Chapter 14 Jack

After practice, I thought I was finally free from Lara for the day.

I was wrong.

Our moms had planned one of their family dinners—the ones that happened every few days, as if they couldn't go a full week without forcing our families together. So, instead of getting some peace and quiet, I had to go to her house and was now sitting across from Lara at the dinner table, watching her steal the last piece of garlic bread off the plate.

"Seriously?" I muttered.

Something about her was not normal.and I think she doesn't want anyone to know that's why she is acting like she always do.but she failed.

She took a dramatic bite, eyes locked on mine. "Survival of the fittest."

All act!

I rolled my eyes and reached for my water. "You barely survived practice today."

She scowled. "Because my coach is a sadist."

"Because my player is weak."

Lara kicked me under the table. Hard.

I barely flinched. "That all you got?"

She opened her mouth—probably to insult me—but before she could, our moms swooped in, all smiles and excitement.

My mom beamed. "So, how's the training going?"

Lara plastered on a sweet smile. "Amazing. Best experience of my life."

I snorted.

Her mom clasped her hands together. "I knew you two would work well together!"

Lara muttered under her breath, "Yeah, real well."

I smirked. "What was that?"

"Nothing." She stuffed the rest of the garlic bread into her mouth like it was a personal victory.

Our moms kept chatting, already making plans for the next dinner. Meanwhile, Lara and I kept exchanging silent jabs—her elbowing me when I stole fries from her plate, me flicking a breadcrumb at her just to be annoying.

Something is off?

Dinner went the way it always did—our moms talking a lot, our dads barely getting a word in, and Lara and I annoying each other across the table.

But now, as we stepped outside, the air cooler than before, I figured it was time to tell her.

Lara stretched, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Finally, freedom."

I smirked. "Not for long."

She groaned. "Don't tell me we're training again. Jack, I just ate."

I leaned against the hood of my car, arms crossed. "No training."

She blinked. "Wait. Really?"

"Yeah." I paused. "Because tomorrow's tryouts."

Silence.

Lara just stared at me like I'd spoken in another language.

"…What?"

I shrugged. "Tomorrow. Five-thirty sharp. Coach will be there."

Her mouth opened, then closed. Then, in pure Lara fashion—

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

I bit back a grin. "Nope."

I should've expected the explosion.

But somehow, I still wasn't prepared for this.

"YOU ABSOLUTE, MANIPULATIVE, EVIL JERK!" Lara's voice practically echoed through the quiet street as she jabbed a finger into my chest. "You LIED to me!"

I didn't move. Didn't even flinch. "I never lied."

"Oh, really?" She let out a bitter laugh. "So when I asked why I was doing this, and you knew the truth but decided to keep your stupid mouth shut, that wasn't lying?"

I crossed my arms. "I didn't force you to do anything, Lara."

Her eyes flashed with rage. "That is not the point!"

She was fuming, her face a mix of frustration, betrayal, and something else—something she probably hadn't figured out yet. "You tricked me into this!"

I tilted my head. "You kept showing up."

She groaned, shoving me back—not that it did much. "Because I thought—" She cut herself off, turning away, her hands flying to her hair like she was seconds away from ripping it out.

"Thought what?" I pressed.

"That I was doing this for Steve!" she snapped, spinning back to face me. "I thought I was helping him! Not—Not getting roped into some stupid soccer tryout I never planned for!"

I stared at her, my patience thinning. "You think you don't belong out there?"

"YES, JACK!" Her voice cracked. "I am not like you! I don't care about this! I don't have some dream of being on a team or being the best player or—"

"Then why are you still here?" I cut in, my voice sharper than before.

She opened her mouth—then closed it.

I took a step closer. "Why didn't you quit?"

Her fists clenched. "Because—"

"Because deep down," I said, voice low, "you wanted to see how far you could go."

She shook her head. "Shut up."

"You wanted to prove to yourself that you could do it."

Her jaw tightened.

"You didn't need Steve to convince you. You wanted to keep going."

"SHUT UP!" she yelled, her eyes blazing.

But she wasn't just mad at me.

She was mad at herself.

Because she knew I was right.

She hated that I was right.

We stood there, breathing hard, the tension thick enough to suffocate.

I let the silence stretch before finally saying, "Tomorrow. Five-thirty sharp."

She scoffed. "I'm not coming."

I smirked, stepping past her. "Yes, you are."

She whirled around. "JACK—"

But I was already walking away, because I knew her.

And I knew she wasn't backing out.

Her reaction was telling that her mood was definitely off!