Finally, she gives in and hugs me back, leaning her head into my chest. “Ugh, I was okay. I missed two goals though. Didn’t you see?”

Now that’s what drives me crazy. I grab her arms and hold her out so I can see her face. A sheen of sweat coats her brows and hairline, though her edges remain perfectly laid. Her lips are twisted up in confusion, but it’s her eyes that I really want to see or rather I want them to see me when I say what I have to say.

“I said you were amazing out there and I meant that.” I hate when she doesn’t see herself clearly. I take a step back from her so that I can hold my hand out in front of her face. “You see this?”

Her brows furrow. “Uh, your hand? Yeah, I see it.”

“Pretend this is your mirror.”

“I’m lost.”

“Pretend I’m holding a mirror up to you so you can see yourself. The real you. Not the version your dad wants you to see.” Her dad comes to all of her games and he never has a positive word to say afterward, only ways to improve. I hate it. Why can’t he see the raw talent his daughter possesses? “So what do you see?” I ask.

She blows out a harsh breath and studies my hand as if the lines in my palm can give her the answers she wants.

“I see…a sweaty girl who’s exhausted after practice.”

“Okay. Fine. What else?”

She looks around to see if her teammates are watching her literally talking to my hand, but no one is paying us any attention. Most of them are packing up and heading out.

“Kai, can we do this later? At your place?”

“Nope. We can’t leave this spot until you tell me what you see.”

“Well, it’s not actually a mirror so I can’t see anything.”

“Ohhh, my bad. I thought I was dating Olivia, the girl with a wicked imagination.”

She slaps me in the chest, rolling her eyes. “Alright, fine.” She straightens her back and levels her eyes back on my palm. “I see a girl who loves this sport so much. A girl who’s really freaking good at it too. A girl who needs to stop being so hard on herself.”

“Good. That’s good. What else?”

“You want more?” Her eyes double in size.

“I want you to keep talking until you actually believe the words coming out of your mouth.”

She stomps her right foot and starts to say something but I cut her off. “Don’t tell me. Tell the mirror.”

She closes her eyes for a brief moment and then locks her eyes onto my hand. “I see a girl who is gonna be a pro soccer player one day. I see a girl who’s gonna win a World Cup one day. I see a girl who loves soccer. I see a girl who loves…herself!”

“Say that again.”

“I…I love myself,” she stutters.