by Kyra Lennon
Perhaps I hadn’t changed nearly as much as I thought I had. Deep down, I was still that small town girl who wanted a bit of fun.
Chapter 7: Dream On, Muscle Man
The second the plane touched down at LAX, I finally relaxed.
I was home.
After throwing Radleigh out of my hotel room, we barely spoke another word to each other. There weren’t many words left to say. Whenever he looked at me, I expected him to resume his usual spiel about how it would only be a matter of time before I gave into him again but he never did. Maybe the kiss was enough for him to have satisfactorily proved his point.
Out of politeness, I said a quick goodbye to Radleigh before speeding out of the airport. His father was collecting him, so I escaped in a cab before I was forced to meet any more of the McCoy family.
On the way home, I called Miguel to tell him I’d landed. He sounded so happy to hear my voice. I usually felt the same way, but everything I said was blackened by my stupidity. It would be even harder face to face, but I’d have to wait until the morning before jumping over that hurdle.
Freya wasn’t in when I arrived back at the apartment, so after dumping my bags in my room, I kicked off my shoes and threw myself on one of our comfy loungers on the balcony. The weather was glorious. It’s difficult to stay unhappy when the ocean is sparkling in the sun, and people are laughing as they soak up the rays. Even with so much on my mind, the beauty of my surroundings made me smile. I’d never been much into religion, but I thanked God every morning for everything I had.
While quietly cursing him for giving me Radleigh McCoy.
I had no idea how much time passed before Freya came home. I’d somehow located the off switch for my brain, and sat virtually comatose until she nudged me from my stupor.
“Hey beautiful, welcome home!”
Her words sounded bright but the sparkle in her tone didn’t quite reach her eyes. I sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“Wow, you’re good,” she said, giving into a laugh. “It’s usually only my mom who can read me so well. I’m okay though. How are you? How was Phoenix?”
“Freya, I called you yesterday, don’t change the subject.”
She paused for a moment then said, “You wanna order a pizza and drink wine? May as well make this into a girly evening if I’m gonna pour my heart out.”
The sadness in her eyes caused a physical pain in my chest and I leapt up to give her a hug. My own inner turmoil seemed insignificant while she clung to me with what felt like deep gratitude.
“We can do whatever you want,” I told her.
“Okay. You pour the wine and I’ll order the food.”
In less than an hour, we’d settled ourselves on the floor in the living room. A bottle of white wine rested on the coffee table next to our piping hot Hawaiian pizza.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” Freya said, ignoring the pizza and reaching straight for her glass of wine. “Whatever I say is going to sound insane.”
“Try me. What happened?”
Freya took a deep breath, letting her blonde hair fall in front of her face a little to hide her. “Will’s seeing someone. One of his ex-girlfriends, Heather, tracked him down a few months ago to let him know she was moving back to Westberg. I didn’t think anything of it at the time but she’s here now and they went out last night.”
“And?”
“They had fun. He hasn’t stopped talking about her all day, which is fine. I mean, really, it’s fine. I’m happy for him, but at the same time I feel so …” she trailed off, unable to find the words.
I didn’t need for her to finish the sentence. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut.
“Really?” I asked. “You have no idea?”
She sighed. “I have an idea.”
The rest of our friends had more than an ‘idea.’ In fact, there seemed to be an unspoken bet between everyone on the team about when they’d get together.
“Freya, why didn’t you tell him you liked him before?”
“I didn’t know.”
How was that possible? Denial I could understand, and even trying to play it down, but she must have had an inkling that she felt more for him than friendship. Especially since it was so obvious to the rest of the world.
Sensing my thoughts, Freya said, “You’ve never misjudged your feelings for someone?”
“No,” I told her, honestly. “I’ve lied to myself but deep down I always knew the truth.”
Just like with McCoy.
“That’s not what happened here.”
A sombre silence hung between us. “Things with Will and Heather might not be serious,” I said.
“Maybe. But whenever we’re on our own together, I’ll be forced to hear about her. I can’t exactly tell him to stop, can I?”
“You could tell him how you feel.”
“Would you do that? Would you put years of friendship at risk for something that may not be reciprocated?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not sure I’d want to live with the constant question of what may have happened if I’d been brave enough to admit the truth.”
Freya and I stayed up late, talking about what she should do next while drinking more wine than was entirely necessary. Witnessing Will’s blossoming relationship was going to be torture for her. She was adamant she couldn’t reveal the truth though. ‘If he had any feelings for me, he wouldn’t be dating her,’ she’d said. I understood her reasoning, but in reality, I believed Will and Freya had been misreading each other’s signals for so long, they couldn’t see what was so clear to everyone else.
With the potential drama between Freya and Will, and having to face Miguel after kissing McCoy, I had no enthusiasm for work on Wednesday morning.
Instead of heading straight to the pitch, I holed myself up in my office for a while. I figured I had ten minutes clear before anyone would look for me. Settling myself in my desk chair, I flicked through a magazine I’d bought but never got round to reading. An article entitled “Ways To Make Him Ache For You” caught my attention and I chuckled as I perused some of the suggestions. I always found it odd that people looked to magazines for sexual advice. I couldn’t ever imagine an occasion when I’d be in the middle of sex and suddenly think, ‘Hang on, now what was that tip I read about in Cosmo…?’
I hadn’t managed to read more than tip four of ten when someone spoke my name, startling me out of my self-help trance.
I hadn’t even heard the door open.
“Hello,” I said, quickly closing the magazine.
Richard grinned. “I didn’t see a thing.”
“I was only looking,” I said, sounding like a teenager who’d been caught watching porn, and Richard laughed.
“Your secret’s safe. I just wanted to come in and say thanks for staying with McCoy. He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”
“No. In fact, he was actually pleasant for the first day. It was when he started to get better that he went back to his usual smug self.”
“A sure indication he’s back to normal then. Even so, I’m taking him out of tonight’s match just in case he isn’t fully fit,” Richard said. “I don’t want to risk his health by putting him back into action so soon.”
I doubted Radleigh would thank him for the night off, even if it was for his own good. He’d been desperate to get back to work even while he was in pain, so having to sit the game out when he was so much better would piss him right off.
“It’s only for tonight though, right? He’ll be playing again by the weekend?”
“We’ll see. He can do some very light training today, and if he’s okay, we’ll step it up a little more tomorrow.”
“Knock knock.”
My heart jumped into my throat, then descended into the depths of my stomach, where it churned with guilt as I looked into Miguel’s beautiful brown eyes.
“Hi,” I said, as he stepped into my office.
Richard’s eyeballs swivelled back and forth between
us, then he smiled. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Won’t be long, boss,” Miguel told him. The second we were alone, he drew me into a hug. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
The words still felt phony as they left my lips but instead of dwelling on my stupidity, I kissed him softly, forcing my indiscretion with McCoy out of my head.
“I know we don’t have too long here,” Miguel said, “but I wondered if you wanted to go on that first date tomorrow night?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “I would love to.”
“Good. Because I already ordered the picnic food.”
“Oh, very confident!”
“I wasn’t confident. I was hopeful.”
“Well, I don’t plan to disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me,” he said, and my stomach lurched again. He was so trusting, so open. I wasn’t sure just how much of his adoration I deserved.
****
I had a packed schedule, but being busy made the hours whizz by. Just when I thought I was going to get through the day without dealing with McCoy, he barged into my office fifteen minutes before the clock signalled leaving time.
“What did you say to Richard?” he demanded, slamming the office door behind him so hard my pinboard fell off the wall and thudded on to my desk. His eyes burned with rage and I stepped back as if his glare had thrown me off balance.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “What about?”
“About me, Leah! He’s taken me out of the match!”
Oh, I should have known this would be my fault.
“You were there when the doctor gave me the all clear! Tell Richard and get me back in the game!”
“Take it easy. This decision was not mine, and you’ve had all day to talk to Richard. Yelling at me won’t change anything.”
“You could change his mind. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger!”
Not true. I got on well with Richard, but business was business and once he made a decision, it couldn’t be changed. McCoy knew it too, so throwing a hissy fit at me was a complete waste of breath, not to mention dangerous while he was recovering from a concussion.
“First of all,” I said, “if you want me to do something for you, ask nicely. Screaming at me isn’t going to make me rush to help you. Secondly, Richard is doing this for you. For your health, so quit acting like a spoilt brat and enjoy the time off.”
“What am I supposed to do tonight?”
“Why don’t you flip through your little black book and call one of your many, many lady friends?”
“Excuse me,” a third, softer voice said from the doorway.
McCoy and I had been so involved in our argument we didn’t notice Taylor watching us nervously.
“Hey Taylor,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for Jesse.”
“Try the restaurant. I think I saw him heading that way.”
She nodded her thanks, but her eyes lingered on Radleigh and she smiled in a way that suggested they had a secret. He smiled back in response, and not-so-subtly leered at her arse as she walked out.
“She’s barely past the age of consent,” I said. “Back off.”
He flicked his head round to look at me. “I can’t help it if she’s got a great ass.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
His lips curved into a smug grin, his frustration about the match forgotten. “Jealous?”
Was that a yes?
“I’m serious. There are plenty of available women who would happily service your penis, so leave Taylor alone.”
“Relax. I’m not sleeping with her.”
There was no reason for me to trust his word, but if I pushed the issue, I would be faced with more of his idiotic theories that I was asking because I wanted to service his penis.
“Are we done here?” I asked.
When his only answer was his famous, irritating smirk, I finished putting my things away, picked up my bag and walked out. I wished more than anything that I could erase the events of the last few days.
Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way.
****
Even with the cloud of McCoy hovering above me, I refused to let him ruin my date with Miguel. Not only was it our first date, it was my first date in longer than I cared to admit.
Okay. Five years.
Miguel picked me up from my apartment a little before sundown, and hand in hand, we walked the short distance to the beach.
Miguel had gone to a huge amount of effort to make our date perfect. He had a picnic basket made up especially for us after asking Freya about my favourite foods. Lucky for him, I’ll eat anything. He chose roasted beef tenderloin in red wine sauce, with red peppers and potatoes, Caesar salad, and brownies for dessert. It was a million miles from the ham sandwiches and ice creams I had at picnics when I was a kid.
After we’d eaten, we cleared up, and went for a walk along the sand. Evenings in Los Angeles were always cool, and Miguel wrapped his arm around me as we strolled. Some other couples were enjoying the moonlight, plus a few teenagers chatting, and the occasional person staring out at the waves.
“I wonder what he’s thinking about,” I said, as we passed a man in his forties, dressed in a business suit, and idly drawing patterns in the sand while he watched the water.
“Maybe he’s not thinking anything.”
“He’s definitely thinking. I used to do the same thing at home in England. When I needed to clear my head after work, I’d drive to the beach and sit for hours looking out at the sea.”
“What did you think about?”
“All sorts of things. Mostly how to escape from my little town.”
“Why?”
“Bad memories, I guess.”
Miguel didn’t press me, and I was glad because divulging the details of my colourful past on our first date probably wasn’t wise.
“So you don’t miss it?” he asked.
“Sometimes, but I couldn’t live there again. I miss my family though. My mum keeps hoping I’ll go back, but even if I lived in the U.K, I wouldn’t want to live in the town I grew up in. It’s too small. Everyone knows each other’s business.”
“How did you end up in America?”
I smiled. “A twist of fate.”
“Tell me more.”
“Well,” I began, “four years ago, I moved from London back to Zellor to be with my family after a bad break-up. One of my friends, and when I say ‘friend,’ I mean someone I’d known since birth but was never very close to, invited me on a trip to Boston. She had a friend there. The person she originally planned to go with backed out, so I was her last resort. I thought it might be fun. I’d meet some new people, get away from home and live a different life for a couple of weeks. As it turned out, my friend fell for her mate’s brother, which meant I spent most of the time there alone.”
“So, she invited you because she couldn’t think of anyone else then ditched you when you got there? Some friend.”
Laughing, I said, “It actually worked out for the best. I enjoyed looking around, making my way on my own. I fell completely in love with Boston, and the moment I got home, I wanted to go back. So, I set about finding out how to move to America and … here I am!”
“I know this is totally selfish, but I’m glad you’re not homesick. I would hate it if you went away.”
I smiled up at him. “Thanks for tonight. It’s been good to be together away from work.”
We stopped walking, and Miguel pulled me in to him. “Does this mean we can go out again?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what it means.”
He lowered his head to kiss me, and I closed my eyes, waiting for his lips to brush against mine. His arms protected me from the sea breeze, wrapping me in warmth, and the sound of the waves rang in my ears.
“Miguel, do you have to go home tonight?”
He shook his head, “I don’t have to.”
�
��Do you want to stay with me?”
His eyes stared into mine and he placed a hand on my cheek, “I would love to stay, angel. But that’s not why I planned this date. I just wanted the evening to be perfect for you.”
Angel.
I loved that. Every word he spoke calmed me, made me feel cared for and safe. I wasn’t used to it. I didn’t want it to stop.
“I know,” I told him. “It was so perfect, I don’t want you to go.”
Smiling, he kissed me again. “Then I’ll stay.”
****
There’s something wonderful about waking up in the arms of a man, and knowing there is nowhere else either of you would rather be. Sex on the first date wasn’t something I’d planned, but the evening had been so perfect, so romantic. I didn’t want to let Miguel go. Ever.
Freya barely concealed her amusement when she saw us emerge from my room, but she restrained herself from making a comment. It was only when she got me alone in the kitchen that she quietly squealed her delight, and we jumped up and down, gigantic grins on our faces. Her happiness for me made everything feel even better, and I was practically skipping with joy when we left for work.
Miguel and I held hands as we entered the training ground. We may as well have been holding a neon sign saying, ‘We had sex,’ because everyone stared at us in a way that told us they knew. Nobody said a word though.
Well, almost nobody.
Radleigh cornered me on my way out of the hydrotherapy pool, of all places. Too bad I’d left my towel in the dressing room so I couldn’t cover up. He was sweaty and still dressed in his training gear, but the sight of him still knocked the breath out of me for a second. His eyes unashamedly travelled the length of my body.
“Will you please stop looking at me like that?” I snapped. The water dripping from my hair was not cold enough to cool my burning cheeks.
“Like what?”
Like you’re going to throw me on the floor and ravage me!
“You know what I mean.”
There was nothing I could do to stop him, short of running away. That would have been a tempting option if I hadn’t been so determined to prove he didn’t have an effect on me.
“I saw you with Vega this morning,” he said.
