Game On

by Kyra Lennon

  “Do you think we should help them up?” I asked, unable to supress a chuckle at how ridiculous they looked.

  “In a minute.” Miguel took my hand, and laced his fingers through mine. “Tonight’s been cool. Maybe we can go out again sometime?”

  I nodded. “I’d love to.”

  “I’ll give you a call later, after we’ve had some sleep. We can grab a drink or something.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Miguel gave me a shy grin. “I’d really like to kiss you goodnight.”

  Funny how he’d gone from a confident party animal to an unassuming gentleman once we were alone. In the club, surrounded by people there hadn’t been a hint of nervousness. Just the two of us in the cool night air, it was different.

  Taking a small step closer to him, I said, “Well, it’s only fair. You did find my glass slipper, after all.”

  His smile widened and he leaned in towards me. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, I pulled away slightly, resting my forehead against his.

  “Wait,” I said. “Please tell me there isn’t a rule in our contracts that says we can’t date?”

  Miguel placed his finger under my chin and gently raised my head so he could look into my eyes. “There’s no rule. Staff and players can’t date, but there’s nothing to say staff can’t date each other.”

  A sigh of relief left my body. “Okay, good. I’d really hate it if we couldn’t do this.”

  I brushed my lips against his. They were so soft, so welcoming. His arms circled around my waist, gathering me into him to block out the late night chill. Heart pounding, I snuggled into his warmth.

  It had definitely been a night to remember.

  .

  Chapter 4: Jude Collinson Is A Very Good Looking Man

  I woke up at nine o’ clock on Saturday morning to the sound of Freya retching in the bathroom. My stomach churned but I forced my tired body out of bed and tapped on the door.

  “You okay?” I called.

  “Yeah,” Freya replied in a voice that said she was anything but.

  My legs gave way due to the speed at which I’d got up, and I sat back down on my bed, massaging my aching temples.

  The toilet flushed and Freya came out of the bathroom. Her long, blonde hair was unusually messy and tangled, and her skin as pale as a vampire before its next feed. She staggered over to her bed, moaning, “Never let me drink again. I had a great time, but -” she paused, “- we had a great time, right?”

  “We did.”

  “Good. I don’t remember much.” She let out a pathetic laugh as she lay back on the bed. “I can’t believe I got into this state.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to go wild now and again.”

  “Says Little Miss I’m not going out dressed like that!” Freya teased, her voice coming out as a mumble because she’d covered her face with her hands.

  As my mind unfogged a little, a soppy grin crept across my face. At least half an hour had passed before Miguel and I had gone to our rooms after stumbling out of the cab. After agreeing to arrange a date, we stood outside the hotel, kissing like a pair of hormonal teenagers until we got so cold we had no choice but to go inside. I couldn’t wait to be with him again but my gut growled with hunger, and what I wanted more than anything was to indulge in a traditional English fry-up.

  “I’m going to order something to eat,” I said, reaching for the phone. “I’d ask if you want something but I’m guessing not.”

  Freya shook her head, her face whitening further at the idea of food, so I called room service and ordered breakfast for one. I’d just closed my eyes against my pounding headache, when my mobile rang. I answered quickly so as not to disturb Freya’s hangover. “Hello?”

  “Good morning, Leah.”

  The sound of Miguel’s voice made me smile, not least because it proved that the night before hadn’t been a figment of my imagination. I’d been single for so long, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole thing had been a fantasy created by my male deprived mind.

  “Hi,” I said. “How are you?”

  “I’m good thanks. Did you sleep well?”

  “I did, but my head is thumping and I’m starving.”

  Miguel chuckled. “I didn’t want to call too early to be sure I didn’t wake you.”

  “Don’t worry, you didn’t. Freya puking woke me up.” I yelped as her pillow hit me with more force than she should have been capable of mustering. “And now she’s bullying me!”

  “You’re bullying me,” she mumbled. “I’m dying here!”

  “So, do you want to meet up before training?” Miguel asked while I giggled at Freya’s response. “Nothing heavy after last night. Maybe we could watch TV in my room or something?”

  For the average woman, his offer would definitely have fallen on the lame side. To me, a morning of television sounded like bliss. It would be much easier to talk in his room than in the hotel bar and more importantly, there wouldn’t be anyone staring, trying to decide if anything was happening between us. The gossip circuit worked non-stop at Westberg, and I was in no rush to be at the centre of everyone’s speculations, especially since I didn’t know how things with Miguel would be away from the adrenaline of the club.

  “Good plan,” I told him. “Give me an hour or so to get ready though.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

  Putting the phone down, I smiled to myself.

  “Got a date?” Freya croaked.

  “Not a date as such. But I’m going to see Miguel once I’ve eaten and fixed myself up a bit. I don’t look too rough do I?”

  Freya heaved herself over onto her side to face me. “Not at all. You’re a little pale, but once you’ve eaten you’ll be fine. I’m going to look like this forever!”

  “No you won’t. You need some more sleep. And you really should drink some water.”

  “I did. It made me sick.”

  “What a state to get into,” I said, suppressing a laugh at how pitiful she looked. “Will you be okay if I leave you here on your own?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. If I need anything, I’ll call Will. I should call him anyway to find out if he’s as hungover as I am.”

  “I think it’s a safe bet that he’s got his head down the loo.”

  After munching through my breakfast, I took a shower then changed into my work clothes. The black and royal blue Westberg Warriors tracksuit wasn’t the most flattering outfit in the world, but there wasn’t much point dressing in my every day clothes, only to change again in a couple of hours. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, checked on Freya once more, then made my way to Miguel’s room with nerves bubbling inside me.

  Tommy Salinger opened the door. It hadn’t occurred to me how inconvenient sharing a room can be until I saw the amused grin on his face.

  Fabulous. The news that I’m spending the morning in Miguel’s room will be spread through the team in no time.

  Tommy let me inside, where Miguel was lounging on his bed flicking through the television channels.

  “Hey,” he said. “How’s the headache?”

  “Better. I just needed something to eat and a cup of coffee. Actually, I could use several more cups before work.”

  “I think I can arrange that. Come and sit down.”

  My British upbringing told me I should perch daintily on the edge of the bed instead of launching myself at him for a kiss, which was what I really wanted to do. It didn’t help that Tommy was still watching us, smirking.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna head out.”

  “See you later,” Miguel answered, giving him a wave.

  “Have fun, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he added, winking before he stepped outside.

  “He’s clearly from the Radleigh McCoy school of subtlety,” I said dryly.

  McCoy hadn’t crossed my mind since I saw him dancing with Taylor at the club. In fact, I couldn’t recall seeing him again afterwards. He’d most likely hooked up with one
of the other scantily clad youngsters who were drooling over him and disappeared back to her place for another night of debauchery.

  Miguel smiled and patted the space on the bed beside him. “I don’t bite.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I said, kicking off my trainers and sliding across the bed to sit closer to him. I nestled under his arm as his lips sought out mine in a kiss that already seemed so familiar.

  “Now I know I didn’t imagine last night,” Miguel said, stroking my cheek.

  “I know what you mean. I felt sure I’d wake up at home in L.A and find none of this really happened. Which would have been disappointing.”

  “It sure would.”

  The two of us stayed curled up together until we absolutely had to get up for work. It didn’t matter that we didn’t speak much. Being wrapped in his arms, doing something as simple as watching television was heaven. I felt safe with him, and I hadn’t experienced that with a man in a long while.

  ****

  Training only lasted for two hours on match days. Just as well, because after our night out, nobody was functioning properly. We weren’t supposed to drink the night before a match but over half the team had spectacularly broken that rule. Freya and Will did a stellar job of hiding their hangovers, but the moment we were free to leave we all went straight back to the hotel to nap for a few hours before we had to be at the stadium again.

  The afternoon’s rest made all the difference to the Warriors, and when they showed up for work again, they were refreshed and raring to go. Half an hour after they arrived, the players were out on the pitch doing some gentle exercises and I was in my designated treatment room, waiting for Jude so I could strap up his knee before the game. He’d been complaining about pain earlier, possibly caused by him busting moves after several beers at the club, and worsened during training. Keeping the joint well protected for the match was critical but I intended to send him to the hospital for a check-up when we got home.

  I filled the waiting time by thinking about Miguel. God, I’d turned into a complete sap, and I hadn’t even known him for a full twenty-four hours. We intended to meet Freya and Will in the hotel bar for a quiet, alcohol-free drink after the match. The idea of playing things down while we worked out how much we liked each other had long gone. It vanished sometime between me arriving at his room that morning, and him kissing me.

  A sharp rap on the door startled me, but it wasn’t Collinson who appeared. Instead, Richard stepped into the room.

  “Leah, have you seen Radleigh?”

  Oh sure, he’s always with me because, you know, we get on like a house on fire.

  “No,” I answered. “Why?”

  “He hasn’t shown up yet.

  There was no mistaking the stress on Richard’s face, and this wasn’t the first occasion I’d seen him in a McCoy-induced tizzy because of his lateness.

  “Well, if I see him I’ll tell him to hurry up,” I said.

  “I need you to do more than that. I gotta get back on the field with the guys, so can you call him and tell him to get his ass in gear?”

  “Me? But … why? Why not Will or Freya, or … anyone?”

  “Everyone’s busy.”

  “I’m busy too,” I told him, jumping up from my seat and opening up my medical bag to rummage for bandages. “I have to deal with Jude’s knee and if I don’t-”

  “Leah,” Richard interrupted, smiling at my sudden eagerness to work on anything but talking to the man I loathed. “Please. I need McCoy here. Think of this as a way to practice being nice to him.”

  My boss was no fool. He knew I’d been keeping away from McCoy in order to avoid ripping his head off. Unfortunately, no matter how much I wished I didn’t have to talk to him, it would happen eventually. Richard was just forcing my hand.

  “Fine.” I sighed. “You’d better give me his number then.”

  I pulled my mobile from my pocket and typed in the digits Richard gave me. I didn’t bother programming them into my contacts. I had no intention of using the number again.

  “Thanks, Leah.”

  “Sure,” I answered as he sped out of the room.

  I took a long, slow breath as I stared at McCoy’s phone number, reminding myself to remain even-tempered no matter what he said.

  I pressed the call button before I could change my mind. He answered after the sixth ring.

  “Leah. What can I do for you?”

  With those words, he shattered the air of calm confidence I’d built up.

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “You’re part of the team. I make sure I have all the team phone numbers, in case of emergency.”

  I felt certain that was some kind of privacy violation but I didn’t want to waste time debating it. Give him the message, get back to work.

  “Richard asked me to call you because you’re supposed to be here by now.”

  “I’m running late.”

  “Are you on your way?”

  “Not yet. I’ve just taken a shower.”

  “You’re still at the hotel?” I asked, battling to keep an incredulous squeal out of my voice. There was running late, and there was taking the piss. He was most definitely taking the piss.

  “Yes I’m still at the hotel.”

  “Are you even ready for this evening?”

  “Why? What did you have in mind? My room, room service, wine?”

  “I meant are you ready for the game?” I corrected, with fake politeness of an Oscar winning standard.

  “I’m always ready for a game,” he said, his voice taking on a much huskier tone. “I just need someone to play with.”

  The desire in his voice robbed me of the last of my already fragile composure which, in turn, made me furious with myself.

  “I have to go,” I said, quickly. “But … be here as soon as you can. Bye!”

  I hung up, my face flushed and hot with rage. Damn you, McCoy. He always found the right way to unsettle me in any situation. In spite of my determination to show him I wouldn’t be pushed around, he always seemed to have the upper hand.

  And his voice, thick with innuendo. Ten years ago, hell, even five years ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about taking him up on his offer. Things had changed since then. I’d changed.

  McCoy eventually showed up at the stadium having missed an hour and fifteen minutes of training and was promptly ripped into by Richard. I ducked out of the office to the pleasant sound of my boss telling him that if he was ever late again without a good excuse, he would be issued an official warning.

  It was music to my ears.

  When the match began, I took my seat with the coaches. Miguel sat behind me, and although we couldn’t engage in any public displays of affection, he occasionally leaned forward to whisper something in my ear on the pretence of talking about the game.

  “Hey,” Freya said, nudging me in the ribs, “can you two knock it off? You’re making the rest of us feel sick.”

  I craned my neck to look round at Miguel and in perfect unison, we said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh come on now,” Freya laughed. “Speaking the same words so soon?”

  “We were discussing how well Collinson is doing in spite of his knee injury.”

  “Ohh. So Miguel wants to take Jude out to dinner next week to, what, celebrate his goal saving achievements?”

  “Jude Collinson is a very good-looking man,” Miguel said with mock seriousness. “He’d be lucky to have me.”

  “That’s true. Perhaps Leah and Bree could hook up too?”

  Freya wasn’t speaking loudly, but something about the suggestion of two women getting together alerted the senses of every man within a five foot radius. It was like they all had some kind of built-in lesbian radar. Heads turned in our direction and Jesse said, “On behalf of the team, I want to say we totally support this idea.”

  “Keep dreaming lads, I haven’t kissed a girl since Uni.”

  Jesse let out a small groan. “
Do you have photos?”

  “Kidding!” I laughed. “I’m strictly men only!”

  Our sordid conversation came to an abrupt halt as the crowd got louder, and chants for the Warriors filled the stadium. We all turned our attention to the pitch where Cody Rivera was speeding towards the opponent’s goal, expertly weaving his way through Phoenix’s poor defence. He paused for a moment, weighing up his options and as he was about to be tackled, he hammered the ball the width of the pitch where McCoy waited. As the ball came towards him, he leapt in the air to head it into the goal. It was as if he had springs on his feet as he soared. Instead of making contact with the ball, he was blocked by another player and their heads cracked together in mid-air. The ball was kicked away, but while Phoenix’s number twelve landed with barely a stumble, McCoy crashed to the ground.

  Everyone on the Warriors bench jumped to their feet, shouting, and the referee blew the whistle and ran over to McCoy. Time seemed to stand still as we waited for him to get up but he didn’t move. Richard and Will walked briskly on to the field to assess the damage to their star player, the medics quickly following.

  I’d never seen anything like that before. Sure, I’d seen sportspeople who had bones sticking out of their bodies at weird angles, but nothing ever affected me as much as witnessing McCoy getting knocked unconscious after bashing his head. I truly thought I was going to vomit, right there in front of everyone.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked, watching his lifeless form being carefully manoeuvred on to a stretcher.

  “I think so,” Freya said. “It’s probably just a concussion.”

  My eyes widened in surprise at the casual way she’d said concussion. People die from head traumas, and he’d been hit incredibly hard.

  The more time that ticked away without him moving, the more nauseous I became. It was probably only minutes before he was carried off the pitch and out through the tunnel but it seemed like hours.

  Shake it off! You’ve witnessed things far more horrific than this.

  Miguel wrapped a supportive arm around my waist, “Come on, Leah.”