SOL - Changes Part 3

Days are long in the summer, but it’s getting dark. The matches no longer run concurrently on Fridays; they’re played one at a time to maximize streaming revenue. Pink Team faces Yellow Team last.

You’ve spent enough time in clubs and parties that you’ve tried things. The match reminds you of that. Is this what it’s like to just enjoy what you’re doing? You used to worry about everything when you played, but in a weird way. It was all about how you looked. You wanted to look like you were in charge.

Now you just want to win and play good football. For the first time, you caught yourself staring at Riley not to admire her perfect ass, but to admire her footwork. She’s a better footballer than you are. She isn’t as big and strong and she doesn’t have your killer instinct, but she has a dancer’s grace and impeccable coordination.

Lara and Riley are in good form, and so is the rest of your team with only one exception: Sam. But Sam’s visible underperformance isn’t enough to affect the outcome. The sun sinks, the lights come on, and cheers fill the air while sweat shines on skin and the muggy, Florida air becomes slightly less unbearable.

You barely think about what the crowd and the announcers are doing as you drink Gatorade after the final whistle. It’s delicious. You’re worn out and pleasantly sore. You’ve never felt better.

Max touches your elbow and you look down at her.

“You’re up,” she says, indicating with her eyes. You look at the pitch, where Moxxi and Lulu’s postgame setup is in place.

“Me?” you ask. Usually, it would be Riley and Lara doing the interview.

You look past Max to see Tiff gazing at you. You put down your bottle and walk out there, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair behind your ear. You absently take off your hair tie to let your hair fall loose. The old you would care about how you look in this situation, but you don’t even notice how your sodden uniform sticks to you or the dirt and grass stains.

Your mind is blank as you sit in the chair that they indicate. You smile at them.

“Good game out there, Adella,” Moxxi opens brightly.

You nod. “I think we played well.”

“That was the closest to a blowout that we’ve seen in weeks,” Lulu says. “You scored four goals. What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know,” you reply thoughtfully. “I think everyone played well.”

“Any commentary for Yellow Team?” Moxxi prompts, taken aback by your short, bland answers.

“It felt like they expected something that they did not get,” you say. Your English is good, but not perfect. You have to remind yourself that most of the people watching this are English speakers.

“Well, they didn’t expect you to play like that,” Moxxi says. “That’s for sure.”