I wasn’t very impressed with Jess the first time I met her, or at least I didn’t want to be. I was still pissed off about what happened between Paul and me a couple of weeks ago, and I wasn’t in any mood to play nice with some new girl moving in.
She had brown hair and dressed like she always did: tee shirt, sports bra, athletic shorts, tube socks, sometimes with shin guards when she was getting serious, and of course, soccer shoes. Well, I thought to myself, she has the right outfit for a soccer player; let's see if she’s got anything else (or, like most girls, does she just like playing dress up).
Jess was helping her mother move into their new house, pulling her stuff out when her soccer ball slipped away from her and started rolling towards me. We then exchanged our first three words, two of which were mine.
“Hey kid,” I called out, and with a sharp kick and a nasty little backspin, I shot the ball back to her, rising a foot or so off the ground, just to see if she could handle it.
“Let’s see what she’s got,” I thought to myself, not expecting much.
Jess raised her left leg to deaden the ball, which then fell harmlessly to the ground.
“Thanks,” she said and turned away.
“Hmph,” I said to myself, not yet impressed. “Let’s see what she can do on the soccer field.”
I saw her again that afternoon on the fields, standing on the sidelines and checking Paul and me out as we ran through some drills. It was then, I first noticed she had the most gorgeous pair of legs, long and lean, and tan from so much exposure on the fields. I could see right up her luscious thighs to where her skimpy little gym shorts barely cut off the view. I started imagining those legs wrapped around my body, squeezing me closer, and closer... I couldn't help it.
She saw the way I was looking at her and gave me a seductive little smile.
"Hey Jeff!" Paul yelled. "What the fuck?"
Paul had just passed me the ball which went right by me. The girl smiled again and gave off a little laugh to herself, amused by how easily she was able to divert my attention, as the ball ended up right by her.
“Hey kid," I said. "The ball.”
“You want it?" she said seductively and looking right at me. "Come and get it.”
Annoyed, I trotted over to get the ball when she quickly dribbled to her left, sidestepping my advance. I didn’t have time for this. I tried to follow her movements, but she was too quick and got away from me again.
“So, you want to play?” I said to myself, “Okay, let's play."
I charged directly at her, using all my strength, speed, and guile to show her what she was up against. It took me longer than I expected, but I got the ball back, only to have it stolen from me almost immediately.
Paul, of course, was no help. He was standing by the side, totally amused, wondering how this was going to end. I finally got the ball back again, only to have it stolen a second time, really pissing me off. This time I charged at her, throwing all my weight around, since I easily had thirty pounds on her.
I used an aggressive move, tripping her up that I knew could have been called a foul in a regular game. But this wasn’t a game, and there were no officials to call it. So I left her face-first in the dirt, sprawled out in the dust.
I picked up my ball and turned away, walking back to Paul, when she shoved me hard and from behind, causing me to lose my balance and the ball. I turned around, and the two of us started furiously cursing each other out, both ready to take this alteration to a whole new level. Had it not been for Paul, my first real interaction with that nice new girl on the block that my mother told me about could have easily ended up in a fistfight.
“Alright, calm down you two,” Paul said, standing between the two of us. He looked directly at the new kid, a girl who played as well as any guy I knew. “You’re not bad,” he said to her. She nodded.
“You thirsty?” he added. The girl just shrugged.
“How about you Jeff? Thirsty?” I shrugged too.
“I know these three kids playing in the fields over there who think they’re hot shit,” Paul said. “They like to play for money, five bucks a game. We can take them. You up for it?”
“I guess,” I said. The kid just shrugged and said, “Sure.”
“I got two bucks on me,” Paul said. “How much money you got?”
Together, we could only scrounge up four bucks. “That should do it,” Paul said. “They got three guys, and we only have two and a girl. They ought to cut us a break.”
As we got close, Paul said, “I know these guys. They're all assholes. Let me do the talking.”
"Yeah," I snarled, turning to the girl. “And don’t act so tough."
"Fuck you,” she replied. This wasn’t going to be easy.
And so Paul approached them and started the bargaining process, filled with bluffs and insults, trying to intimidate each other and get the upper hand in the negotiation. It was all bullshit and Paul was good at it.
Finally, things were pretty settled. We would play on half the field, like a half-court game in basketball. First to score five goals wins. The one sticking point was us only having four bucks to their five. Paul argued it was only fair since we were playing two guys and a girl to their three guys. But they weren’t buying it. Then Jess added the finishing touch.
“You’re not afraid of losing to a girl, are you?” she said, with that seductive little smile of hers and half a wink.
That totally pissed them off, and they huddled, arguing among themselves about what to do. Finally, their leader (I guess) said,
“OK, five dollars to four, but we get the ball first. Cynthia will hold the money."
This youngish girl, I guess the leader’s girlfriend, meekly raised her hand.
Paul looked back at us and we both nodded in approval. He gathered our four bucks together and brought it over to Cynthia.
"Thanks,” she said. “I’ll keep it safe.”
Before we started, we finally learned each other’s names. “I’m Paul, and this is Jeff,” Paul said. I nodded silently. "Jess,” the new girl said, and so we started calling her by her real name instead of just “Kid”.
Then we briefly talked strategy. Jess would cover the guy taking the ball out, since she was pretty good at stealing off the dribble. Paul and I would take the wings. If Jess got beat, one of us would shift over, depending on which side the action was on, while the other would rotate over from the weak side, covering the goal. It was kind of a combination of zone and man-to-man and all pretty standard, but we now knew our roles and would come to trust each other as the game progressed.
Offensively, it would be mostly give and go, passing and cutting to the goal. We were also good rebounders, especially Paul, who could score off of missed shots and broken plays better than anyone I knew.