player—Number Twelve, as I like to call the players by their numbers—I have been marking for most of the game, is taking a throw-in. I await the ball, ready to intercept once he throws it.

Number Twelve scans the field, searching for any free players to throw to. I can tell when he finds someone because his gaze stops moving, focusing on someone behind my shoulder. I glance briefly behind me, instantly catching sight of the teammate he was looking at, inching closer to him.

During my many years playing soccer, that is something I learnt. To make the team wonder and not make my intentions obvious in scenarios like this. Number Twelve's stare revealed what his game plan was, leaving no imagination for how he was going to let his throw-in play out.

Preparing to obstruct the ball's path, just as they throw it and there is no space for Number Twelve to take back his actions, I stride towards the free player. I make it just in time to trap the ball with my chest, roll it down my body and start sprinting up the field, shocking most of the players.

Keeping my eyes up, I dodge the defencemen. I put more energy into my sprint, going faster than usual. Swiftly, I observe the field and position of the opposing players. There are a few players behind me—from both my own and Pennsylvania's team—racing to keep up with me.

Racing down the right side of the field, I can hear another player closely approaching me from behind as his cleats dig into the dewy grass. Tyson is in the centre of the field, eyeing me as he runs beside me.

"I am here if you need someone to pass to, Aidan," Tyson calls out.

I stay focused on the game, giving a quick jerk of my head to Tyson to acknowledge that I heard him.

Having travelled about halfway down the right-wing, I have to decide rather fast. I can pass to Tyson, giving him an easy chance to potentially score a goal or I could go for it, risk it and attempt to score from here.

Fuck it.

I kick the ball. The ball goes flying across the field and I stop running, closing my eyes shut, anticipating the disappointment when I open them again.

I don't know why I just did that. I don't know what will happen. What the fuck was I thinking? I just felt... bold. It was like I was tired of treading carefully like I have been these past few days, so I just thought, fuck it, and I did it.