Out of nowhere, my mum’s reminder comes back to me and I know this was exactly what she was afraid of. But I still can’t imagine regretting it. How could I?
Chapter Twenty-One
Twelve Years Ago
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Rina asks for the five hundredth time. That’s an exaggeration because she’s waiting for me to finish closing at Bailey’s while I wipe stubborn fingerprints from the glass cases and she hasn’t been here long enough to ask me the same question five hundred times.
It only feels that way.
“Yes.” My tone is snappy. “I don’t know why you’re making it into such a big deal.”
“Because.” Rina lowers her voice to a hiss, her long black hair falling like a sheet over her eyes as she leans in. “You’re talking about losing your virginity. That’s not something you can take back.”
“I’m actually talking about buying condoms.” Saying I need to stop by Boots on the way out for condoms is what started this whole conversation. “You’re the one talking about everything else.”
“If this is what you really want, I’m happy for you. But I’m worried you’re making a huge mistake.” Rina twists the silver ring on her forefinger, her tell-tale distress signal.
“I want them just in case. I’m sure Max has some, but a bigger mistake would be being unprepared.” I rub a fingerprint from the glass like it’s the thing agitating me.
In truth, it’s this whole conversation. I don’t know what I was thinking bringing this up to Rina that way. I thought maybe she’d go wide-eyed and ask for details, not that she’d try to make me second guess myself. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s Max. And if he and I are getting closer and closer to having sex – which we are – I refuse to be stupid about it.
“Are you afraid it will hurt?” Rina’s voice is low. “I heard it hurts.”
“I think it might hurt the first time?” I shrug. “But probably not worse than that time I almost chopped off my finger in Year Four.”
“God, I hope not. That was awful.” Rina grimaces, although she wasn’t there when I did it. She only heard about me mistaking my pinkie for part of the chicken breast after it was all stitched back up. Her voice goes down another notch as she asks, “Does it bother you that you’re not his first?”
“Not really.” I’ve thought about this a lot and made myself refrain from asking the questions that would give me too much information I can’t unknow. “I mean, I don’t want to know how many people he’s been with, but he’s learned a thing or two along the way, which isn’t a bad thing.”
For the first time since we’ve been having this conversation, Rina smiles. It’s a close-mouthed smile, but it’s progress.
“Do you think it will be the night of Shake a Leg?” Rina asks.
“Maybe?” I almost hope it’s not because that’s such a cliché, but it feels like the best possibility because I have a free pass to go to the after parties. “Speaking of Shake a Leg, has Will Freeman asked you yet?”
“No.” Rina rolls her eyes. “I think that’s wishful thinking on your part.”
“I don’t know. I heard him saying he aced his last chemistry paper and he had you to thank for it.” I grin. “Chemistry happens in more ways than one, you know.”
“You seriously make the worst jokes.” This time when Rina smiles it’s a real one and it feels like a victory. “Are you almost done here? I want to get to Boots before it closes and I know you do, too.”
“Yep.” I give the glass one more wipe and straighten up. “Let me get my stuff and we can go.”
Ten minutes later, Rina and I are in Boots poring over the Rimmel display. As a brand, Rimmel is pretty basic, but it’s perfect for girls on a budget, which Rina and I are.
“Do you have an opinion on blue eyeshadow?” Rina asks after we’ve both chosen a mascara.
“I think it can look cool on other people, but on our skin tone? No.” I point to a dark purple. “That would look good, though.”
Rina debates between two different shades of purple for a couple minutes before picking up the one I pointed to. Then she says, “I guess we need to get what you came for, too?”
“If you don’t want to come, I’ll go get them by myself.” I trip over the words, I say them so fast.
“No.” Rina gives a firm nod. “I may not be sure you’re doing the right thing, but I’m going to support you in it.”
My heart melts. This is why Rina and I have been friends since we were little. I tug her by the sleeve and we head to the reproductive health aisle.
The pregnancy tests are first and I wonder if that’s intentional. I half expect Rina to point them out, but she refrains, thank God. We make our way down the aisle until we get to the condoms and, crap, I didn’t expect there to be so many choices. I stare at the boxes, then look helplessly at Rina.
Who looks as bewildered as me.
We’re like dumb and dumber, but instead of a suitcase full of money, we’re wide-eyed in the condom aisle.
“Do you, um, know what to get?” Rina asks.
“Not really. Do you see anything that says normal?” I peer at the boxes, but that’s no help. With lube, ribbed, extra-large…it’s a foreign language.
“That one says ‘for her pleasure,’” says Rina, pointing to a purple box. “That’s got to be okay, right?”
“I guess?” I reach out for the box, but I don’t pick it up straight away. Suddenly this feels like a big step. Or something I should leave up to Max, though that’s stupid. If I’m going to have sex, I’m not going to be a passive participant. In any way.
I close my fingers around the box and give Rina a nod as we head to the till. She grabs my arm and stops me before we get to the queue, saying, “You know you can always change your mind, right? I mean, just because you have these, it doesn’t mean you have to use them.”
“I know.” I do know that. Max would never pressure me, and I could change my mind up until the minute we’re actually doing it and that would be okay. But I also know I’m not going to. I want this. I want him. I want everything that comes with it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“So, he didn’t try to kiss you at all?” Scarlett asks for the third time as we stream down Fulham Road with the crowds en route to Chelsea stadium.
“No, but why is that the thing you’re fixated on? Seriously? Can we focus instead on the fact that he invited me to his game tonight with a friend? Like, am I reading the whole situation wrong? Does he think I’m bringing a date?” I wrinkle my nose because I don’t know what to think and that’s not working for me right now.
“Hence my question about him not kissing you.” Scarlett rolls her eyes. “Did he at least try?”
“Nope. We had a good time, but it was pretty platonic.” I mean, sure, Max put his arm around my shoulder, but he always did that, even when we were friends in high school.
“Then he invited you tonight and said what?”
“He said, ‘Hey, you should come to my game tomorrow night if you’re free. I can get you a couple of seats if you want so you can bring a friend?’” I’ve recited word for word what Max said because I’ve turned it over in my head at least one hundred times since he said them.
“It’s no fun going to a football match alone. Maybe he was being polite rather than dismissive?” Scarlett gives me a hopeful look. “Either way, we’re here now and we’ve got free tickets to a great game. Bradley was green with envy.”
“Should I have brought him instead?”
“Probably.” Scarlett laughs. “But you need a wingwoman and, frankly, Bradley is terrible at that.”
“You do realize Max is going to be on the field?” I raise an eyebrow at her. “It’s not like we’re going to see him up close and personal.”
“I didn’t drag my ass all the way over to Chelsea to not get up close and personal. Fans wait by the buses for the team to come out of the locker room.”
“How do you know this? You�
��re not a football fan.” Scarlett couldn’t be less interested in sports if she tried. Honestly, I’m surprised she agreed to come with me at all. I don’t dare tell her that I asked Gemma first, but she has plans with Oliver. Apparently, they’re going to check out a new wine bar in Gemma’s neighborhood, then going to the cinema. I’m not saying that sounds like a date, but I’m not not saying that either.
“I asked Bradley.” She shoots a grin at me. “Speaking of, he said the design you’re working on is ace.”
“Really?” My face flushes with pleasure. “I don’t have my review meeting with him until next week, but I’m glad he likes it.”
“He said you bring a flair to the project that’s unexpected and fresh.” Scarlett gives me a wink. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Hear what from you?” I shrug, but I’m jumping up and down inside. Not that I have to play it cool with Scarlett, but this pub renovation has been kicking my ass and hearing that my ideas have the boss’s seal of approval means a lot. “Apparently I might have to go over there sometime. Fancy a trip to Yorkshire?”
“Um, no.” Scarlett makes a face. “But there might be a certain football player you could ask to meet you for a cheeky weekend away?”
I can’t imagine asking Max to join me on a work trip. Or to join me after a work trip. But I find myself picturing it off and on through the first half of the game. It feels like the more I focus on Max on the pitch – oh my God, those thighs – the more I think about what spending more time with him off the pitch could be like. It’s not until he goes off the pitch at halftime and Scarlett nudges me in the ribs that I realize how much I’ve been in my own little world.
“I’m sorry. Have I been ignoring you?” I ask with a small wince.
“It’s okay. I’ve been entertained.” Scarlett pauses. “Mostly by the mental gymnastics you’re doing trying to reconcile the guy on the pitch with the guy in your head from high school. It’s impressive.”
“Max was always a good football player.” I hate that Scarlett knows me so well. “It’s strange to see him play again.”
“I can’t believe you never YouTube’d him. I mean, it took me a hot minute to YouTube him after the auction.”
“I YouTube’d him after the auction, too.” I shrug like I haven’t spent way too much time going down the Max Foster online rabbit hole. It is surprisingly deep.
“I would hope so.” Scarlett licks her lips and we both laugh. “But what about the past twelve years?”
“He had a billboard on the bus stop by the office, so it wasn’t like I thought he fell off the face of the Earth.” Anything more, I didn’t want to know.
“Well, you have more willpower than I would. I YouTube’d Bradley’s presentation to the New York Chamber of Commerce from before we officially got together.” Scarlett side eyes me as I laugh. “What? He’s an excellent speaker and it’s hot.”
“I’m not sure I need to know that about you, honestly.” I grin. “If you tell me you use that as foreplay, I might have to quit my job.”
“There’s no need, my dear. Did I ever tell you about his yellow tie?” Scarlett pauses.
Long enough for me to cover my ears and say, “No. Do not go there. I love you two together, but I have my limits.”
“Um, are you forgetting about the time I walked in on you and Tom?” Scarlett raises an eyebrow.
“I wish you would forget.” I feel my cheeks redden because, although Scarlett walked in on Tom and me almost a year ago, it’s still mortifying. Let’s just say it was a super hot moment right up until the point where it wasn’t.
“No judgement, but do you think Max is into oral? Because Tom sure was.” Scarlett leans over and her voice is low in my ear.
But at least she has the courtesy to move away as she barks out a laugh.
My face turns redder and I laugh as I punch her in the leg. “You’re awful and you know it.”
“Hey, it’s relevant. You know you want to know.”
“Well, judging by last night, I’ll never find out.” I shrug. “We’ll see.”
“I’m here to do my part to move it along. In this case that will mean stalking the team bus after the game, for starters.” Scarlett nods. “Also, Norcastle is on the way to Yorkshire, you know. If you’re not ready to invite him away on a naughty weekend, you can always stop by en route.”
“I’m pretty sure Norcastle is the opposite direction from Yorkshire?” I wrinkle my brow.
“Well, not if you don’t want it to be. You know those dodgy train connections can take you all over the country.” Scarlett looks at me and nods slowly. “Right?”
“Right.” I bite my lip to keep from grinning. “Remember that time I was supposed to meet Tom in Bath Spa and ended up in Cheltenham Spa?”
“Well, that was user error, but same principal.” Scarlett grins, too. “God, Tom was all like, ’Really? You’re from this country. How does this happen?’”
I giggle. “And I lied and said the train had been diverted so he didn’t think I was a total loon.”
I shake my head and laugh again, although I don’t get to say anything else as the teams come back onto the field for the second half and cheers erupt around me. I get to my feet with everyone else, still smiling as I seek out Max on the pitch. As I watch him take his position, I realize that this is the first time I’ve talked about Tom without feeling those pangs of guilt and heartbreak.
Which is no small thing.
Even if whatever this is with Max ends here, the idea of it has helped more than I ever thought it would.
Chapter Twenty-Three
If Scarlett wasn’t more or less holding me hostage by maintaining a death grip on the handle of my bag, I’d be hightailing it out of here faster than you could say winning team. If I’m being generous, waiting outside the stadium by the Norcastle team bus with a hoard of fans feels bizarre. If I’m being honest, it feels presumptuous. I haven’t heard from Max all day and being here feels like I’ve made an assumption about our relationship that’s not warranted. Never mind reciprocated.
“I think we should go. Come back to mine for Chardonnay therapy. You can whinge about your boss,” I say to Scarlett hopefully. Scarlett has a love-hate relationship with James Kincaid, especially because he still calls her a “greenie” sometimes, like she’s an inexperienced newbie. I think he does it to wind her up and it works.
“I don’t have anything to whinge about.” Scarlett smiles. “He’s given me a client in Sardinia who wants an in-person meeting to discuss additions to his art collection. Speaking of naughty weekends.”
“Sardinia sounds a hell of a lot better than Yorkshire. When Bradley’s there with you, tell him to scope out a project for me. I’d go to Sardinia in a heartbeat.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Scarlett’s head turns in sync with mine as the door where the players will emerge swings open. We’re behind a barrier, but Scarlett insisted we get ourselves as close to the front of the crowd as possible, so we’re right at the edge of the metal fencing.
My heartbeat ratchets up and I cross my arms over my chest. What am I doing here? I feel like I’m back in high school again when I used to wait for Max after his games. Back then, it was all the beautiful cliquey girls on one side and me on the other. They were never overtly mean to me, but I never quite felt like I belonged there either. And even though my self-esteem is better these days, I feel like a fraud.
I’m lying to Max.
If lies of omission count.
“There he is,” Scarlett whispers as she tugs on my bag.
Shit. My stomach roils and I wish I didn’t eat that popcorn in the stadium. I glance down at my shoes – a new-ish pair of silver ballet flats – take a deep breath, and make myself look up.
Max’s gym bag is slung over his shoulder, his hair is damp, and he’s wearing a black tracksuit. He looks sleek and fit, and he has that energized walk I remember from after a match – especially a match when his team won – like he’s wal
king on air or sunshine. Or both. He looks amazing and before I can think too much about it, I raise my hand in a small wave.
He glances over and then away, and my hand drops like a dead fish to my side. I glance at the player behind him and when my gaze goes back to the spot where Max should be, he’s gone.
Oof. Talk about a punch to the gut.
I ignore the hollow feeling in my stomach and say to Scarlett, “Should we go then?”
“Um, no?” Scarlett scowls at me.
Before I have a chance to ask why, I hear a few squeals from people nearby. An arm wraps around my shoulder and that familiar soap scent brings me back to high school in an instant. I turn my face towards Max and look up. “Hey. Congratulations. Great match.”
“Thanks. Thanks for coming.” His easy smile is wide as he nods at Scarlett. “And thank you, as well. I didn’t think you were a football fan?”
“I’m not, but I’m a Tara fan so here I am.” Scarlett shrugs.
“I’m a Tara fan myself.” Max squeezes my shoulder a little and I feel my face flush.
“Hey, Max, great match,” someone calls from behind me. “Way to take that penalty shot.”
“Marry me, Max,” someone else yells in a high-pitched voice.
“Can I have your autograph?” someone else shouts.
“Can I have your babies?” shouts another.
The crowd laughs and I force a chuckle, too, although this has gotten weird fast. Max’s arm is still around my shoulders and I feel more than a few eyes on me, although I don’t look around. Confirming that people are staring at us won’t make them not stare, but it will make me anxious.
“I need to get out of here before this gets out of hand, but are you free on Sunday?” Max asks, his voice low. I nod and he says, “Great. I’ll pick you up at eleven.”
“Here? In London?” I keep my voice low, too, but it’s an effort because I’m confused. Max lives in Norcastle but he’s coming back here? For me?
A Brit Player (Castle Calder Book 4) Page 9
