A/N: Thank you so, so much for all your reviews. I'm in awe at the sheer amount I get for each chapter now—this story has grown so much from the first chapter, and I don't take a single one of them for granted. I love you all so much it hurts.

On a more serious note, today is Suicide Awareness Day. For those of you who still want to honor anyone who's ever thought about suicide, attempted it, or even succeeded in it, write either "LOVE" on your wrist or wear something yellow. I know personally what it's like to come close to suicide, so this day really means a lot to me, and it should mean a lot to everyone.

This chapter is also dedicated to my good friend Taylor, also known as lights-guide-you-home. She recently stopped writing on FanFiction because she wants to focus on school—much like I'm doing next year—and since I haven't gotten around to writing my proper goodbye-I'll-miss-you one-shot for her yet, this chapter is sort of a substitute gift. I hope you enjoy it, Taylor, because I LOVE YOU GIRL.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.

"I've worked too hard and too long to let anything stand in the way of my goals. I will not let my teammates down and I will not let myself down."

…

—Mia Hamm

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Matters Of The Heart

"Practice is cancelled," Kim announced on a breezy Wednesday afternoon, striding into the boys' locker room. "Thought you guys should know."

The door had swung open with a loud bang, startling several of the male players and the sight of Kim bursting in had given them a near heart attack. Several of the boys screeched and tried to cover up their boxers, but Kim didn't give them a second glance and instead stared determinedly at the ceiling, politely giving them a few seconds to gather their wits.

Jack looked up from where he was changing his shirt and asked the question everyone was dying to voice: "Why?"

"Well," Kim said, carefully avoiding his gaze and instead turning to look at Jerry, who was standing in nothing but his soccer socks and Pokemon boxers, "Rudy took Tip-Tip to the vet—the cat swallowed a cell phone or something. And Phil can't sub for Rudy because the restaurant is super busy now."

"Phil?" The awkwardness in the air was irritating Jack, to say the least. Yes, they had been at a sort of half-decided agreement since Sunday morning, when Kim had revealed nearly everything, but that didn't mean that they couldn't look each other in the eye, right?

"Falafel Phil," Milton supplied, much to Jack's disappointment. Milton wasn't changing, as his ankle was still wrapped up from the latest accident, but he had been in the locker room talking to the rest of the players and giving them a few pointers for the upcoming playoffs. His time in the hospital had been suspicious—Julie had gone to see him the first night and then, as if by magic, they had begun to heal—but Jack was glad that he was back and more vibrant that he had been before.

Milton was different…in a good way. He sometimes still looked tired, but he was no longer pale, no longer seemed drawn-out. And Jack had noticed a definite improvement in Julie—in the way she dressed, in the way she acted around everyone.

It seemed as if everything was going back to normal…somewhat.

Kim switched her gaze to the floor and leaned against a row of lockers as Milton continued, "He's one of Rudy's best friends and even though he can't play to save his life, he loves soccer. He sometimes helps Rudy out when Rudy's busy or something."

"Why can't we just hold practice without him?" Jack waved his hands, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

"We need adult supervision," Jerry rolled his eyes, mimicking a snobby tone. "Or else something drastically horrible could happen!"

Jack winced at the high pitch of Jerry's voice as he slipped on another shirt.

Kyle tilted his head as he considered this new development, "It's good that his restaurant is getting more business, though. I heard that it was getting into a few rough spots."

"Yeah," Kim nodded uncomfortably. Jack noticed her eyes flicking back and forth between his torso and the floor, and he felt momentarily gratified that Kim was trying her hardest not to look at him.

He still meant something to her. Something was better than nothing, at least.

"Well," Kim clapped her hands to break the tension in the room; Jack and Kim seemed to have this silent conversation going on (which really was a pity, as Jack didn't know what they would have said) and the other male players were trying to give them space. "I'm just going to…go now."

Jack looked up and saw the entire male half of the team—Jerry, Milton, Eddie, Kyle, Pete, and Evan—all staring at either Kim or him.

Awkward…

Kim straightened up and pushed the door open with a mumbled goodbye, disappearing out the door that led to the track and the fields.

And, as if on instinct, Jack sprang into action. He stuffed his soccer clothing into his locker, slammed it shut with a sweeping gesture, and grabbed his backpack, hurtling himself over a bench and heading out the swinging door after her. He barely made it through the closing crack and his elbow scraped against the corner, making him hiss in pain.

He just managed to catch her arm as she turned the corner in the hallway, and she spun back around with a panicked expression plastered across her face. "What?" she breathed, her voice high and pitchy for a second.

Jack frowned at her jumpiness but chose to dismiss it. "Have you thought about…us?"

"All I ever do is think about that," Kim admitted wryly. "And it's hard enough holding practices with you there, but with you as my co-captain it's even harder. I'm not used to having someone else help me."

Jack shrugged, "So, I'm taking some responsibility off of your hands. That's good, because you need to relax."

The heavily implied meaning hung in the air for an tense second before Jack asked, "Can we talk?"

"Talk?" Kim considered it. "Where? And what about?"

Jack shrugged. "Anything, really. I just want to talk to you. You don't have to give me an answer, but I miss being able to talk to you without anything catastrophic happening."

Kim tilted her head to the side for a minute before the tiniest of smiles broke out across her nervous features. "Tell you what. I was planning on running a full mile today because I haven't really done it in a while—you can run with me, if you want. Oh, and if you can keep up," she added with an arched eyebrow.

"Challenge accepted," Jack nodded, putting on the show of being offended before his expression morphed back into normal again. "I'll meet you on the track in say…five minutes?"

"Sure."

"Bring your best running shoes," Jack deadpanned. "And by the way…you look really nice today."

Kim looked taken aback by his seemingly random compliment, and Jack hurried to fill in the space, "I mean, your outfit's…nice."

The blonde was dressed in denim skinny jeans, with ankle-high brown boots and a blazer slung on over a dark green top. Jack looked at the delicate scarf wrapped around her neck and continued, "I think you should wear your hair up more."

His hand reached out tentatively, as if asking for permission. Kim flinched at first but then attempted to relax, and he managed to catch a few loose strands of her hair that had somehow managed to escape her ponytail and tuck it slowly behind her ear. "You look nicer with your hair up. Fiercer, but at the same time, softer."

It was true. Even with the scarf on, the absence of the usual blonde hair waving past her shoulders was very noticeable and her collarbones were more prominent, as was the curve of her face and her profile. She looked sharper, but in a way, she also looked more familiar. More like someone he knew.

"I always wear my hair up for practice and for games," Kim pointed out, her voice weak. She plucked at her scarf somewhat mournfully, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"I know," Jack shrugged, letting his hand fall to his side. "But I mean, during school. Outside of sports, I guess. You look really beautiful with your hair up. It's different, but a good different."

"…Thank you. So, I'll met you at the field in five?" Kim tried for a smile, but her voice seemed close to breaking.

Jack tried to tamp down on his disappointment. "Yeah. Sure. And you're going to lose, by the way."

Her laugh still rung in his ears a minute later as he was changing.

"Yeah right, Anderson."

Eddie hummed to himself as he spun around in the kitchen, trying to make something to eat. Having Home Ec as the very last period of the day usually took its toll on him, like when they were about to put the cookies in the oven and the bell had rung.

Damn.

So, to console his raging hunger, he'd simply waltzed into the kitchens and decided to make himself a sandwich. The lunch ladies—particularly Marge—knew him well and allowed him to use the kitchen whenever he felt like it, as long as he didn't mess with the preparation for the upcoming meals or take too much food. School had just let out for the day and since there was no practice, he'd headed straight to the kitchens for some good ol' baking.

Eddie tilted his head as he considered what soccer practices were usually made up of now. Unsurprisingly, after the last official game of the season, Kim had made Jack co-captain. Normally, this would have been a good idea and an intelligent move on her part, as Jack was excellent at soccer, coaching, and encouragement, but some…things had gone down between Jack and Kim and now everything was awkward.

Like when they spoke at the same time, while giving instructions on a drill or an exercise, or when they were backing each other up on a claim or a reason to do this or that in a situation. Usually Jack would be the more open, warmer one, and Kim would avoid his gaze, kinda-sort-of intentionally ignoring him.

Well, ignoring him as best as one could when the person you were ignoring happened to be your co-captain.

So, the extent of their conversation was awkward talk about soccer. Practices were less efficient than they had been before, and it was starting to get on hsi nerves.

Eddie's eyebrows drew together as he looked in one of the numerous toaster ovens, trying to gauge the right time to take out his sandwich. When the cheese looked somewhat melted, he opened the little door, wincing at the hot air that practically assaulted his face with a slap. Sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration, he turned the heat off and reached in with an oven mitt—

"Looks good, Eddie."

Eddie jumped about five feet in the air, nearly burning the part of his arm that wasn't covered by the mitt and turned around to see Stacey Wiseman grinning at him, a smirk lighting up her features.

"Stacey!" Eddie was sure his face was turning red. "Hey, I um…didn't see you there."

"I figured," she rolled her eyes before hopping down from her perch on the stool behind the counter and walking up, examining the sandwich that Eddie was attempting to extract from the oven again with an air of slight interest. "What's up?"

"I'm a little confused, actually," Eddie answered as he laid the little tray on the counter and prepared to add tomatoes and lettuce. "How'd you get back here?"

"I was looking for you, and Marge let me in," Stacey shrugged, flicking back a lock of dark hair and looking at the half-completed sandwich nonchalantly. "Since practice is cancelled, I have made it my mission to consume calories. Where'd you learn to make a sandwich like this? Toasting it? Really? The closest I get to making a sandwich is slapping peanut butter and jam on two pieces of white bread."

Eddie considered his answer, "I go to Subway a lot."

Stacey laughed, a soft giggle that sent a warm feeling flooding through Eddie's veins. "Right. So do I, but I don't scrutinize their every move."

"Yeah, well…" Eddie was at a loss for what to say. He contemplated the newly completed sandwich for a moment before offering it to her, "You want it?"

Her eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"I'll make another one," Eddie shrugged.

Stacey's bright blue eyes lit up even more and she took the sandwich, politely waiting for him to finish the second one before they both started eating together. "Mmm, this is heaven," she sighed dreamily as she chewed.

Eddie looked down, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Eddie wasn't really sure what to say, so he chewed slowly on his meal. He wasn't that comfortable around girls, but around Stacey he felt more at ease than he had around other people of the female gender.

Interesting.

Stacey was on the soccer team but Eddie didn't really talk to her. They weren't exactly in the same social circles, after all. She was a defender and got more time on the bench than Eddie, which left her more room to socialize off the team, but other than that he didn't know much about her.

"So, what do you think about all this Jack and Kim dynamic stuff?" Stacey asked him as she chewed.

Jack and Kim again, Eddie thought bitterly, but he kept his spirits high—after all, this was Stacey Wiseman and she actually wanted to talk to him. "They're awkward," Eddie replied truthfully. "Something went on between them the night of the game, but no one's spilling."

Stacey's foot bumped his under the counter playfully and Eddie snapped out of his pessimistic mood. "Do you think they'll work it out?"

When Eddie didn't respond, she added softly, "They're two really strong players. They're friends, and I think they should be able to figure out if they want to be more than that."

"I guess we'll see," Eddie nodded before grinning at her. "Do you want another sandwich?"

She laughed. "Sure. But I won't be able to eat dinner, then."

"That's okay with me."

Kim hated feeling confused.

It was a stupid feeling, really. Kim was usually direct, and she wore her heart on her sleeve. Trying to conceal everything she'd been thinking about these past few days in front of Jack was tiring—no, it was utterly exhausting. And on top of that, she didn't know what she was thinking.

All she saw when she closed her eyes was vision of Jack, memories. The rainy day that had sent Kim into a major freak-out session, and their conversation in the gym. His unfailing patience and loyalty, no matter what. Scoring goals next to him, achieving a victory together. He'd backed her up, every single time. He was heartbreakingly kind and accepting of her, regardless of whatever she told him.

Like the Ricky Disaster.

Despite her initial opinion that telling him about everything was a huge mistake, she'd gradually come to accept the fact that the reason she felt that particular way was because it put herself down, showed him just several of her many imperfections. He deserved to know—he was a good friend and a loyal teammate, and it was bound to slip out anyway.

She just wished the situation had been different. She wished that she hadn't been delirious off of her emotions, that she hadn't been close to breaking, that she—

"Kim?"

She turned around to find Jack walking up the hill to the track, coming to stand by her. "Ready to run?"

"Sure," she offered him a half-smile, and they began to jog together. The playful competitiveness from the previous conversation they'd had seemed to have completely evaporated, and they ran in uncomfortable silence before she ventured, "So…how have you been?"

Jack rolled his eyes, his breathing timed perfectly with his steps. "Wow, Kim. We're friends, not random college classmates that haven't seen each other in years."

"Alright, what's up?" she tried again.

Jack tilted his head to the side. "Nothing, really. Just thinking. As I presume you've been doing too, of course."

She could have sworn that her cheeks burned like fire at this, but she swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, I have. I've been doing a lot of…thinking."

They jogged around the far bend of the track before Jack whispered, "Is it hard?"

"No," Kim shook her head. "Just a lot to think about. And you?"

"Yeah. Same." The corners of his lips pulled up in a smile, and something in her cracked.

He was still trying. She had to give it to him—he never gave up, and it was one of the things she loved—liked best about him. Since when did she love Jack? They were sixteen. Love wasn't really possible. She didn't believe she'd ever truly, really loved anyone in her life.

They were now nearing the end of their first lap, and as they crossed the line Jack asked, "How long are you going to make me wait for an answer?"

Kim froze completely, stopping in her tracks.

Jack skidded to a halt a few paces in front of her, startled at her sudden stop, and jogged backwards to meet her. "What? It was an honest question."

She swallowed, suddenly feeling her mouth dry up—and it wasn't because they'd been running. She managed to whisper, "How long are you willing to wait?"

"As long as it takes," he replied, truth evident in every single thing related to him—his voice, his actions, his face.

In that moment, everything was heartbreakingly, painfully clear to her.

It was as if a mirage of Ricky had appeared right next to Jack on the running track, and she was staring at two boys, two people, two soccer players. The taller one had piercing, ice-blue eyes and blond hair spiked up in the front, and a heart-wrenchingly cold expression. The brunet was just a bit shorter, but everything about him was warm—his brown eyes, his smile, the way he was looking at her.

Jack and Ricky.

Ricky and Jack.

They were so glaringly different that Kim couldn't believe it had taken her this long to register it, to fully believe it. It was as obvious as day and night, the difference between the sun and the moon—everything.

Jack was nothing like Ricky, and he would never be like the Black Dragon because he had pure, undiluted intentions.

Nothing like him.

"What?" Jack cocked his head, confused.

Kim realized that she'd said those three words out loud and blushed yet again, looking down at the track, at the dark green material beneath her feet. "Sorry, I'm thinking out loud. Just…give me a minute."

Jack fell silent, and she turned everything over in her head.

She was sure that she could trust Jack, mainly for one reason that had always been there—he'd trusted her when she hadn't done the same to him, when she hadn't returned the favor. He was loyal, he was patient, and he was simply good.

Now that she'd finally gotten it through to herself, the question was what she was going to do about it all.

"Come on," Kim shook her head to try to clear it. Her voice sounded oddly faint to her own ears, as if she were listening to it from miles away. "Let's just run."

"What are you thinking of doing tonight?" Jack asked Jerry after dinner that night.

The run with Kim had gone moderately well. After she'd oddly spaced out, they'd just talked, had a real conversation in what seemed like forever. It was refreshing not having to force anything out of her, or not having to pretend to hide anything.

Jerry flopped onto his bed, their dorm room silent before he replied, "Maybe hanging out with Grace…I finally have a girlfriend—dude, it feels so weird saying that, you know?"

Jack had been examining his Pre-Calculus homework with distaste, and his head snapped up at the mention of Grace and the world girlfriend in the same sentence. His eyes came into contact with Jerry's large grin, "Wait, what? Grace…girlfriend?"

Jerry's face fell, the smile sliding off his face like condensation running down a cold glass of water. "Uh…yeah? She's my girlfriend now. That's usually how dating works."

Jack rubbed at his temples furiously, wondering how he could have forgotten—or if he'd ever known this tidbit of info in the first place. "Did you tell me this or did I just have temporary amnesia?"

"Dude, I told you the night of the game," Jerry's tone wasn't angry yet; instead, it was wounded, and it pained Jack even more. The guilt grew in him as Jerry added, under his breath, "You've just been too focused on Kim to even register anything else."

Guilt stabbed at his insides, and he thought he recalled a faint memory of Jerry grinning happily in some sort of victory that night. His mind had been so preoccupied and blinded with happiness at what had happened between him and Kim on the soccer field that he'd kind of blocked everything out since then, including their fallout. "Dude…I'm sorry. I don't know how I could have forgotten."

"Yeah, I don't know either," Jerry voiced bitterly, turning away. "We've only been holding hands and kissing at lunch. But, of course, you wouldn't know, because you stare at Kim the whole time. Do you ever think about anything else anymore?"

Jack raised his eyebrows challengingly, his guilt converting into anger. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what happened to the guy we knew that loved soccer with a passion? The one that would give up anything for the sport, not just the girl?" Jerry threw down a pencil and stood up, facing Jack with anger tight on his face and in his voice. Jack remained rooted to his seat, unable to move in Jerry's freezing glare. "You don't even notice anything else anymore, you guys are making practices even worse because she refuses to look you in the eyes, and all you're focused on is getting the girl. Where are your priorities? We have playoffs soon, and Kim is acting like a little kid by crying and running away and running back to you!"

"Don't blame this on Kim!" Jack leapt up, finally propelled to his feet.

Jerry arched an eyebrow, "So you want to say it's all your fault? Because the way I see it, the blame can go both ways."

"I—" Jack's voice faltered, cracking. "Well—I mean, you're focused on Grace…"

Jack felt his insides crumbling as he registered the truth in Jerry's words, but he made a weak attempt to fight back. Jerry's face lit up in cold triumph, and it seemed to twist a knife in Jack's insides.

"Yeah. I have a girlfriend, but I'm still giving one hundred percent during practices," Jerry retorted. "She's making me better. I'm actually trying in school now, and even more during soccer. And what about you?"

Jack gritted his teeth. "Kim and I are fine. We're just having…disagreements."

"Yeah," Jerry mocked in a higher tone. "You both are totally fine. Kim's not acting like a little kid who can't decide which ice cream flavor she wants, and you are totally not a hopeless guy who just wants her and nothing else anymore. Don't you remember what soccer is? Or teammates? Or people other than Kim? Why don't you just give her space and let her think instead of crowding her and demanding answers?"

The sickening feeling of nothing other than the truth settled in Jack like dead weight, and shame washed over him, threatening to pull him under. If Jerry—easygoing, whatever-is-fine-Jerry—was feeling like this, what did the rest of the team think? There was something seriously wrong with him. He was twisting, he was changing, and all because of something stupid called love.

If he could call it love.

The fight was escalating fast, but Jerry put an end to it by storming out the door, Jack making an attempt to follow him to fix everything. To his disappointment, it was put to a jarring stop.

"I miss the old you," Jerry threw back at him before Jack got a door in his face, the slam reverberating through his eardrums.

Jack sat down on his bed, stunned, his breathing suddenly labored. He felt as if all the oxygen in his body had been knocked out of him with the force of Jerry's truthful words, each accusation like a punch to his gut.

Maybe it had.

The lights in the library were dim, but Milton felt like he was shining. Well, kind of. In other words, he felt great. This was his typical atmosphere, where he felt at home—in the large library, where he was alone with just the one person he cared most about.

As if hearing his thoughts, Julie looked up, giving him a soft smile before her hazel eyes returned to a textbook.

They were only two students left in the library now. The lights were off except for the two on their library desk as they studied quietly, occasionally making small conversation about the paper they were writing together.

Milton felt it again—the urge to grab a pill and swallow it, to put his slightly scrambled mind back together. It had been easy to resist these past few days, since he was out of soccer for his injury and didn't have that particular stress on him, but it would no doubt return as soon as he was given the okay to start practice again.

And they'd just been assigned a major paper. He was a soccer player, a student, leader of the Science Club, had volunteer jobs on the weekends, and was also planning on running for Student Council president. He had to keep his grades in tip-top shape and he couldn't let his guard down in practice and in games.

So, he had a lot of stress on him. Trying to be perfect came with a cost.

Julie had taken all the bottles and Milton had let her, but there was still that hunger in him, that addiction, the idea of the easy way out. It would be so simple, but if he gave into the temptation he would probably never forgive himself again.

Hazel orbs flicked to his blue ones, and she reached out across the table, uncrossing her legs and taking his left hand in her own, giving him something to hold onto.

Their pencils continued to scribble frantically across notebook paper and the scene remained the same, but suddenly Milton found it easier to breathe.

Grace lounged in her room, her feet propped up on her desk as her eyes flicked back and forth between her textbook and her phone. She was studying in her room and texting Jerry about his recent fight with Jack while the ever-present rumble of the shower continued to sound behind her in the bathroom, providing a slightly depressing aura to the evening.

She sighed, and was about to go check in on Kim when none other than the brunet walked into her room, looking nervous and a lot guilty.

"Hey, I'm sorry…but is Kim here?" Jack hedged, unusually timid. "I need to talk to her and it's really important."

Grace smiled wryly and stood up from her chair, twisting her feet onto the ground and slipping her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. "Let me guess. Your recent fight with Jerry snapped everything into some new, twisted perspective."

Jack's face fell, "He told you about that?"

"Something like it," Grace tilted her head to the side. "I'll leave the explicit words out of it, though, since it's not something you want to hear. He's just really angry. Jerry gets like that sometimes. I think he's just afraid…I think he's just afraid of what might happen."

Jack's eyebrows drew together, obviously confused. "What might happen?"

"Look, Jack," Grace stepped closer to him, trying to put it in a way that the fellow forward would understand. Her tone was gentle, "The last time that Kim was this secretive and jumpy and confused about something—or someone—was when she was with Ricky last season. And even though you're nothing like Ricky…look what happened to Jerry because of it."

Jack looked like he'd been physically punched in the gut and run over with a truck for good measure at that realization and a wave of pity washed over Grace. "Kim's in the shower," Grace told him, changing the subject. "She's been in there for a long time."

"Really?" Jack looked a bit confused.

"She's been there nearly the whole evening," Grace nodded, elaborating. "When she wants to think, she takes really, really long showers. Sometimes, she just sits down and doesn't move, just stays there under the water. It helps her think. She gets out when the hot water finally runs out—you can usually hear her scream because of it."

When Jack still looked a bit puzzled, Grace aimed her eyes at the floor. "She did it a lot last season."

Jack looked like he wanted to utter an apology, and had just opened his mouth when—

"Did what a lot last season?" Kat's head appeared in the open door, dark eyes bright with curiosity, and Grace and Jack flinched visibly. Kat's easy smile appeared as she loped into the room, her hands tucked into her pockets. "What, did I walk in on something scandalous?"

Jack coughed, "Not really."

A beat.

"Well," Grace clapped her hands, trying to clear the awkward air, grateful to Kat for bringing up a distraction. "Since Kim is in the shower, Kat, can we go to your room? Is Emma in there?"

"No, she's at rehearsals for the new Shakespeare play…" Kat narrowed her eyes in slight accusation and Grace and Jack. Grace widened her eyes innocently as Kat questioned slowly, "What do you want to do in my room?"

"A squat challenge," Grace declared mightily as she took the stairs, both Kat and Jack trailing after her with the air of two people who didn't know what the hell was happening. "The Call Me Maybe one."

"Oh, no," Kat and Jack refused adamantly at the same time.

Personally, Grace thought Jack looked grateful for the distraction, so she played along, shooting him a quick wink that sent a blush sweeping across his cheeks. "Come on," Grace whined. "I want a toned butt and legs—"

"They're already toned," Kat remarked sarcastically.

Grace aimed a sharp glare in her direction, and twisted the door open to Kat's second-floor dorm room. "Come on guys, will you please do it for me? I've done it a few times before but it's no fun without friends. You too, Jack. You look like you could use a distraction or something. And toned legs. Not that they're not already toned, of course."

Grace mentally facepalmed at her over-casual tone but had to hold back a smirk. Mentioning Jack's legs and the word toned in a single sentence was highly awkward, but at least it seemed to force him into conjuring up an actual reaction.

Jack's eyes widened in evident discomfort. "Um, Grace? I don't know if you've seen me, but I'm a guy and I'm not exactly the squatting type—"

"No excuses," Grace waved it off cheerfully as she pulled up the video on Kat's laptop. Kat was giving her a death glare as the defender flopped back on her bed, the dark red comforter settling around her and wrapping her in a red velvet skin. Jack looked apprehensive about this whole thing.

Five minutes of grumbling and slapping and blackmailing later, they were all staring at the video, Grace warning them that it was probably going to hurt.

And three minute and forty seconds later…

"SODDING HELL, GRACE! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

(SENT: 10:46 PM)

To: Jack A.

From: Kim C.

Jack, I need to talk to you. Face to face.

(SENT: 10:47 PM)

To: Kim C.

From: Jack A.

I'm assuming the hot water ran out?

(SENT: 10:47 PM)

To: Jack A.

From: Kim C.

Um…I don't know how you knew that but yes, it did. It was very therapeutic, so can you get your butt to my dorm room now? Bring a jacket, it's cold.

(SENT: 10:48 PM)

To: Kim C.

From: Jack A.

Why? And what about Grace?

(SENT: 10:48 PM)

To: Jack A.

From: Kim C.

It's important. And Grace isn't here, she's with Jerry or something. They're out in the courtyard.

(SENT: 10:50 PM)

To: Jack A.

From: Kim C.

…Jack? Are you still there?

(SENT: 10:55 PM)

To: Kim C.

From: Jack A.

…Okay. I'll be there.

Kim kicked at the door for the fiftieth time, the closet rattling on its hinges.

However, it didn't fall down, and she bit her lip, wondering if she should actually use the extent of the power in her soccer-trained legs and simply kick the door down with sheer force.

She was certainly capable of doing it, but then again, she was plopped down on the floor, not in standing position that would give her additional strength. Plus, it was as dark as ink from a pen in here and she couldn't see squat.

She tried again.

Thump.

"Kim!" Grace hissed, annoyance evident in her voice. "Stop it, you're going to blow everything!"

Kim kicked harder at the door, which Grace had somehow found a way to lock. "Of course I'm trying to blow it!" she gritted her teeth. "You're locking me in my own closet! And you're dragging Jack in here as well!"

Jerry's voice was weary, and the goalie's words floated to her through the cracks between the door and the wooden floor. "This is to benefit everyone, Kim. If we keep letting you guys skirt around each other like bees or something nothing is ever going to get done in practice. We're locking you two in here and not letting you out until you guys work it out. Fully."

Grace murmured something in agreement, and Kim could almost visualize the brunette crossing her arms.

Kim let out another grumble, but secretly she was grateful for this chance. Yes, she was locked in her own closet. Yes, she slightly crumpled on the ground with ropes bound crudely around her wrists and one of her only pairs of heels jabbing into her back like knives, and yes she was claustrophobic, but there was something in her that hoped that it would finally all work out.

"How exactly are you getting Jack over here?" Kim raised her voice so Grace could hear her.

"We used a little something called your phone," Grace called back.

Kim wiggled, trying to drag her bound wrists into her right pocket, and found that it was empty.

Well, Grace had some major pick-pocketing skills, Kim would give her that.

"Why don't you—"

"Shh!" Grace hissed at her. "He's coming!"

Kim's muscles tensed in anticipation, and she strained her ears to catch every hint she could.

"Ready?" Grace whispered to Jerry.

Jerry must have nodded, for five seconds later, there was a knock on the door of their dorm room.

The sound of a door being swung open.

"Kim? Why is it so dark? What are you—aghhh!"

The voice was undoubtedly Jack's, and it was raw with surprise. Next came the cacophonic thumps of bodies rolling against the floor, and Kim assumed that Jack was fighting back.

"Jack—it's—Jerry!"

Jerry was containing Jack while Grace fumbled with the lock on the closet door, and soon enough the doors had swung open, letting in a whoosh of fresh air, and a haphazardly blindfolded Jack had been shoved in, landing on a pair of Grace's stilettos and yelping in pain.

Kim had no idea Jack's voice could reach that high of a pitch.

The door slammed behind them again, and Kim crawled across the tight space, helping Jack work the blindfold off.

"Kim?" Jack asked incredulously, and he slipped his phone out of his pocket, illuminating the tiny area and Kim's bitter expression, along with her tied hands. "So…you don't actually want to talk to me? Okay, scratch that. What the hell is going on?"

His hands reached out to untie the ropes around her wrists and just as they came free, Jerry's voice reached them. "We're leaving you in here and not letting you out until you work everything out between you, got it? Talk, fight, make out, do whatever you have to do, but figure it out."

In the light of Jack's cell phone, Kim saw the brunet's slightly weary face flash with realization, but he said nothing.

Silence.

And more silence.

"I think they want us to give them privacy," Grace whispered gently to Jerry.

"Fine!" Footsteps moving across the floor. "We'll go in the bathroom and give you privacy. But you two had better talk!"

The slam of a door, and then all was silent.

Kim cleared her throat. "Um…I'm sorry they had to drag you into that."

Jack smiled wryly, "I think I should be used to it by now, actually. I've nearly been here a whole semester."

Kim shook her head, "No, I'm even surprised, and I've known them for over two years. It's the first time they've actually locked me in a closet, so this is a new experience for me."

There was a long pause, and then Jack tried, "So, I guess you've had a lot of time to think. In the shower, of course."

"Yeah." Kim had to bite back a laugh at Jack's slightly weirded-out expression. "It actually does work."

"So what did you come up with?"

Kim propped herself up, rubbing her wrists as she considered how to phrase it. "Well, first of all, I can't believe that it took me this long to get it into my head, but you're nothing like Ricky. I shouldn't be scared of you, and even though I tried to deny it at first, I think you had my trust from the very beginning. Even if I didn't know it myself."

Jack's voice was quiet, "Thank you. That means a lot."

"And second…" Kim swallowed. Apologizing didn't come naturally to her—she was usually the one that was in the right. "I'm sorry for acting like a kid. For pulling you in and then pushing you away, several times in a row."

Jack shrugged. "I have things to be sorry about too—I kept crowding you, I didn't let you think. I was too focused on this, and the team noticed. So I guess we were both wrong. Jerry knocked sense into me, but you figured it out all on your own."

Kim licked her lips, her mouth suddenly devoid of all moisture. "But I like you. A lot. And even though I tried to deny this too, I like you as more than a friend. And I do want to be your girlfriend."

Even though the lighting was dim, she could see the grin brighten up Jack's face, pulling up the corners of his lips.

"But…"

"But?" Jack repeated, wary.

Kim bit her lip, thinking out loud. "I want to take it slow. I don't want to rush into anything, and with playoffs this soon, it had me thinking…give me until the playoffs are over, until all the stress is gone. Until the very last second of the very last game. And then, if you still like me, I don't care whether we win or we lose—I'll be your girlfriend. We'll date, we'll go out, whatever normal couples do."

Jack's silence struck worry into her, and her cheeks paled. "You do want to be my boyfriend, right? Even though I've been really, really childish and stupid?"

"Of course I do," Jack smirked, his lips softening into a smile. "And it'll seem even sweeter when we win."

"We're definitely going to win," Kim grinned in satisfaction, and they slapped a high-five, standing up and brushing themselves off. "Right now, we'll concentrate on soccer. We'll win at the state championships. And then we'll find a way to balance it next season."

Jack's spirits seemed high, but his eyes softened, turning the exact shade of melted chocolate even in the bluish light from his cell phone, the only source of light in the closet. "Sounds like a plan. Just…can I do one more thing? Before we turn into soccer robots? Close your eyes."

"Sure…?"

The next thing she felt was Jack's lips on hers and his hands on her face, pulling her into a chaste kiss that sent her head spinning and her heart thumping at a speed that should have been illegal.

Several minutes later, they were breathing hard, pressed against the closet door. After such a long period of inactivity, the light from Jack's cell phone had simply shut off and died out, but she could still see his silhouette and the hint of a grin on his face.

"That was…something," Kim tried to find the words to say, thankful that he couldn't see the pink that was surely showing on her face.

Jack checked, "No more awkwardness?"

"None," Kim confirmed.

"Good." Even Jack's voice seemed to be smiling. "Then from now on until the playoffs, it's about soccer. Now, let's make a noise loud enough for Jerry to hear so he can let us out and we can kill him for kidnapping us."

"Sounds like a plan."

A/N: Angry!Jerry is extremely hot. Just putting it out there.

Anyway, there you have it—Jack and Kim's new relationship status. No more commentary on that, but I guess it'll keep you hanging on until the very last playoff game—which, by the way, will happen in this story. KICK SHIPPERS, I HOPE YOU'RE FREAKING HAPPY NOW.

HEADS UP: This story will be twenty-five chapters long, so I have about six to go. If you want to count down, that is how you do it. :D

And for the record, the Call Me Maybe workout does burn. I've been doing it every single day for a week or so now and I'm not sure why, but after a while it gets addicting. I dare you to all to try it.

Thanks so much for reading—and reviews would be lovely.

—Ariana x