I'm Your Wreck

6- How Adorable

I woke up the next morning with an ache in my neck and my leg was asleep. It was only when I opened my crusty eyes and recognized the ugly floral brocade under my cheek that I realized I was still on the couch. A moment later, I looked down my shoulder and saw that my legs were tangled up in Banks's, who was still asleep with his head resting on the opposite arm of the couch.

I didn't even remember falling asleep. We were talking about tattoos and then we started talking about the show and he was right, it was pretty funny.

"How adorable," Walker crooned as he came around the corner and saw the position we were laying in together. "Long night then?"

I groaned at the weight of my head as I slowly pried my legs away from Banks to sit up and gulp down the rest of the water in my cup from last night. "What are you wearing?" I asked him in a quiet voice after realizing that Walker was adorning a long green vest that dropped to his knees with brown leather cuffs that covered his entire forearms. Matching brown leather boots and tight green pants with a long plastic knife holstered at his waist.

"Some of the guys are getting together for an informal LARP session," he explained, pointing to the fake pointed ears that poked out from his tufts of ginger curls. "I'm an elf named Albwin."

Careful not to wake Banks, I stood to my wobbly feet and started toward the stairs to go to the bathroom and then hide in my attic bedroom for the rest of the weekend. "I thought your LARP name was Moogellan."

"That's my warlock name," he corrected me.

I blinked cluelessly at him. "I thought it was a cow."

"A cow?" he raised his eyebrows at me. "You thought I was role playing as a cow?"

I shrugged. "Moo-gellan."

"You're an idiot."

With a long yawn, I waved him off and stepped toward the stairs just as Banks started stirring on the couch. I wanted to get out of there before he woke up and realized where he was or remembered how we fell asleep last night. "Whatever. Go save your kingdom, Albwin."

"They don't call me Alb-win for nothing!" he said before I heard the front door open and close.

Soccer tryouts were next month. I had barely picked up a ball in over two years. I missed the sport with every bone in my body and I needed to make this team. It was only the club level, but it was something.

I had to down two Gatorades to find enough energy to get out of the house, parking my car by the practice fields with a large duffel bag of practice cones and a couple of soccer balls. The back and forth with teammates was one of the best parts of the sport for me, maneuvering with your line toward the goal, all the push and pull.

But solo drills were all I had for the day, so I had to take it.

I blasted music in my ear buds, trying not to look at the scar along the inside of my right knee as I stretched. The doctor gave me the okay to play again and it hadn't hurt in over six months. Everything was fine.

After sprints, I set up the cones for some dribbling exercises. Something swelled inside my chest the second my cleats touched the ball. It was supposed to feel like coming home after a long time away. Something familiar that I'd been longing for ever since I was told I couldn't play.

I was eager to get out onto the field until I was actually out there and then suddenly, all I could feel was a deep dread broiling through my lower stomach.

It was like being back at my high school field, the crowd cheering loud and vicious for us since we were playing against our rival school. Every cell of my body was electric, fueled by the cheers from the crowd and the fiery way my line was playing together on the field. We were moving like different nerves of a single brain all night.