“Anyway, that’s why I’m sitting here,” Vincent said gruffly. “I don’t give a shit about thank-you drinks-no offense-but it does mean a lot to me that you protected Scarlett and that you didn’t try to take advantage of my absence over the summer. So I guess…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression turning sheepish. “Maybe we should let bygones be bygones. Like Coach said, I don’t want our issues to fuck up our next season. And as much as I dislike you, I hate Holchester even more.”
“What a ringing endorsement. That truly makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”
“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not my biggest fan either.”
“I most definitely am not, but I also hate Holchester more, so”-I raised my glass-“the truce continues.”
Vincent snorted but clinked his glass against mine.
We sipped our beer and lapsed into awkward silence once more.
We had plenty to say when we were rivals, but friendliness was a tougher bridge to cross than enmity.
“What’s your problem with me anyway?” I asked, genuinely curious.
I would never forget what happened at the World Cup. Getting ejected from the biggest football tournament on the planet because of a faked injury wasn’t something any player would ever get over, and England’s subsequent loss only added to the sting. But it’d been two years since that fateful call, and I was willing to leave what happened in the past for Scarlett’s sake.
Besides, I planned to kick Vincent’s ass in the next World Cup.
However, that didn’t explain why he was so against me. We competed for sponsorships and status, but so did a lot of players.
Was it because the internet constantly pitted us against each other in those “who’s the better player” polls? Was it because I earned more than him? Or was it something else?
“My problem with you? Besides the fact that you’re a cocky son of a bitch with a superiority complex?” Vincent asked. “You have it too easy.”
I almost spat out my drink. “Excuse me?”
Have it too easy? I trained and played just as hard as he did, and I worked my ass off to get to where I was. Admittedly, I was lucky enough to grow up in a relatively stable, two-parent household, but having my father scream in my ear all the time hadn’t been a walk in the park.
Besides, it wasn’t like Vincent grew up in a tough household. His parents were divorced, but from what I could tell, they’d been supportive of his dreams. His father had been an engineer and his mother was a nurse, and they had enough money to pay for Scarlett’s ballet lessons and his football training.
“I’m not talking about your work ethic.” It was like Vincent could read my thoughts. “I’m talking about you. Asher Donovan.” He gestured at me. “If any other player had pulled half the shit you’ve pulled, with the cars and racing, they would be radioactive. No one would touch them. You, on the other hand, got a record-breaking transfer deal and a renewed sponsorship from Aoki Watches. You’re reckless, you’re flashy as hell on the pitch because you can’t stand not being the center of attention, and it doesn’t matter because your brand is too big to fail.”
I sat there, too stunned by the barrage to respond. I thought his issues with me stemmed from disparities in pay or fame, but clearly, they ran deeper than that.
Vincent was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you remember the Rocco campaign you did five years ago?”
I nodded. The sneaker campaign had been my first major brand sponsorship. When I received my first check from them, my eyes nearly fell out of my head.
“I was originally slated to be their brand ambassador.” He flashed a bitter smile. “But I got into a fight with Pessoa after the shit he pulled with Scarlett, someone recorded it, and Rocco pulled my contract.”
I vaguely remembered hearing about the fight, but it happened before our rivalry truly kicked off, and I’d glossed over the details at the time.
“Shit.” I grimaced. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t responsible for Rocco pulling his contract, but if I were him, I’d resent the person who took my place, too.
Now, I understood why my transfer bothered him so much. I got into trouble and got rewarded; he got into trouble and got penalized. Granted, we were at a different level of fame five years ago-Rocco might’ve let the fight slide if it’d happened today-but feelings were feelings.
Vincent shrugged. “What’s done is done. My Nike contract later soothed the burn.” His mouth curled into a smirk. “Besides, I was Rocco’s first choice.”
“Oh, piss off.” But instead of being annoyed, I felt the tentative tendrils of understanding snake around us, softening some of our hard-baked bitterness.
For two people entrenched in a career where ego and reputation ruled the day, that wasn’t a small feat.
“But like I said, that’s water under the bridge.” Vincent laughed. “I’m just glad nothing happened between you and my sister, or we’d be having a different conversation. I can get past work-related problems, but family? That’s another issue.”
My short-lived relief solidified into ice.
Scarlett. Letting go of our past resentments was all well and good, but our biggest obstacle for a friendly relationship continued to simmer in the background like a volcano waiting to erupt.
“Anyway, I’m glad we had this talk. Coach will be happy too.” This time, Vincent was the one who raised his glass. “You ready to kick Holchester’s ass this season?”
I forced a smile and tapped my glass against his. “Absolutely.”
“We can’t tell him yet.”
Scarlett stared at me from my phone screen. I didn’t want to risk going over to her house after Vincent and I left the Angry Boar, so I’d video called her instead and explained why I changed our plans earlier. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we have to rethink our strategy for breaking the news.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “You should’ve heard him. He mentioned multiple times how much he appreciated me not making a move on you while he was gone. That’s one of the main reasons he’s willing to bury the hatchet. If we tell him now, he’ll feel like a fool, which means he’ll probably take the news even worse than we thought.”
“Maybe he won’t,” Scarlett said hopefully. “Maybe he’ll take it better now that he doesn’t think you’re the devil.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Ugh. You’re right.” She dropped her head into her hand. “I don’t believe this. We were nervous about telling him because he didn’t like you, and now we can’t tell him because he does like you. I swear, the universe hates us.”
“We can still tell him. We just have to adjust our timing,” I said. “2075 should be an auspicious year.””Asher.”
“I know, I know.” I sighed, conflicted.
On one hand, we could stick with our original strategy and deal with the fallout as it came. That would give Vincent time to calm down before the preseason started.
On the other hand, I doubted two weeks would be enough of a buffer period for him to get over the news. He would start the season with fresh hatred of me, which wouldn’t be good for anyone involved.
Old me would’ve chosen option one, but I was trying to be more thoughtful and less reckless about the decisions I made. I couldn’t jump into a situation headfirst and expect everything would work out in my favor. I had to think of the consequences.
I also wasn’t stupid enough to call Coach’s bluff. He would absolutely condemn us to the bench if he felt like we weren’t working together well enough, and I hadn’t worked this hard to sit on the sidelines during what I was starting to think of as my redemption season. If I didn’t bring home a trophy come May and prove my critics wrong, I might as well pack up my boots and call it a day.
Plus-and I would never admit this out loud-my truce with Vincent had lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Clashing with someone on my own team took a lot of energy, and I needed every spare ounce of it if I wanted to beat Holchester.
“Maybe we can tell him during the holidays,” I said. “The spirit of giving and all that.”
Scarlett gave me a dubious look. “You want to tell him halfway through the season and ruin his Christmas?”
“Well, not when you put it that way.”
We sat in silence as we attempted to workshop a new strategy.
It didn’t work.
“Maybe it’s because it’s so late, but my brain is mush,” Scarlett said. “We can table this for now, but is it really better to tell Vincent after the season starts than before? What if he finds out before we’re ready? He’ll be even more upset if he hears about us from someone else.”
“I don’t know.” I tipped my head and stared at the ceiling, wishing it contained the solutions to our problems. “I really don’t know.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.