My Rival
For two years, Ethan Reyes had only one goal that wasn't on the soccer field — beating Liam Carter.
If Liam scored one, Ethan needed two. If Coach praised Liam, Ethan stayed an hour after practice until his legs gave out.
They were teammates by roster. Rivals by choice. Enemies, according to everyone else on the university team.
He couldn't remember when it had started. Maybe when Liam, a freshman, stole the starting position Ethan had bled all summer for. Or maybe it was that smile after the winning goal in their first match together.
"Better luck next time, Reyes."
He had hated him since. At least, that's what he told himself.
"Reyes! Head in the game! Carter's coming down your side!"
Liam was already there, ball at his feet, moving too fast.
"Try not to fall behind," Liam called.
"Try giving me a reason to," Ethan shot back.
The whistle blew.
It stopped being practice. Every tackle hit harder, every pass sharper. Liam cut toward the box, the ball glued to his feet, and Ethan was right on his heels.
"Too slow."
"Keep talking."
One shot. Clean. Goal.
Liam turned, that infuriating grin back. "One."
Ethan picked up the ball, jaw tight. "Enjoy it."
"Planning to take it back?"
"Obviously."
"Looking forward to it," Liam laughed.
Ethan hated that laugh. He hated that smile. He hated how sure Liam always looked, like he already knew how this would end. Most of all, he hated how his own pulse jumped whenever Liam looked straight at him.
It was easier to call it rivalry. So he did.
Sunset had bled into night by the time practice ended. Ethan sat alone in the locker room, laces undone, when the door opened.
He didn't need to look.
"You're still here?" Liam asked.
"Liam."
"That's my name," he said, dropping his bag beside him — too close. "You know, for someone who supposedly hates me, you say my name a lot."
"I don't hate you."
"No?"
"I hate losing to you."
"That's very different."
The room fell quiet except for the hum of the lights. Ethan stared at the damp hair stuck to Liam's forehead, at the small, pale scar on his eyebrow. A thousand times he'd seen him. Why was he only noticing it now?
Liam caught him. "What?"
"Nothing."
"You were looking at me."
"I was thinking."
"About me?" Liam smiled.
Ethan stood too fast. "Don't flatter yourself."
Liam didn't let him walk away this time. He reached out and caught the strap of Ethan's bag.
"Ethan."
Lower. Quieter. Not teasing anymore.
Liam glanced at the closed locker room door. "We're good at keeping secrets, right?"
Ethan froze. "What secret?"
Liam leaned in just enough that Ethan could hear his breath.
"That we don't actually hate each other. That's the secret between us, isn't it?"
