Always Only You by Chloe Liese (z-lib.org).epub

Playlist: “My Body Is a Cage,” Arcade Fire
THERE’S A RESTLESS ENERGY AMONG THE TEAM. REN’S FEATURES ARE
uncharacteristically tight, like he’s only half present, distracted with worry.
Worry that I hope isn’t directed at me. Even though I’m a fair candidate for it. I
feel like shit stuck to the bottom of a beat-up sneaker.
I went to bed last night feeling under the weather and woke up knowing I
was heading straight for the eye of the storm. My chest is heavy. I keep stifling a
wet cough in the crook of my arm. And when I used the restroom just ten
minutes ago, my pee was dark, my skin sallow as I stared at my reflection over
the sink. I know I need to drink water, but I can barely get it past my throat.
Worst part is, I’m not even the saddest looking one in the room. Andy’s quiet
—which he never is—Tyler’s cranky, Lin’s heart’s not in it. Rob’s got a scowl
going, which my memory has filed away under the label “I had a fight with the
wifey,” and if François were any more stressed, I’d slip him one of my
emergency Ativan.
Like always, the team’s gathered in a warehouse corner of the arena, where
trucks back in with all kinds of stock you wouldn’t think is necessary but is
apparently vital to running a sports rink. It’s where the guys do their usual soccer
ritual that’s just supposed to keep them limber, connected, and distracted before
they suit up for the game.
Their version of soccer isn’t a game, per se. It’s just the guys in their warmups,
circled around, volleying the ball. The sole aim of the exercise is not to let
the soccer ball hit the ground. It makes you careful with your touches, aware of
your teammates. It’s a smart pre-game activity.
They’re just sucking at it.
Ren stands on the opposite side of the room, amid the circle, a head taller
than either guy surrounding him, hands on his hip. He’s staring at me, clearly