Kicked Read Online Free

the bleachers. I was trying to do homework.”
    “Sure you were.” He winked. “I’m pretty sure you were just checking me out.”
    I snorted. “In your dreams, pretty boy. And then, after I retrieved your ball for you, I kicked your ass in our little shootout.”
    He made a pffftt sound. “You’ve lost your mind. That one goal you scored didn’t even count. Just dumb luck, really.”
    “I got it past you. The net was all that mattered.”
    “Okay, whatever.” He darted his gaze around the cafeteria, lingering on a cluster of girls at a table in the center. “What’s your point?”
    “Can you focus for two seconds, manwhore?”
    “Firstly, I learned in my women’s studies class that the term ‘manwhore’ is sexist because it assumes all whores are women. Secondly”—he finally tore his eyes away from the girls—“I’m focused. So shoot.”
    I cocked my head at him. “And just how many women from that class did you study?”
    He shrugged and stared up at the ceiling, clearly trying to remember. “I think I studied maybe three, possibly four, in depth.”
    “Figures.” I tried not to give any hint of a smile, though I was still amused at the fact he’d voluntarily signed up for a women’s studies class.
    He snapped his head back down. “What can I say? I’m a feminist. I love women.”
    I snorted. “You are so full of shit. Now can we get back down to discussing me for once?”
    “I’m all ears. You were telling me about how you scored a lucky goal on me when we first met.”
    I let the “lucky” bit slide to keep the conversation on track. “Soccer. That’s what I want to do. When the season starts, I want to be on the soccer pitch. Not on the football field. Soccer is where I need to focus.”
    He shook his head. “Tell me something, Cordy. Do you have a soccer scholarship?”
    I crossed my arms and leaned my right side against the cool wall beside the window. Landon knew I had no funds from home or rich parents to see me through undergrad. My first two years of school, I’d relied on a full scholarship for students from my small coal mine of a county in West Virginia. But the money ran out when the sponsor, Reliant Coal, closed its doors. So, for the third and fourth years of school, I would have to depend on the slight scholarship money from my kicker spot and the dreaded student loans that would eventually come calling.
    My dad spent most of his time at the bottom of a bottle, and I sent him what money I could. Mom was long gone, having left when I was a baby. For the past few years, I relied only on myself. It had been working so far, but the loss of the coal scholarship had been an unwelcome surprise.
    “Well, do you?” Landon drummed his fingers on the table. “Have you been granted some full-tuition bomb from the soccer gods that you haven’t mentioned?”
    “You know I haven’t.”
    “But you do have a football scholarship.”
    “Yes.”
    “Then use your brain for something other than headers.” He tapped his index finger on his temple. “ Think . Be smart about this. Could you have made that kick?”
    I chewed on my lip and looked out at the falling leaves. I’d screwed it up so badly that I wasn’t sure anymore. I’d made field goals in the few practices I’d attended, but the pressure during an actual game was different. “I think I could have.”
    “I know you could have. You’ve got a lot of leg. So, why did you miss it?” He leaned forward, his light brown eyes searching my face.
    “I didn’t get enough lift, so it bounced off of—”
    “Nope. That’s what happened, but that’s not the why.”
    I shifted in my seat. I knew the answer; I just didn’t want to give it to him.
    “Come on, Cordy, fess up.” He gave me a dazzling smile—the same one that dropped panties all over campus.
    I huffed out a breath. “Fine. I missed the field goal because—”
    “Because you need to practice.” Trent’s voice washed over me like a Gatorade ice bath.