Nobody knew she had a crush on her soccer coach. Not a soul.
Except her parents, who watched her get ready every evening with just a little more gusto than anything else she did in life. She would always very carefully figure out what outfit would look good without trying too hard, you know, since she was learning soccer.
But that was it.
Well, maybe the elderly couple who passed as they did their daily pre-Wheel of Fortune walk. They could tell because of how she laughed just a little too hard at his jokes.
But not another person knew.
Well, except for the guy who was a little too old to be enjoying playing with his remote control car about two baseball fields away. He knew because he could see her smile from there.
Nobody else though.
Except the two strangers who ran every evening at the same time in opposite directions, nodding each time they passed one another on the circular path, each hoping the other would break the runner’s code and stop the other to have a chat. They knew because of how she would twist her arms awkwardly with her hands clenched during each break for the coach’s instructions.
Seriously though, no one else knew.
Except that dad who was taking his daughter for a walk in a stroller. He could tell because of the way she couldn’t stay on both feet, and was kind of hopping back and forth.
Maybe one or two more people knew.
Like the dog walker who had a little chihuahua and a larger spaniel. She knew, because she remembered those days and could just tell.
And the person driving by, who saw she stood just a little closer than was usually comfortable in that situation.
And how do I know? Because I was one of those people. It doesn’t matter which. But we all knew.
Even the coach knew. He was older, wiser, and used to this. But he loved his wife more than he loved teaching kids soccer, the most popular sport in his home town across the sea.
As far as she knew, nobody knew she had a crush on her soccer coach. Not a soul.