Scoring Wilder(2)

"I dunno, Kinsley. Tequila ‘hath’ a pretty wicked fury." Emily frowned as she took the shot glass out of my hand and replaced it with a glass of water. I'd only known Emily for a few days, but I could already tell we'd have a symbiotic relationship. She was the epitome of the shy girl-next-door, and I was the complete opposite.

Emily and I were two out of five freshmen members of the University of Los Angeles women’s soccer team. It was the beginning of June and training camp would start bright and early the next morning. I knew I was playing with fire by getting drunk the night before, but the veteran girls assured me that I'd be fine. They said the first day was mostly about technical things; basically lots of speeches and meetings about what the program expected out of us. The real practicing didn't usually start until the second day.

I peered over at Emily and closed one eye so that I would only see one of her. She was pretty with medium-length red hair that was light enough to where I felt like calling her Peach for the rest of the night.

"Em, you're so pretty. Have I told you that you’re so pretty? Cause you’re so pretty.”

She blushed and I made a mental note to get the girl some confidence. Lord knows I had enough for the two of us combined. You'd think having been cheated on twice would ruin that, but it would take a lot more than two dumb guys to undo the amount of leery gazes and unsolicited charm that had been laid on me my whole life.

I took Emily's hand and pulled her to the restroom down the hall. We were about to leave for a house party and I wanted to make sure I hadn't boozed off all of my makeup. Thankfully it wasn't hard to keep on mascara and lip gloss.

"Do you think this is a smart idea? Going to this party before our first practice?" Emily asked, eyeing me in the spotless mirror.

I puckered my lips and wagged my finger like I was about to set her straight. "We'll be fine, and who cares? It's my BIRTHDAY!" I squealed so loudly that Emily scrunched her nose in distaste. God, we were so different. I wondered if our budding friendship would last the summer. She was a small town girl from the Midwest whereas I was born and raised in the LA soccer world.

"Okay. We'll go and have fun and get back in time to get some sleep before practice," Emily said, nodding her head in agreement. I was already corrupting the girl.

"How do you look that good after five shots? Seriously?" Emily asked.

I glanced away from her to eye my appearance. Everything was just as it should have been: heart shaped face, small nose, plump lips, tan skin, and bright blue eyes that looked almost fake against my long mane of dark brown hair.

I was about average height and in great shape from soccer. I had lean, toned arms and legs like a cross-country runner.

"Are you kidding? I'd kill for those little freckles. You look like Little Bo Peep!" I laughed, grabbing her hand and forcing her to spin around in a circle like a prima ballerina. How drunk was I at this point?

Emily laughed and spun around, stumbling over her feet and making me laugh even harder. "What do freckles have to do with Little Bo Peep?"

A thunderous knock sounded at the door before I could answer.

"Let's go rookies! If we don't leave now there won't be any good alcohol left at the party!"

My ears perked up at that. The party was where I needed to be. It was my last hope of having a good birthday. So far it had been a bit depressing. I'd dumped my cheating boyfriend two weeks prior, my parents had ditched me for snow and the Aspen Country Club, and all of my high school friends had moved away for college. I'd bought myself a piece of Italian cream cake and eaten it alone in a cafe, people watching and feeling extremely lonely.

This party was my silver-lining, and I needed to make sure I made the most of it.

"Lead the way, Bo Peep!" I winked and locked elbows with Emily before we left the bathroom.

We walked back into the living room and I surveyed the group of girls that would form my soccer team for the next four years. Most of them I'd met when I was being recruited. They all seemed nice enough and I knew I'd get to know them a lot better once we started training.

The seniors were the only girls that seemed like they might want to cause problems. Tara was the captain of the team and everything about her cried out tyrannical tendencies. Her fellow seniors followed her around like little minions, except less cute. Hopefully I'd end up on Tara's good side, but past experience told me that was less than likely. I was heavily recruited for the team and had been voted rookie of the year by several soccer magazines prior to my signing on at ULA, which is why her radar was already locked onto me. I was a threat to her well-oiled system, which was made perfectly clear when she'd snubbed me at tryouts in front of everyone a few months prior.

Whatever. If I could survive her, then I'd be fine. I just had to do my job and play excellent soccer, that way she wouldn't have anything to complain about.




“Kinsley, Emily, wait for me!” Becca yelled as we pushed our way through the front door. Becca was another rookie on the team. She’d moved into the Rookie house the day before and we'd hardly had any time to hangout, but I could already tell our personalities would blend well together. She was gorgeous; she was only a few inches shorter than me with hazel eyes and bright blonde hair.

I spun around to wait for her as she ran over from the Underclassmen house that was right next door to the Upperclassmen house. We called them the Vet and Rookie houses for short.