Chapter 30

: Andi

T hat was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Hands down. And that includes marrying Mike and attempting to dye my blonde hair black with box dye.

Those two things pale in comparison to kissing Brandon Nix.

Why? Why did I do it?

I’ve been asking myself the same question for two days.

I feel like shit, both emotionally and physically. Concussion recovery is no joke.

Not like my career is. I’ll be the laughingstock of the sports world. First female to be the head referee in an official Men’s United States Soccer League Game?

Andrea Nichols.

First female referee to get fired for making out with a player a few weeks later?

Andrea Nichols.

What the hell was I thinking?

As I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, I know exactly what I was thinking. He saw me. He took care of me when I was injured. He didn’t make me be quiet. He pushed me to talk and to have feelings.

I mean, I always have them, but no one cares. My feelings aren’t important in the grand scheme of things. I’m so out of practice of having feelings that the minute they rise to the surface, they take over and make me do questionable things.

I’m better off not having feelings.

Or at least not expressing them.

Also, Brandon’s sexy as hell.

Even with the debatable follicular choices, everything about him makes me want to do very bad things with him.

But what I can’t stop thinking about is what Brandon said as he was leaving. That he only went after Trevyon Wallis-Smalls because of his sister. He was defending his sister.

That almost makes this all worth it.

I’d rather have a man that protects his family than one who lets someone sling insults. Not that I have Brandon. Or that I ever will. Just ... it makes me feel all sorts of gushy inside.

There are so many feelings swirling inside me that I barely know which way is up.

Nathan postponed my meeting, thanks to my concussion. I almost wish he hadn’t. No use in prolonging the inevitable. The Global Games are over and the MUSSL resumes regulation play next week. Even without the knowledge that we have been fraternizing outside of work, I doubt Nathan will put me on another game.

It’s probably better that way.

Maybe he’ll keep me in the WUSSL, working at a lower rate for a lower-rated league. If I stay officiating games in the WUSSL, I’ll never be able to quit my day job.

I don’t know why I’m still thinking about this in terms of a viable career path.

Maybe because refereeing was the one thing I got to do that was on my terms. I couldn’t play soccer at a competitive level because my family couldn’t make that kind of commitment. I went to PT school because of Benj. Made sense, right? Therapy had been such a big part of his life that I should give back on his behalf. Pivoting into refereeing started as a hobby when I was in college and took off from there.

I did it for me.

It’s one of the few things I ever did for myself.

Even if I did throw my career away with both hands, I still made history. I should be proud of that.

I haul myself out of bed. To do what? I’m not exactly sure. I have three more days before I’m expected to log back into my soul-sucking day job. If I could, I’d break every single fragile item in my apartment. Even then, I’m not sure it would help.

But I bet it would feel awesome.

It’s probably beyond what I’m supposed to do, but in all reality, I feel fine. I could have gone back to work today, but I decided to take the entire week. It’s been three days since I kissed Brandon.

Not that I’m counting or anything.

I haven’t heard from him.

Not that I expected to. Especially not with the things I said to him.

Want to know the funny thing? I don’t even have a way to get ahold of him. We never exchanged numbers or anything. He’s been in my place more than anyone else, and I can’t even text him.

Not that I would.

Or that I want to.

I mean, I think I’d feel a little better if I could at least apologize for the comments about his hair. Those were uncalled for.

My phone dings. I don’t race to see who it is. There are only three likely possibilities: Benj, Mike, or Nathan. I don’t want to talk to any of them.

I’m still mad at Benj for freezing me out and not telling me about Samantha or his plans. Maybe mad isn’t the right word? Maybe it’s hurt that I’m so invisible to him too that he forgot I was supposed to be important to him.

I never want to talk to Mike these days. Everything about him grates on me. But mostly because he gets paid more for doing the same exact job I do. And he knows it too. Yet he’s not doing anything to speak up for me.

Though you can bet if the situation was reversed, he’d be begging me to go to the mat for him.

I don’t think I need to explain why I don’t want to talk to Nathan. The longer I go without hearing from him, the more I can be delusional that no one will ever find out, and I’ll get to keep my job.

If that should happen, I know I could be super professional in a Buzzards’ game. I could be impartial and fair. Nobody would believe it though.

Finally, my curiosity gets the better of me. It’s Hannah LaRosa.

Hannah: You okay?

Why is she texting me that? Am I viral again? Has someone posted Brandon coming and going from my place? I quickly open ClikClak and search around. There’s nothing about Brandon or me.

Hannah herself has plenty to use, if she wanted. She doesn’t seem like the type. In fact, she seems like the type of person I might be able to someday call a friend.

Me: Okay. Why?

Hannah: Cally said you had a concussion

Relief floods my body. She doesn’t know.

Me: Yeah. I’m okay. It was minor. Feeling back to my old self. But don’t tell my day job that. I told them I needed the whole week off.

Hannah: Your secret is safe with me

I suck in a deep breath. What does she mean by that?

Me: I hope they all are

Hannah doesn’t keep me in suspense.

Hannah: Of course. The whole thing is ridiculous. Just because you are both passionate and intense does not mean there’s anything going on between you. Society is stupid sometimes.

While I agree with her, I don’t respond. I don’t want to lie to her, but it’s also obvious she doesn’t know. That’s a relief.

A small one, but a relief nonetheless.

My relief is short-lived when I get a message from Sydney requesting I login for a Zoom call with Nathan in 10 minutes. I jump out of bed, run to the bathroom, and brush both my teeth and my hair. I’m not sure why I brush my teeth. It’s not like Nathan will smell my breath through the computer screen. On the other hand, I’ve been shirking my self-care this week, so they’re in desperate need of brushing regardless.

I put on a non-stained T-shirt. That’s about as good as it’s going to get before it’s time to log in. I haven’t been at my computer all week, and I have to say, it’s felt good.

“Hello, Andi,” Nathan greets.

“Hi, Nathan. Sorry about the game this week. This is the first time I’ve been out of bed in days.” Not for the reason you think, but self-loathing feels just about as bad as a concussion does.

“I need to speak with you about a delicate matter.”

Shit. Here it comes. My hands grasp the edge of my chair until my knuckles ache with exertion.

“Okay.” I keep my face still, my expression unreadable.

“Leora Deventhorpe reached out to Sydney.”

While the name sounds vaguely familiar, I can’t place it, so I sit there, unmoving.

“She is in the public relations department with the Boston Buzzards.”

Oh God, it’s happening. I don’t know what I’m going to say in my defense. I’ll have to fess up. If he asks, I’ll admit it.

“The Buzzards are working with an organization called ...” He looks down and I hear papers shuffling. “JustSibs. They’re doing a soccer clinic prior to a game.”

Relief pours through my body like a dam breaking.

“Are you familiar with the organization?” he asks.

I nod slightly. My neck feels stiff. “Yes. I believe they work under another organization, but I can’t remember the name right now. My memory is a little fuzzy because of the concussion. JustSibs helps to support kids and teens with chronically ill siblings. I was looking at working with them because my brother has a form of muscular dystrophy. While I appreciated all the things the MDA and Make a Wish did for my brother, there was never really much to support me.”

There’s a long pause. “Ah, that makes sense now. Leora Deventhorpe asked if we could have some referees there before the game on September first to work on this event. She asked for you, specifically.”

Now I grip the sides of my chair to hold myself up. It takes every ounce of strength I have not to sag with relief.

“I wanted to check with you before I committed you to this event. We’ll go ahead and change your schedule around and put you on for the Buzzards–Wave match later that day. That’ll mean we have to take you off of two WUSSL matches due to conflicts. Are you okay with that?”

“Of course.” Nathan’s writing something down, and I can see his attention isn’t really on me. Since luck is on my side today, I decide to try one more thing. “I’m happy to help and be flexible,” I say with a smile, as if Nathan hasn’t been giving me the runaround about absolute bullshit for weeks. “One more thing. I need to check with payroll because it seems there’s been a clerical error. Do you have the pay schedule and rates for both the MUSSL and WUSSL games? I only need the ones for Level 3.”

Nathan’s still writing. “Do you want the men’s or the women’s tables?” he asks absent-mindedly before his head jerks up. “I meant the ones for the men’s league or the women’s league?”

Gotcha.

Sweetly I smile as I say, “I’ll take them all. Thanks so much! Let me know about the JustSibs thing. I’m happy to represent the USSLRA at such a meaningful event.”

I’m about to exhale a sigh of relief when Nathan suddenly narrows his gaze. “Is there anything you want to tell me about your involvement with the Boston Buzzards? Brandon Nix specifically?”

I know I’m going to hell for lying, but I have to try. “Actually, yes.”

This has his full attention.

I continue. “Brandon and I both have an interest in this charity. I have a disabled brother, and he has a sister who also has required a fair amount of care. This organization means a lot to the both of us. We’d both been in contact with JustSibs, and they asked us to work together to plan some activities. But that’s it. That’s why we’ve met on two occasions, to attempt to put our differences aside on behalf of this charity. We just both want to help siblings who are going through a lot. We realized how this could look, which is why we are going through our official channels.”

Nathan nods. “As long as nothing else is going on.”

I smile. “Nathan, how long have you known me? Do you really think I’d jeopardize everything for someone like Brandon Nix? I live for refereeing. You know that. This cause is about the only reason you’ll even catch me within a 500-yard radius of that man outside of game days.”

The best part about having to hide my expressions for my entire life is that no one knows how to read me. It makes me a convincing liar. Nathan buys it hook, line, and sinker. I might get away with this.

Now all I have to do is work one stupid charity event with Brandon, and I’m off the hook.

I just need to never think about kissing him—or more—again.

That’s easy.