Amanda.
If anyone had told me this morning that I'd end the day hating my brother's best friend, I would've laughed in their face. But there he was, leaning casually against the goalpost like he owned the field—Jayden Reynolds.
My Jayden Reynolds. JD, as I always liked to call him in my head. Okay, not mine, but the one I'd spent years doodling initials about in the margins of my notebooks. The same Jayden who used to ruffle my hair and call me "squirt" when he came to visit Ethan. And now? He was my team's new assistant coach. Great. Just great.
"Carter!" His voice cut across the field, sharp and commanding. "Quit daydreaming. Warm-up laps. Let's go."
The way he looked at me wasn't the way a guy looked at a girl. It was the way a coach looked at a player—like I was just another name on his clipboard. And somehow, that hurt worse than I expected.
Not that I expected special treatment just because we know each other way back. Or… if I'm being honest, maybe a little special treatment wouldn't hurt. I met Jayden five years ago. He came to our house with my brother during school break, and my little twelve-year-old heart beat faster than it ever had that day.
I still remember it perfectly: me standing in the hallway, clutching a juice box, pretending I wasn't eavesdropping while Ethan introduced his friend. Jayden walked in—nineteen, tall, tan, grinning like the sun itself had decided to take human form—and I swore the world tilted. "Who's this?" he'd asked, glancing at me with that easy grin that could probably end wars. "My kid sister," Ethan said, rolling his eyes.
"Amanda, say hi." I'd mumbled something unintelligible. Jayden crouched slightly, ruffled my hair, and said, "What's up, squirt?" I hated that nickname. And then I went to my room and replayed that moment about fifty times in my head like some lovesick Disney character.
Jayden made an impression on my tender heart. He was the star, the moon, and the sun. He wasn't annoying like my older brother—a huge plus. And my mum liked him. Despite having a billionaire father, he never seemed to mind hanging out with my middle-class family. We weren't poor, but we were far from being called rich.
Our mother works hard to provide for us, Dad's late, died when i was five—car accident, making my mother the only parent we have left, i wished we had more than enough. I guess it's part of the reason I'm determined to make it big in sports.
To ease the burden of my mother. Jayden always treated me like a little sister. Which was annoying, because I had a huge crush on him. And which female in her right mind wouldn't fall in love with him? Standing tall and regal at 6'2, golden-brown skin, with dark but slightly wavy hair. If I thought he was handsome then, now at Twenty-four, he's even more so—a bit more muscular, the type of build you only get from years of professional soccer before retiring. His piercing gray-green eyes, usually unreadable, were now directed at me like a laser beam.
"Anytime now, Carter. I don't have all day," he drawled. I rolled my eyes, dropping my water bottle back inside my bag before jogging over to join my team for the lap run. The sun bore down like it had a personal vendetta against us, and the turf was practically sizzling. Sweat was already trickling down my spine, my cleats thudding rhythmically against the field as I pushed my body into autopilot.
"I think you rubbed off on our new assistant coach in the wrong way, Amanda," my teammate Maya muttered as I fell into pace beside her.
"I'm just going to ignore him," I said through gritted teeth.
"Come on, let's go before he finds something else to yell about." Zoey, two paces ahead, twisted around with a smirk.
"Please. You can't ignore that. He's hot. Like, annoyingly hot." I shot her a look.
"He's my brother's best friend."
"And your new coach," Maya added with a snicker. "Scandalous."
"Shut up," I hissed, but my ears were burning.
Since I made the mistake of telling some of my teammates that I knew our new assistant coach, they won't let me hear the end of it. Or maybe it wasn't a mistake. Maybe it was me trying to stake a claim over him—which is totally ridiculous.
I scoffed at myself, kicking at the turf like that would erase the thought. The last thing I wanted was to be seen as incompetent. I wouldn't give our new assistant coach that joy. My focus—my greatest desire—was to lead my team to the state championship and win, which would earn me a full-ride soccer scholarship. I could almost taste the freedom of leaving Folkner. Leaving this small, though peaceful town. But nothing beats seeing more or starting fresh. After the laps, we split into two teams for a scrimmage match. Five minutes in, I made a play, ready to shoot.
The ball soared just wide of the post.
"Carter! What the heck are you doing? That was a clear opportunity for you to score," Jayden barked from the sideline. "Get your head in the game!"
My left eye twitched. A clear sign I was about to lose my nerve. The sound of my breathing was louder than the cheers from the other side of the field. My cheeks burned—not from the sun, but from embarrassment. But I didn't reply. Not yet. This was Jayden, after all. The Jayden I used to follow around, hanging on every word out of his mouth. The Jayden I used to play games with. The Jayden who, in my mind, was practically a demigod.
By the time I was fifteen, I knew there could only be one person for me—and that was Jayden Reynolds. I had his jersey hidden in my room away from prying eyes. He had trashed it at our place one evening, because it had a rip in the armpit. So I washed it, folded it neatly, and kept it like a treasure. For my fifteenth birthday, Jayden had given me a small pearl necklace.
"Something for when you're older," he'd said, his voice soft but distant, like he didn't know how much that gift would mean to me. I'd thanked him, cheeks flaming, clutching the little box like it was a promise. I still have it in my jewelry box. I still cherish it. Imagine my greatest joy and surprise seeing him again after two years.
The last time I saw him was my fifteenth birthday. He'd shown up with Ethan, still wearing that easy grin and making polite small talk with my mother while I tried not to combust. So when I walked into practice a week ago and saw him standing there? Dumbfounded doesn't even begin to describe it.
"Heads up, girls," Coach Miller bellowed, clapping his hands. "This is your new assistant coach, Jayden Reynolds. He'll be joining the team starting today. Let's make him feel at home."
I'd been frozen on the spot. He looked sharp in his fitted black polo and dark jeans, Nike sneakers that definitely cost more than my entire wardrobe combined. The team chorused their greetings, some of them whispering and giggling about the "hot new coach." "Carter!" Coach Miller called me over amid the greetings.
"Jayden, this is Amanda Grace Carter, the team captain and striker," Miller said with pride. Miller had always had a soft spot for me. He was the only one besides my parents who ever called me by my full name. I was about to open my mouth to tell Coach Miller that Jayden wasn't a stranger when Jayden beat me to it. "Hello, Amanda. Nice to meet you," he said smoothly, sticking out his hand for a handshake. As if he'd never met me before in his life. What the heck? I'd been standing there, frozen, trying to figure out if this was some kind of weird joke. But his face stayed neutral. Professional. Like I was a stranger. And now here we were. A week later.
"Carter! For God's sake, get off the pitch if you're going to spend today daydreaming!" Jayden's voice cut through my reprieve. Something in me snapped.
I turned and glared at him, ready to give him a piece of my mind. But Coach Miller chose that moment to join us. I reined in my anger, jaw tight, even more furious for not being able to give Jayden what he deserved.
This season is going to be hell.