Bridget ran onto the field in her Jersey and shorts. Her stunning banana blonde hair glowed in the sunlight. She waved to Dana, another teammate. Together they crossed the field to where the cluster of girls stood. After a few months of not seeing each other, they greeted everyone warmly. Bridget had been the star of the team, even in her freshman year. Ever since that summer in Baja, she had devoted herself to her game. The only thing was that she hadn't set foot in Baja since that summer. While she had been invited back every year since, the memories of those months were too painful to re-live. Her life had been devoted to soccer, and had been on a one-mind track. Guys still flocked to her, but quickly exited her life as soon as they realized she didn't care about them.

"Hey, Vreeland!"

The girls motioned for Bridget to come to the center of the circle where they all told her the latest news.

"I heard, he's soooo cute."

"I heard he played in Brazil for a while."

"No, it was France."

"Woah, woah! What's going on?" Bridget interrupted them all.

Kelly, a blonde girl explained.

"There's a new Assistant Coach. He's only twenty-four, but he's REALLY good, apparently."

"What-"

Bridget was cut off as the coach blew her whistle.

The girls all sat down for the usual long lecture before each season.

"Welcome back to all of our players from last year, and welcome to all of our new players. I'm Coach Anderson, but you know that. Here's the way I run my team. I don't take nonsense. I don't take fooling around. When you're here, you play. You focus. I don't like you going and getting drunk on the weekends…especially on Friday nights before a match. You don't do drugs, you don't take steroids, and you don't give me lip. Understood? Good, cause if not, then you're in for a tough year. I know all your names, and I know your playing capabilities. I scouted you. Today, I just want to see you as you play as a team."

Bridget smiled. This was what she had waited for all summer. Coaching at home had been great, but nothing could beat playing ball with equals. Except…well, maybe playing for the FIFA (I found it somewhere).

"There's one more thing."

Everyone looked at Anderson, their attention rapt.

"I have a new assistant coach this year. Amy Stites has moved to Florida, so we've hired a new one. Meet Eric Richman."

At that moment, Bridget's head snapped up from where she was tying her laces. He was the same. Same dark hair, same eyes, same body, and same smile. The same smile that she had been trying to block from her memory for just over four years. He had grown just a bit, or so it seemed. Somehow, even though he hadn't physically changed, he looked older. He just did.

"Now! I have to go do some scheduling, so I'm leaving you with Richman. I'll be back, and I'll see you play, so don't worry. No heroics. Your positions are with Richman."

With that, Anderson turned her back, and walked off the field. Eric looked over the clipboard he had been handed by Anderson, and took control.

"I'm just as tough as Anderson when I want to be, so don't fool around…" His eyes twinkled, "But have your fun." He winked at them as he read out their positions. One by one, the girls walked to their said positions.

"Abbot, goalie. Sinclair, Right Defender. Moore, Left Defense…"

He stopped for a second as his voice caught on the next name.

"Vreeland…Bridget. Left middie." He had trailed off towards the end, as she stood up and met his eyes. She took the field, and they began to play.

Her mind was on anything but soccer.



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