Shooting the Shit with Daphne

After spending three hours cooped up in the chemistry lab, you roll up to training ready to kick the shit out of a soccer ball. The team warms up by dribbling a lap around the pitch, and then forms up in a semicircle around Daphne.

“We’re practicing first touches today,” the Japanese captain of the team announces in her characteristic no-nonsense voice. “It doesn’t matter how well you can pass or shoot if you can’t get the ball under control first. That’s why we’re going to practice first touches today. Partner up. I want you to pass the ball between each other and practice trapping the ball with each foot. Then, you’ll shift to one touch volleys and settling the ball out of the air, and you’ll finish off with three touch passing and receiving. Got it? Go!”

While the rest of the players rush off to partner up, you hang back for a second, well aware that the person last to get a partner in these drills is always…

Daphne watches you standing by the side, a curious smile on her face as she tilts her head to face you.

“Is something wrong?” she asks.

“No, not at all,” you say quickly. “I just thought you’d like a partner to drill with. You know, instead of having to impose on a group that’s already formed...”

“Is that what I am like?” she asks, the smile on her face growing a fraction wider. “Imposing? Does the team fear me?”

“Not gonna lie, you can be pretty scary when you get the ball,” you say. “But that’s not how we think of you. Not usually. I, for instance, think you’re kinda cute.”

Too far? But Daphne’s smile morphs into a sly grin, reaching for the lower hem of her shirt and pulling it up. Is she about to flash you? You see her taut midriff and the smooth curves of her waist, up and up to the bottom of her dark sports bra. So caught up are you in the action that you almost miss the soccer ball she kicks at you with sudden ****. It flashes through the air, and you grunt as you control it with your chest on instinct, blinking in surprise for a couple seconds while the ball languishes at your foot.

“You can’t be getting distracted when you’re on the pitch,” Daphne says with a teasing smile. “Your opponents won’t be above using such tactics too. Especially Franklin’s team, their cheerleaders are—”

You smash the ball back at her, and it flies across the ground.

“—known for their devious tactics,” Daphne says, hardly missing a beat. “You were supposed to start the drill by trapping the ball with a foot.”

She points to her own right foot, where she’s trapped the ball. After a second, she passes the ball back to you, and you follow her word this time, stopping the ball with your left.

“I was hoping to get one over you,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But I guess you were more than ready for me.”

You pass the ball back to her, and she traps it with her other foot.

“It would take far more than that to distract me,” she says nonchalantly.

If that’s innuendo, you fully intend to play along.

“Watch out,” you say, volleying the ball back at her. “I might make good on that some day.”

“Many have tried,” Daphne replies, settling the ball with her foot.

“And have many succeeded?” you ask in return.

“A woman must have her secrets,” Daphne smiles.

You carry on the drill with some small talk about the other teams in the league, and before you know it, it’s time to switch to the next drill. After that, Daphne runs the team through some tactics, holding a practice match to execute on the counter-attacking ideas that she has. As practice ends, you’re famished (as usual), and so you head into the dining hall with Keegan to polish off a hearty dinner.

Daphne +5