Extra Time

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by Michelle Betham


  ‘Yeah. He is,’ Amber said. ‘Guess he got that talent from you.’

  Jim smiled again, and it made her heart bounce around inside her chest so much she felt breathless. How could she feel so distant from a man who was once her entire world? ‘Yeah. Maybe. Anyway, I’d better go talk to the team. Make sure my defence are on their A-game if they want to stop my son from taking those three points away from us.’

  Amber watched him walk away, off in the direction of the dressing rooms. That meeting had been almost surreal in her eyes. After weeks of never being this close to him – seeing him only on a TV screen – she now felt as though all the breath had been knocked out of her.

  ‘You all right?’

  She swung round to see Ronnie standing there. The expression on his face told her he’d seen most of that encounter, and in a way she was glad. At least it would mean she wouldn’t have to explain what had just happened.

  ‘I’m fine. It was going to happen at some point today, wasn’t it? Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Was everything…? Was he okay? With you, I mean?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he be? We don’t hate each other, Ronnie. It isn’t like that. Things just… things just didn’t work out, that’s all. Come on. Let’s go. We’ve got work to do.’ Whether she felt like it or not.

  The sun beat down on the terrace of Ryan’s new Spanish home, a cool sea breeze taking the edge off the heat, which was extremely welcome given that, even in January, the temperature was still almost 30 degrees in the shade.

  He hadn’t expected to settle into his temporary life on this Spanish island quite as fast as he had done, but everyone was going out of their way to make him feel welcome. In a team made up of British, German, Spanish, and even Australian players, he thanked God the main language was English, and all the guys in the CD Adeje squad were friendlier than he could have hoped for. Maybe it was the fact they all lived here, on this beautiful island with its abundance of sunshine and constant flow of women on tap, that made everyone so happy all the time, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was enjoying it. There were even times when he actually did believe that asking for this loan period had been the right thing to do, because his head was beginning to feel clearer than it had done in a long time. And, despite the fact he was just a stone’s throw away from the main tourist resorts and all the temptations they could bring, he was behaving himself as far as the partying was concerned. He couldn’t claim to be a saint, or even anything close to that, but he knew his limitations. He knew when to stop, go home, and save some for another night.

  ‘You coming back inside, Ryan?’

  Having said that, when he did come home, he didn’t always make that journey alone. But, hey, if the perks were there, he was going to take them. He was Ryan Fisher. And he still had a reputation to uphold, even if, at times, it was somewhat watered down.

  He turned around and smiled at the young woman standing by the open patio doors that led out onto the terrace from the living room. All messed-up blonde hair and a pretty face, she was on holiday from Liverpool with three of her friends, but even he’d resisted the temptation to bring them all home. That would have just been stupid.

  ‘Give me five minutes, babe. Just getting my breath back.’

  She giggled, shaking her hair out, and for a second he felt a twisting in his stomach as he was reminded of Amber, and the way she’d used to do that. He waited until the patio doors were closed behind her before he let out a deep breath. He could do this. He had to. He didn’t really have much choice.

  Checking his watch, he smiled to himself as he saw the time. It was almost kick-off back home in Newcastle – the big match between the two rival local teams. And a little part of him wished he was there, getting caught up in the unique atmosphere those derby games created. The competitive spirit seemed to take hold stronger than any other match, as pride, as well as points, came into play. And with Brandon Palmer now a key player in the Wearside Spartans squad, this wasn’t going to be an easy match for Newcastle Red Star. Especially as their star striker was now languishing abroad, playing an altogether different kind of game.

  Walking back inside, he was grateful for the cool of the air conditioning as he quickly found the remote control and flicked through the on-screen TV guide until he came to the Cloud Sports News channel. No way was he living without his sports channels, even in a foreign country. He needed to keep up to date with what was going on back home. He needed to still be able to see Amber.

  His stomach fell as he realised she wasn’t in the studio that afternoon, which could only mean one thing – she was actually at the match itself. She was at Tynebridge. With Ronnie. With Jim. With everyone who was close to her. He lowered the sound down on the TV and threw the remote onto the glass-topped coffee table, pushing a hand through his hair as he walked over to the open-plan kitchen at the other end of the room. Maybe he should have resisted that urge to have the satellite dish fitted. Maybe he should have tried to live without that link to her. But it was never really going to go away, was it? This burning confusion that had wrapped itself around his heart and seemed in no hurry to loosen its grip.

  Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he turned round suddenly as he heard his guest walk into the room. She was naked, having now disposed of the sheet she’d had wrapped around her before. Jesus, not even a stirring! What was wrong with him? He had a young, naked woman right there in front of him and all he wanted to do was lie on the sofa and watch the football results come rolling in.

  ‘Ryan. I’m waiting, come on. I thought we were spending the day together.’

  He took a drink, looking her up and down, trying desperately to feel something that would make him want to take her back to bed and fuck away the frustration. But nothing was happening.

  ‘Something’s come up, sweetheart.’ And it wasn’t what she wanted.

  ‘Huh?’ She looked at him with an expression of utter confusion. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means, I need you to get dressed and get out of here.’

  She pouted at him, fluttering her false eyelashes as though that would change everything. ‘Right now?’

  ‘Right now.’ She was hot, there was no denying it, and he’d enjoyed last night. What he could remember of it. But he hadn’t promised her anything more than the chance to fuck a famous footballer, and a bed for the night. Nothing else. And he was absolutely sure he hadn’t promised her they’d be spending the day together. He had training later that afternoon, and tomorrow’s match to prepare for – there’d been nothing else on the agenda as far as he’d been concerned.

  She walked over to him, twirling her hair around her finger, still pouting, still fluttering, and still it had no effect on Ryan. It was almost as if he’d just thrown up barriers that were deflecting any kind of advances, even those from stunning, naked blondes. ‘Are you sure you can’t spare just five little minutes?’

  He reached out and ran his fingers over her breasts – fake, of course. Unlike Amber’s – they were perfect and rounded and felt incredible when he touched them… Shit! He really had to get rid of this one.

  ‘Come on, babe. That’s enough, okay?’ He gently pushed her away. ‘I’m really busy this afternoon and… I just need you to leave, all right? It was fun, you’re a beautiful girl, but I’ve got things to do.’

  She threw him a look that said she was far from happy before making her way back to the bedroom with a toss of her hair and a wiggle that, under normal circumstances, would have made him follow her. But now he felt nothing but relief that she was finally on her way out of there.

  She reappeared just minutes later, dressed and ready to leave. But she wasn’t going without a fight. ‘Will I see you again?’ she asked, moving in for one last kiss, but Ryan was too quick for her, turning his head so she caught his cheek.

  ‘If you come to the game tomorrow, yeah. You’ll see me there, won’t you?’

  ‘That’s not what I mean
t!’ she huffed, reaching out to stroke his shoulder, running her fingers lightly down his arm. Once upon a time this would have worked like a dream. Having a woman like this want him so badly, practically offering herself to him on a fucking plate; back in the day he would’ve been ready for action before you could say penalty. But now – now there was nothing. He just wanted her gone.

  ‘I know what you meant.’ He smiled, trying to ease the atmosphere. It wasn’t her fault he was feeling like this. But she’d got what she’d wanted – and those were the rules in this game. No promises, no ties, just sex. ‘Look, I might see you around, it depends. When do you fly home?’

  ‘Next Tuesday. Do you want my number?’

  ‘Like I said, babe, I might see you around. Okay?’

  She gave him one more look from beneath those long lashes of hers, but even she was beginning to realise it wasn’t getting her anywhere. ‘I’ll see you later, Ryan.’

  ‘Yeah. Later.’

  He watched her walk out into the hall, waiting until he heard the front door bang shut before he opened one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a copy of Ice Magazine. The one with Amber on the cover wearing nothing but a smile and a strategically placed Newcastle Red Star scarf. A real-life naked woman right there in the room with him hadn’t managed to stir anything, yet one quick look at Amber staring at him from the cover of a magazine and he was already standing to attention, his super-fast hard-on straining to be set free.

  Taking the magazine into the bedroom, he got naked and sat down on the bed, flicking through the pages until he got to Amber’s photos. There she was, lying across the benches in the Red Star home team dressing room, naked and beautiful, with her back arched and that incredible body of hers almost totally on show, but he didn’t mind that those breasts were covered by her arm or that her legs were positioned so that only a hint of what lay between them could be seen. He knew what she looked like, knew what she felt like. And was it a sign – hadn’t anyone noticed that she was lying right underneath his space in the dressing room? His number 9 strip was hanging right there, above her. Was that a sign? Or was he just reading way too much into what was nothing but a coincidence?

  Moving his hand down to touch himself, he flicked the page over to another set of photos – she was wearing a pair of Newcastle Red Star shorts, pulled right down as low as they could go without letting the world see that part of her he loved living in. She’d left little to the imagination as far as those photos were concerned, and his imagination was certainly running wild right now as his hand started to move faster, up and down, taking him to where he wanted to be, that place in his head he’d never really left behind. And he wasn’t sure he ever could.

  Despite the best efforts of a full-strength Wearside Spartans, they couldn’t quite get past Newcastle Red Star, even without Ryan Fisher. The final score was a 2-2 draw, so this time the points were shared in a game that had, as was usual with these derby matches, been littered with rougher tackles, harsher challenges, and more than the usual amount of bookings, on both sides. But, on the whole, it had been a friendly meeting. Even the fans had been on their best behaviour, although it hadn’t escaped Amber’s notice that some of them were still quite happy to voice their obvious annoyance at the fact Ryan Fisher wasn’t there. To some extent he had been missed, and even Amber had to admit there’d been times when his presence could have quite easily grabbed Red Star the full three points. But his temporary replacement – a seasoned French player the club had managed to secure on a rolling monthly contract from one of the big Italian clubs – had more than proved himself, netting both of Red Star’s goals, which had gone some way to placating the fans.

  ‘You did good today,’ Ronnie said, leaning back against the bench at the back of the Press Lounge, watching as Amber packed away her things.

  ‘I’m not five, Ronnie. I can handle being here, you know. It’s my job. And, if nothing else, I’m a professional.’

  Ronnie shoved his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet for a second. ‘You’ve got that defensive tone turned up full today, haven’t you?’

  ‘That’s because I feel guilty.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About Ryan not being here. I’m not stupid, and I know more than a few of those fans out there blame me for his temporary departure. I’ve heard some of the things they’ve been saying.’

  ‘Take no notice.’

  ‘That’s easier said than done.’

  ‘Look, it isn’t your fault he can’t control his feelings, Amber.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘I know that. But it still feels like I’m partly to blame, somehow.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have slept with him for starters.’

  ‘What? Ever? Or recently?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  Ronnie looked down at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘You could have offered to stay down in London. Instead of being here, I mean. You know they love it when you do the studio stuff.’ He looked up at her, smiling slightly. ‘It gets them way more viewers than usual. Especially since you did the Ice Magazine shoot.’

  ‘You’re such a sexist pig,’ she said, unable to stop herself from smiling back as she zipped up her laptop bag.

  ‘Anyway, it’s over now, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she sighed, lying her bag down on the floor and leaning back against the bench beside Ronnie. ‘Yeah. It’s over.’ She looked at her best friend, squeezing his arm and standing up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. ‘And thanks for doing the post-match interview with Jim. I wasn’t sure I could hack it today.’

  ‘I thought you said you were a professional.’ But he’d said that with a smile, pulling her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head. ‘I’d better get going. I said I’d meet a few of the guys from Tyne Star Radio over in the pub across the road. You coming?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Don’t really feel like it. I said I’d meet Dad back at his place after the game, then I might go see Debbie this evening.’

  ‘Okay, well, I’ll call you later. You gonna be all right?’

  ‘Ronnie! Like I said before, I’m not five.’ She smiled, pushing him gently in the direction of the door. ‘Go on. Get out of here.’

  She turned to gather the rest of her things together, but the sound of someone coming into the room distracted her.

  ‘What did you forget?’ She turned around, expecting to see Ronnie standing there. But instead she saw Ellen. Ryan’s ex. ‘Can I do something for you?’ Amber asked, folding her arms against her in a slightly defensive manner. Although, she was only mirroring the stance of the woman in front of her.

  ‘You could leave Ryan alone,’ Ellen replied, her voice almost a whisper but still carrying a hard-edged tone to it.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Amber laughed, totally confused by this sudden encounter.

  ‘Leave him alone. We were happy. We’d moved in together, we were actually a couple, and then, all of a sudden, he decides he wants to leave all that behind and move to Spain because, apparently, he can’t forget you.’

  ‘And that’s my fault?’

  ‘Of course it fucking is! If it wasn’t for you, he’d still be here, we’d still be together…’

  Amber couldn’t help another slightly sarcastic and cynical laugh from escaping. ‘You really think that? Listen, sweetheart, Ryan Fisher is a long way off settling down, believe me.’

  ‘He almost married you.’

  ‘The clue is in the word “almost”, Ellen. And that’s about as close as Ryan Fisher is going to get to settling down right now.’

  ‘You know that, do you?’

  ‘Yes, I know that.’ Amber was more than a touch agitated by this conversation, because it was one she really didn’t feel like having. ‘I know that better than anybody because I was there, I was right there when it all fell apart. I saw him broken and battered, unable to cope with situations he just isn’t ready for. Jesus, Ellen, he’s lik
e a big kid! If he sees something he wants, he thinks all it takes is one click of the fingers and it’s his, whether he’s fully prepared for it or not. He doesn’t think ahead, doesn’t consider what the future might bring…’

  ‘You think you know it all, don’t you?’ Ellen sneered, moving a step closer, whilst Amber stood her ground, staying put. She was going nowhere.

  ‘I don’t even know why I’m having this conversation.’

  ‘But you don’t, okay? You might think you’re this beautiful, popular TV presenter with the celebrity lifestyle and the perfect existence, but just because your husband doesn’t want you anymore, it doesn’t give you the right to go running back to Ryan.’

  This time Amber did move, her face up close to the pretty PR girl’s, her temper simmering but still under control. She could do without this, but she could also handle it. ‘Okay, sweetheart. I think you’ve said enough. One more word from you and I’ll consider it a line crossed that you can’t come back from. So I suggest you get out of here and forget this happened, all right?’

  ‘He’d still be with me, if it wasn’t for you.’ Ellen wasn’t giving up without a fight, and Amber couldn’t help but admire her tenacity, in a strange kind of way. It was wasted, though. On Ryan. ‘It should be you who’s moved away. Not him.’

  ‘You can do better than Ryan Fisher,’ Amber said, her voice quieter, because she meant it. Ellen could do better than Ryan. He’d only hurt her, in the end. More than he already had.

  ‘I love him.’

  ‘Oh Jesus, Ellen…’ Amber sighed, taking a couple of steps back, pushing a hand through her hair. ‘Don’t fall in love with him, please.’

  ‘Why? Because you want him for yourself? You talk about him clicking his fingers and getting what he wants, but isn’t that all you have to do with him? If you shout loud enough does he not come running?’

  ‘Leave it, Ellen. Just, leave it.’

  ‘Have you slept with him? Recently, I mean? Is that why he’s run away?’

 

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