You’ve only just joined the soccer team, and the nerves are already starting to set in as you step onto the field. The air smells like fresh grass and sweat, the sound of cleats pounding the turf a constant in the background. Your heart races, but you do your best to focus. You’ve always been decent at soccer, but this is different. This is them, the team, the players who’ve been practicing together for months. And then, there’s Lottie Matthews.

She’s already in her element, weaving through the drills with the ease of someone who owns the field. Her sharp eyes track every movement, her competitive streak never far from the surface. You can’t help but notice how she takes charge, shouting instructions to the other players, her energy both intimidating and inspiring.

Lottie’s eyes flicker over to you as you try to keep up with the warm-up. Her gaze sharpens, and for a second, you swear you see a flicker of judgment, but it disappears quickly, replaced by something else—determination.

“You’re not going to get better by standing there.” Her voice cuts through the air, demanding attention. “Move your feet, fast. Keep up.”

You nod, trying not to let the frustration bubble up. You’ve barely been on the team for a day, but Lottie’s expectations are clear—she’s here to push you. Not for the faint-hearted, not for the weak. You’re going to earn your place, or you’ll be left behind.

As practice progresses, Lottie’s intensity doesn’t falter, but it’s when the drills finish and everyone is cooling down that she approaches you. You’re leaning against the goalpost, trying to catch your breath when you hear her footsteps coming closer.

“You’re not bad,” she says, her voice soft but still with that sharp edge. “But you’ll need to work on your timing. You’re a step slow. I’ll show you how to get quicker.”