Chapter 3: Welcome to the Grind
1572 Words
Nothing could've prepared Emma for the chaos that hit her the morning after she arrived on campus. Moving in four weeks early—four weeks—just to get through NCAA paperwork and dive into preseason training felt like overkill when she first heard about it. But now? She was beginning to think it might actually be necessary.
The night before, Emma had unpacked her stuff, met a few girls from the team, and settled into her dorm. It was a cozy little room, with standard-issue furniture and just enough space to make it feel like a prison cell with flair. Still, there was something exciting about decorating it with her favorite posters and photos from home.
After a quick welcome meeting with the team captains, Emma got her first glimpse of the personalities she’d be spending the next few months with. The room buzzed with chatter as teammates sized each other up. She was mid-conversation with a fellow freshman, a bubbly midfielder named Jess, when one of the captains addressed the group.
Rachel, a tall brunette with a commanding presence, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Her gaze landed on Emma. “So you’re the one from the Junior Olympic team last summer?” she said, her tone sharp but curious.
Emma blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “That was me.”
Jess’s eyes widened. “No way! I knew you looked familiar. You were incredible in those games. That goal you scored against Germany—insane.”
Before Emma could respond, Rachel smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head, rookie. I saw your film.” She paused for effect, her voice dripping with condescension. “Here? You’re nothing special. You’re not in Kansas anymore.”
A few of the upperclassmen chuckled, and Emma felt her cheeks heat up. She bit back a retort, muttering under her breath, “I’m not from Kansas.”
The tension hung in the air for a moment before another captain, a redhead named Claire, clapped her hands. “Alright, ladies, let’s not scare off the new blood just yet. We’ve got plenty of time for that on the field.”
The room eased into laughter, but Emma could feel the weight of Rachel’s words pressing down on her. She straightened her spine, forcing a small smile, and made a silent promise to prove herself.
Despite the jab, the team seemed welcoming enough—some smiling, others reserved, but all sizing her up in one way or another. She’d gone to bed with her nerves and excitement tangling into one restless knot, wondering if she was ready for this next chapter. But by 5 AM, there was no time for overthinking—only action.
Emma woke up before her alarm even had the chance to scream her into consciousness. She’d set it for 5:15, but her brain decided nerves worked better than any alarm clock. Throwing on her training gear, grabbing her water bottle, and slipping on her well-worn sneakers, she headed to the field.
“This is it,” she told herself. “Time to prove you belong here.”
She thought she was in shape—varsity all four years of high school, training almost every day, running miles without breaking a sweat. But Division I soccer had a way of humbling even the fittest. The conditioning session was brutal. Sprints, cone drills, laps, and circuits. The coaches pushed them to the edge and then some, shouting instructions that somehow made everything sound simultaneously motivational and terrifying.
“You think you’re tired? That’s not tired! Dig deeper!”
Emma’s legs felt like they were on fire. Her lungs? Useless. Every time she thought the torture was over, the whistle blew, and they were off again. She’d never sweat this much in her life. Was this legal? She wasn’t entirely sure.
By the time it ended, Emma’s body had reached a level of exhaustion she didn’t know was possible. She practically crawled back to the locker room, took the world’s longest shower, and sat on the bench with a towel draped over her head like a defeated boxer. She wasn’t sure how she was going to survive another day of this, let alone an entire season.
But there was one thing she couldn’t skip: food. The cafeteria—or “The Union,” as everyone called it—was a giant food court on steroids. Emma had heard about it during her campus visit, but seeing it in person was next level. There were smoothie stations, a grill with burgers and fries, pasta bars, and even a sushi counter. She grabbed a plate, loaded it up with whatever her shaky hands could reach, and turned to find a seat. That’s when she ran into him.
Literally.
BAM.
Her phone almost flew out of her hand as she smacked into what felt like a brick wall. Stumbling back, she looked up—and holy crap. The “wall” was a guy. A huge guy. He was at least six foot three, built like he moonlit as a superhero, and had this effortless confidence that made her feel small in the best and worst ways. His tray of food was piled with what looked like half the cafeteria’s offerings: pancakes, eggs, bacon, and…was that a bowl of cereal on top of it all?
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Emma blurted, stepping back and gripping her plate like it was a shield.
The guy didn’t even flinch. He just looked down at her, one eyebrow raised, a half-smile playing on his lips. “You good?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, with the kind of calm that said he was used to people running into him—probably on purpose.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she said, trying to steady her voice. “Totally distracted, my bad.”
He chuckled, shifting his tray to one hand like it weighed nothing. “No worries. You sure you’re okay?”
Emma nodded furiously, her cheeks burning. “Yup. All good.”
“Alright,” he said, grinning. “Try not to knock anyone else over, though.” With that, he turned and walked to a table, joining a group of equally intimidatingly large guys who all looked like they belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine.
Emma’s brain took a solid thirty seconds to reboot. She shuffled to an empty table, setting her plate down and sinking into the chair like she’d just survived a natural disaster. Her stomach growled, but she was too busy replaying the scene in her head to eat. The way he’d smiled at her, like he was amused but not in a mean way. The way his teammates had glanced over and whispered something she couldn’t quite hear.
And then she caught it.
“Who’s that?” the guy had asked, his tone casual but curious.
One of his teammates laughed. “Man, she’s gotta be on the women’s team. She’s gorgeous.”
Emma’s cheeks flushed even more. She forced herself to eat, staring intently at her plate as if it held all the answers to life’s mysteries. She wasn’t here to get distracted by guys - she technically had a guy at home. She was here for soccer, for herself, for her dreams. Still, she couldn’t help sneaking a glance at him every now and then. And every time she did, she swore he was looking back.
Later that afternoon, as Emma walked back to her dorm, she saw him again. Alex was standing outside with a few of his friends, leaning against a railing and laughing about something. Emma hesitated. She could keep walking, pretend she didn’t see him, or…she could say hi. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose, right?
Taking a deep breath, she walked over. “Hey,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I’m Emma. Women’s soccer. You’re on the men’s team, right?”
Alex turned, his face lighting up when he saw her. “Yeah, that’s us,” he said, standing a little straighter. “I’m Alex. Nice to meet you, Emma.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she replied, feeling an embarrassing flutter in her chest. “You guys must burn, like, a million calories a day with the way you eat.”
He laughed, the sound rich and easy. “Something like that. Gotta keep the energy up. How’s preseason treating you?”
Emma groaned dramatically. “Let’s just say I’ve discovered muscles I didn’t know existed. But hey, I’m surviving.”
Alex grinned. “That’s the spirit. It gets easier…kind of.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, and Emma couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to talk to him. He had this laid-back confidence that made her feel comfortable, even when her brain was screaming at her to stop blushing every time he smiled. Eventually, she made an excuse to leave, not wanting to overstay her welcome.
“Well, I should probably go crash before tomorrow’s practice kills me,” she said with a smile. “Good luck with yours.”
“You too,” Alex replied, giving her a nod. “See you around, Emma.”
As she walked away, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe college wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
- Writer
