Author's Point of View
"Look at his butt!"
"Shut up!" Sam knocks her friend Lizzie Curtis in the shin guard with her field hockey stick. They're supposed to be running defense drills, but they-along with the rest of the team-were too busy sizing up this year's new assistant coach.
He's none other than Reggie Steele. A cousin of her roommate, Jazz Zamora.
Talk about weird. Sam remembers Jazz mentioning that Reg has moved to New York. But then, a lot of things can happen in a span of seconds, minutes, and hours. There's nothing else we can do but be surprised.
Veronica Burke skates over and tells Lizzie, "Your sister was so stupid to break up with him." She sneaks a glimpse of the 20-year-old male. "He's so hot."
"Shh," Lizzie answers, giggling. "And anyway, my sister didn't break up with him. He broke up with her."
The whistle blows. "Get moving!" Reggie calls to them, jogging over. Samantha leans down to tie her shoe, not caring. She feels his eyes on her.
"Samantha? Samantha Baxter?"
Sam straightens up. "Oh. Reggie, right? And it's Sam. Nobody calls me by that name anymore."
Reggie's smile is so wide, she's surprised his cheeks didn't rip. He still has that All-American, I'm-going-to-take-over-my-father's-company-at-twenty-five look, but now his raven hair is a little longer and messier.
"You're all grown up!" he cries, then turns to Lizzie. "Well if it isn't Elizabeth Curtis. How's your sister doing these days?"
"Um, she's good. She's studying at Harvard."
Before the conversation can escalate, Ms. Caldwell, the head coach, blows her whistle and calls Reggie over.
As Reggie jogs to center field, he glances back at her over his shoulder. Sam drew in her breath and leans over to examine her cleat, trying and failing to ignore the damn butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
She first met Reggie when she was ten, and he was thirteen. Because she loves cars and sports, they became good friends instantly. They also shared the same Self-Defense Class, but after her mom's funeral, Reggie began to drift away from her.
She didn't begrudge him other friendships, but it still stung how he seemed to easily forget their own special bond. At least, she thought it was special. Reggie likes girls, and vice versa, but he spent the most time with Samantha, due to their common grounds.
Before she even graduated high school, they were no longer close like before, and eventually, Sam accepted it.
But how is she supposed to be okay when memories kept bubbling up to the surface, especially after seeing him again?
By the time Sam got home from practice, every part of her body hurt, from her ass to her shoulders to her little toes.
She had spent the past month handling the budgets for new swimsuits and hockey uniforms, organizing committees, boning up on handouts, and self-tutoring herself in French, Spanish and Mandarin.
With all that, she lacked time to keep in top shape for field hockey, and she's feeling it now.
All she wants to do is enter her dorm room, and sleep on her bed for a week. But instead, she tosses a shirt, shorts, and underwear in her favorite black duffel bag and heads for the Recreational Center, where she's a privileged member, like part of a country club.
The backyard hot tub. A relaxing soak. Aw-w-w yeah.
Samantha drags herself along the flagstone path toward the pool's changing room. Pausing at the white door, ready to shower and change, she realizes, Who Cares? She's too tired to change, and no one else is here.
