Watching Her Chapter 8 - Flower

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Chapter 8 - Flower - Bambi
Flower is shy and timid with an adorable giggle.

"Dude, what the hell is the matter with you? That's the fourth penalty kick you've missed in a row," Emmett gripes at me from the goal as he flings the soccer ball back at me, aiming straight for my head.
I duck just in time to miss being beaned in the face and turn and scowl at him.

"Asshole," I mutter at him, even more pissed when he just raises one eyebrow and shrugs his shoulders at me.
As I jog to get the ball that's rolled to the other side of the field, I try to focus. I knew I shouldn't have come today; I'm in no shape to practice. By the time I made it home after I'd stared at her door so long my vision blurred, I could barely stand up I was so exhausted. I really need to fucking practice though. ODP Regional Camp is in a little more than six weeks and I've got to be at the top of my game if I have any hope of being held over to be a part of the National Pool. This is my shot, what I've worked for, what I've spent every weekend playing for, the reason I've spent all my free time practicing. If I want to realize my dream of playing soccer for a living, I can't let this opportunity pass me by … not for her, not for anyone.

Emmett, Jasper, and I have been playing together since we were eight-years-old. Em in the goal, me directing the offense from the mid-field and Jasper up top scoring from places on the pitch that would make Lionel Messi jealous. We started out in the local youth soccer league, moved up to play on a select team from Port Angeles until we were good enough to make a team from the Premier League in Seattle.

Traveling to Seattle most every weekend for games during soccer season gets kind of old, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Emmett plays soccer because when we first started out, the coach told him he'd make a great goalie, which Emmett readily agreed to once he found out he got to wear a cool-looking shirt and got to use his hands when no one else could. Jasper plays because he likes to fuck with the guys from the other team. There isn't a person alive, I don't care how old they are, that can play mind games like he can. He's ruthless, cunning, and he just happens to read body language better than just about anyone out there. If he gets free and goes one on one with the goalie, there's no way in hell he can be stopped. It hasn't happened yet, and I don't see it changing anytime soon. He's a tough fucker, too; he has to be. When we play, he's the one with the bright red bull's-eye on his back … which usually leaves me free and clear to work my magic.
My corner kicks and free kicks are my trademark, and because Jasper gets fouled so much when we attack, I get plenty of chances to show off my skill in every game. I'm fast, I'm strong, and I can shoot like a motherfucker. I'm not bragging, but I know I'm good. Really good.

So, no matter how hot Drummer Girl is, and no matter how much I want to get to know her and have fantasies of fucking her into oblivion while she screams my name at the top of her lungs, I can't … I won't let whatever the hell this thing is with her get in the way of my dream.

"We heading to the diner for lunch?" Jasper asks as he flops down on the ground beside our gear. He stretches his long legs out and tilts his head back, leaning on his elbows.

Emmett's in the middle of changing out of his cleats when his phone rings, the smile on his face a dead giveaway as to who's on the other line.

"Fuck yes." He laughs holding the phone up to his ear. "Rosie, baby," he bellows and it's quite likely she can hear him all the way in California where she's on vacation with her family.

"He's so fucking whipped it's not even funny." Jasper chuckles and I snort.

"Um, pot meet kettle." I wave between him and Emmett. "You're just as bad about Ali, man. Don't even think you're not."

He gets this dreamy look on his face, the one he always sports whenever Alice's name is mentioned. He's not anywhere near as comfortable with PDA as Emmett is, hell, no one is, but there's not one iota of doubt how he feels about Alice … ever. It's kind of sickening in a way, or it would be if he wasn't my best friend and I didn't love Alice like a sister.

"What the fuck ever," he spouts with a roll of his eyes, hopping up from the ground. "You're just jealous."

I am.

Agonizingly so.

Visions of tangled brown hair, flushed cheeks, and haunted eyes rush forth vividly. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, ignoring the twist in my stomach and the heaviness between my legs. Fuck. 

Needing to get out of here, I slap Jasper on the shoulder. "I'm gonna head out. I need to go by Thriftway and get some food in the house. I'll meet you guys up at the track at the usual time."

I try to just brush past him, but as I expect, he tugs on my elbow before I can get too far. "Edward, man, I don't know what the hell's been going on with you lately, but if you need to talk about something, you know you can talk to me."

His eyes are intense, piercing, and it's on the tip of my tongue to tell him everything, but I can't. I mean really, what the hell would I say anyway? I shake off his arm and go for my standard distract and evade. "Call Newton, Crowley, and Cheney. You guys can come over after we workout and we'll play FIFA or COD … no chicks though. Make sure Mike knows no Jessica." I shiver as her name passes my lips.

Jasper stares at me, long enough for me to know he hasn't bought my line of bullshit in the least. One more beat and then he nods, letting me off the hook, though I know it won't be for long. I wave at Emmett, and throw my bag in the backseat. The entire way to the store, which doesn't take but five minutes, I waffle back and forth. Part of me is glad I blurted out the invitation to the guys to come over because it would keep my mind off her, but on the other hand, all I pretty much want to do is think about her.

I haven't decided if I'm going to torture myself by going to her house tonight. I want to, Christ I want to, but I know last night was a mistake. Or I think it was a mistake … it kind of feels like it was a mistake, but then again, it doesn't. On the few hours of fitful sleep I managed last night, nothing really makes sense, so I figure when the time comes I'll make a decision.

Wandering around the store a bit, I grab the standard bread, milk, frozen pizza, soda, and chips before I head toward the back of the store where the deli is located. I'm getting sick of frozen and microwaved meals and feel like cooking. Mom would have a cow if she knew how horribly I've been eating since they've been gone.
I grab a rotisserie chicken and then a few potatoes and a bag of salad in the vegetable section, my mouth watering at the thought of real food for a change. Glancing down in my basket I realize I need dessert so I start moving in the direction of the freezer section, mulling over the choice between mint chocolate chip and cookie dough ice cream when I catch a glimpse of dark brown hair on the other side of the canned food aisle.

Holy shit. 

My heart thumps wildly in my chest and my palms begin to sweat, leaving no doubt who that is. I hear a phone ring, the ring tone the familiar tune of Fur Elise … God, could she be any more perfect? I groan.
She answers. "Hey, yeah, I'm at the store now. Okay, what kind?" she asks as she moves toward the end of the aisle. Her voice, her fucking voice. Raspy, kind of deep, but not really, a hint of some kind of accent, though I can't even think clearly enough to decipher where it comes from. She giggles and I can't stop myself. I peek around the end of the shelves, catching her just as she turns. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her shorts are navy blue today and her shirt is plain white. Fucking A, her legs are even better up close … well closer. I can see the outline of her calf, her thigh. Those muscles didn't come from playing the drums alone, that's for sure.

I walk slowly, following her scent like a damn dog searching for a bone. Oh, hell, I can smell her, the scent of peppermint and sugar cookies so much stronger now than it was last night when it was mixed with the fresh air. Rooted in place like a statue, I watch her as she checks out. Brown eyes. I'm sure her eyes are brown. Seeing her in the light of day is so much different than at night.

I can't take my eyes off her as she waves at the cashier and then goes out to her SUV. My fingers twitch and I feel this powerful sense of loss when she pulls out of the parking lot and drives away.

Yeah. All thoughts of not going to her house tonight just got blown out of the fucking water. There's no way I can stay away.

No way at all.
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