by Amy Daws
Belle seems clueless about the cameraman as she screams something vile at the ref. I laugh heartily, feeling like I could just as easily be sitting next to Vi. Vi’s voice carries more than my dad’s at our Tower Park matches. It’s like my ears are hardwired to the tone of her voice.
After watching Belle’s enthusiasm for several minutes, I lean into her ear. “I need to make you a Bethnal fan before this is all said and done.”
She frowns at me like I’m speaking a different language. “I already am! I’ve been to several of your matches. My love for football is multi levelled.” She laughs and trains her eyes back on the pitch.
“So you’ve seen me play?” I ask, not ready to let this go.
“Of course! I live in Bethnal Green. How could I have not been to Tower Park?”
This shocks me. “So what did you think?” I ask, needing some level of approval from her before I can allow us to enjoy the match.
She keeps her eyes focused on the pitch but they narrow, seemingly deep in thought. After a few seconds, she leans over toward me to shout out the side of her mouth, “I think it’s a fucking travesty your brother left. You two danced out there on that pitch together. You were more than strikers. You were goal scorers working in tandem, and both two-footed to boot. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen. But if you suck it up and find your balls again, you can get that stride with DeWalt. He’s not as good as Camden, but he’s deceptively quick and practically surgical with his passing. You can use that. You’re the best goal scorer Bethnal has ever seen. You’re better than Camden, but I’ll chop your balls off if you ever tell him I said so.”
I’m speechless. Utterly speechless. I didn’t have a clue she was even remotely invested in football until now. She gave me no indication except for saying she was a United fan. But hearing her speak so fluently about not only the sport I love, but the team that is my pride and joy, makes me want to drop down on one knee and marry her on the spot.
I grab her arm until she turns to look at me. “You’re not at all what I expected, Belle Ryan.”
She shoots me a sneaky smirk. “The crazy ones are always the most surprising.”
She winks and I can’t help myself. I grab her face and plant my lips on her in an inappropriate for public kiss.
She pulls away laughing. “Good grief, Harris! Control yourself.”
“Never,” I yell and pull her under my arm, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and looking back down at the pitch. “Come on, Harrises! Get your pansy arses moving and stop prancing around like fucking ballerinas!”
Belle laughs and high fives me, and we get back to the task at hand.
The pre-match talk had Man U topping Arsenal three goals to one. They were spot-on. Camden scored a long, thunderous strike into the top-left corner up against Man U’s left defender only three minutes into the match. It had the Red Devils all shook up, but I smiled with pride when I saw Gareth give Cam a pat on the back as they jogged past each other. As beautiful as that moment was between them, I was disheartened not to be out there myself.
I can close my eyes and think of at least twenty different times when Camden and I embraced after a goal. If it was my goal, Cam would always ruffle my hair and fuck up my sweatband. I would shove him away and we’d push each other back and forth until it turned into a cheesy brotherly hug. If he scored, I usually tried to smack his arse or pinch his nipple, anything to embarrass him as only a twin brother can.
But this match was different. This was two brothers playing against each other. Two rival teams. The stakes were high. So seeing them congratulate each other in any small fashion proved that they put the Harris family pride above football, and that was a thing of beauty.
The Arsenal high from Cam’s goal was short-lived. Man U shook up the Gunners’ defence by popping in two goals within forty-four seconds of each other. They came out looking better after the break with some big stops from their keeper, but a final midfielder belt from United left Arsenal two down by the end of the match.
It was a sharp, clean game. Beautiful football through and through, which made me happy. No matter how frustrating a loss is, it’s never more maddening than when there’s dirty play and shoddy calls. I didn’t want that stress for my brothers. Not for their first face off.
We head to the South Stand entrance where the players come out so we can meet up with Camden and Gareth. Our plan is to grab a quick pint before Gareth has to leave. The press are swarming the area and I end up being pulled into three interviews, asking how I thought my brothers did. Just when I thought I was going to get out of there scot-free, a female reporter with way too white of teeth calls me her way.
“Tanner, did you and Belle Ryan enjoy the match?”
Belle is standing near the barricades, but her head perks up when she hears her name.
“We did. It was a great, clean game of football.”
“I see Belle is a Man U fan. How do you feel about that?”
I smile knowingly. “She’s a fan of football. That’s good enough for me.”
“So you two are spending a lot of time together it seems. Now a mini holiday away. Sightings of you are popping up all over. Does this mean it’s getting serious?”
The question makes me laugh, but I’m used to pushy reporters by now. This is no worse than when they grill me after a loss.
“I seriously think Dr. Ryan is lovely.” I wink at the reporter, trying to charm her a bit as I walk away.
“Is it true her father is planning to use connections within the Bethnal Green football club to get elected into the Supreme Court?”
This gives me pause. “What?”
“There’s speculation that a member of the selection commission is a season ticket holder at Tower Park, and Lord Ryan is first in line to take the next open spot on the court. Can you confirm that?”
“No, I can’t confirm that. But there are loads of people who like football in England, so I’m not surprised. I have to go.”
I stride over to Belle, who’s frowning at me in confusion. I grab her gently by the crook of her arm and usher her away from the crowd and into a quieter area.
“Any clue what that was all about?”
“No, what did she say exactly?”
“That your father is using some connections at Bethnal to get into the Supreme Court. What the fuck does the law and football have to do with one another?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” she replies with a scoff. “But knowing my father, he’s working an angle any way he can.”
I roll my eyes and drop a kiss on her lips. “Let’s not let him muck up our night.”
After Cam and Gareth are done with their interviews, the four of us head over to Sam Platt’s Pub for a quick pint. They have a VIP section for players to help them avoid the mobs of fans who are packing into the establishment. Manchester is out of this world with energy after a United victory.
We order a round of beers, and Belle has Cam and Gareth in rapture as she discusses highlights with them, referencing several different players and old matches the guys know all too well. Both of them give me a look several times like they can’t believe she is for real. I have to agree with them.
“Isn’t she great?” Gareth directs his question to Camden, who looks straight at Belle.
“I’ve known for a while.” Camden winks at Belle and it irritates me.
“Mind filling me in on what your cheeky wink is about?” I bark, annoyed at this little exchange and feeling a tightness in my neck that I don’t all together care for.
Belle laughs. “Easy boy, they are just impressed by my wicked football knowledge. Camden is always too busy snogging Indie to ever have a proper conversation with me.”
“Had I known all of this, I would have made time! Indie must be trying to keep you all to herself,” Camden cajoles.
“Well, you’re doing a proper job of keeping her all to yourself, which I fully approve of. You make Indie happy and that’s what’s most important.”
/> Camden gets a faraway look in his eyes when Belle mentions Indie, but Gareth doesn’t seem to notice. He elbows him and adds, “But I mean, isn’t Belle great for Tanner? I’ve never seen a girl bust his balls like this. It’s really impressive.”
“Tan the Man’s balls are made of mush anyway.” Belle wrinkles her nose and Camden and Gareth erupt into laughs. Again.
This is all really starting to make me uncomfortable. Before, when it was just Belle and me alone at the pool last night and at the match today, was manageable. I could let myself enjoy it. Now, seeing her invade my family life so easily and fit in with my brothers, I feel completely disarmed.
A few minutes later, Gareth mumbles something about needing to head home. He stands up and surprises all of us by pulling Belle into a hug. “Belle, it’s been a pleasure. You rival the likes of Vi and that’s a feat not easily achieved. I hope to see more of you.”
Belle flushes in surprise. My face heats as well. The compliment goes down my throat like broken glass. This is probably the highest form of praise a Harris Brother could ever bestow and it’s all too much.
It brings a heavy feeling to the pit of my stomach. A feeling I don’t welcome. I miss knowing myself. I miss having my routine: Football and family. That’s it. Between the suspension and losing Camden on my team, everything has been thrown out of whack for me. It’s forced me to look inside and see myself…see that it’s just me, not one of the Harris twins.
I need to get back to being the Tanner Harris I used to be. Light. Carefree. The Tanner Harris that makes sense to me. Whatever is happening around me right now doesn’t make sense.
Camden excuses himself shortly after Gareth leaves, so Belle and I make our way back to Gareth’s. I can feel her questioning gaze on me as we crawl into bed but, for whatever reason, she doesn’t push it. It’s the first time Belle Ryan actually holds back.
It was a long day and since we’ll be leaving early in the morning, we go right to sleep. It’s the first time in my life I sleep with a woman and do just that. Sleep.
“HI!” INDIE’S VOICE IS HIGH-PITCHED and excited as she comes clumping into our flat late on Sunday afternoon with three big bags in tow.
“Indie! I’ve missed you, darling!” I get up and run to hug her, knowing I’m being dramatic but practically bursting to talk to her.
I dropped Tanner off at his flat over three hours ago and I haven’t sat down once. I even popped in a workout DVD and lasted ten whole minutes before bailing ship and grabbing a chocolate. The bitch in the video kept saying, “I’m going to make you earn this!”
I showed her when I stuffed three chocolates into my mouth. But hell, I needed something to try to distract my thoughts until Indie got home.
Indie drops all her stuff at the bottom of the stairs while I pop into the kitchen for a couple of waters. I hand one to her as she tucks up on the sofa.
“How was the Bethnal match? I saw they lost.”
“Yeah, it was awful. Mendes twisted his ankle. He heard it pop and the X-ray showed torn cartilage. He’s probably out for a few weeks.”
“Oh, fuck me.” I wince. “Did you do the exam?”
“Yes, Dr. Nabours was tending to DeWalt.”
“Did he get hurt, too?”
“No, they think he was dehydrated. He’s a bit of a party boy. You could look at him and know why. He looks like Shemar Moore and has moves like Beckham. He’s in the muck with Vaughn big time.”
“Oh, that still sucks.”
“Yeah, but enough about me and my work. I’m dying to hear about you. Tell me everything. I can’t believe you went to Manchester with Tanner! How did it go?”
I exhale heavily. “It went!” I force a toothy grin. Her brown eyes are wide and waiting. “I don’t know, Indie. It was bloody perfect. It was fun. I got to hang out with Gareth and Cam for a bit and they were so great. Tanner was surprising, yet still so…Tanner. And…ugh!” I throw my head back in frustration and cover my face with my arm.
“Why are you ughing?” Indie pries.
“Because it’s Tanner! And he’s Tanner and he’s a pig and he’s a whore, and one second he makes me so happy and then the next second he makes me so furious!”
“What did he do to piss you off?”
“He got all awkward at the end! Things were so great. Friday night was incredible. Saturday was amazing, but then Saturday night he just…flipped a switch. He wouldn’t even pick a fight with me like he normally does. He did a complete one-eighty.”
“Did something happen?”
I shrug. “He was with me the whole time. Nothing happened. I think I’m maybe…confusing drama with happiness maybe.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Indie chastises. “Drama is passion, and passion in a footballer is second nature!”
“But why the change in script? I mean, I know what we’re doing is fake, but I thought we were both sort of enjoying this ride together.” I take a big drink of my water, attempting to cool down the anxiety pooling in my belly.
“What do you want to happen with you guys?” she asks, eyeing me thoughtfully.
“I don’t know. I guess I want to keep doing what we’re doing. The sex is incredible. I laugh so much. Yeah we quarrel, but it doesn’t seem to bother either of us. I don’t want serious, and I don’t think that’s what Tanner wants either. I just thought we could keep having fun and see what happens.”
Out of nowhere, tears prick the backs of my eyes and fall down my cheeks like they are operating on their own free will. I point to my face, a look of complete and utter horror. “Look at this shit! I’m ridiculous. Tanner Harris has made me utterly ridiculous.”
Indie giggles, “You’re not ridiculous.”
“My mother would say, ‘Come now, Belle, don’t turn the taps on again.’” I sniff once and swipe at my cheeks.
“Your mother is a cold, unfeeling cow,” Indie states deadpan.
“Bravo!” I exclaim with a smile. Indie being riled up is exactly what I need.
She baulks, “Well, since when did we start living our lives by her standards?”
“Since never.” I hold my bottle of water out to Indie for a cheers. She returns it with a bit of a scowl, still brooding over everything I’ve said.
She looks deeply into my eyes. “Belle, you’re a strong, confident doctor. You have the world by the balls. Don’t let Tanner’s stupidity make you crumble. He’s probably just sorting things out in his head. I’m sure he’s feeling the same way you are. You’re fabulous.”
I sigh. “I feel very unfabulous today. Perhaps it’s those three chocolates I ate while watching Jillian Michaels scream at me to move.” I prop my feet on the coffee table and ask, “What are you doing tonight? Maybe we can go see a film or rent something stupid and order in?”
Her face falls. “Well, I’m erm…heading out to Chigwell for Sunday dinner as soon as Camden gets here to pick me up.”
“What’s Sunday dinner?”
“Vi cooks at Vaughn’s house. All the boys come home for it. Even Gareth when he can manage.”
Hot shards of irritation course through me.
“Do you want to come?” Indie asks, looking horribly uncomfortable.
“Are you kidding?” I exclaim. “To a family dinner at the Harris’ house? That sounds about as fun as a dead vibrator.”
Indie eyes me with concern. “You look hurt.”
“I’m not hurt!” I snap, standing up and suppressing my grimace. “I’m just going to grab a bottle of wine and have a nice long bath. It’ll be the perfect night.”
“I’d really love it if you’d come with me.”
“Indie, will you just go?” My voice is harsher than I intended. “I have a big surgery this week I need to study for anyway.”
“Okay, but I really—”
“Go!”
And after hearing the slow click of the door to our flat, I let my faucets run.
“You’re an idiot,” Indie snipes, waltzing into Dad’s kitchen and whacking me
upside the head.
“Ouch! What the bloody hell for this time?” I rub the spot where she cracked me, smarting over how such a tiny person can hit so hard.
“You couldn’t think to invite Belle to dinner tonight?” She throws her hands on her hips, looking scarily like Vi.
“Tanner!” Vi exclaims, pulling a roasted chicken out of the oven and setting it down. She rubs her belly in small circles like she’s trying to soothe the baby inside of her. “What’s wrong with you?”
My eyes fly wide as I look back and forth between the two of them. “Why would I invite her?”
“Because you two are dating!” Indie replies.
“Fake dating!” I exclaim, my voice raising to a strange pitch in response to the urgency in her face.
“But you knew I’d come with Camden and she’d be home alone. It’s mean, Tanner.” Indie’s face is softer now, which only makes me feel worse.
“So mean,” Vi punctuates.
They are like a couple of footballers practicing their passing game.
I slide a hand through my hair. “How is it mean? I’ve just spent the whole weekend with her.”
“So what’s another meal?” Indie asks.
“She doesn’t need to come witness all of this.” I gesture out through the patio door to the garden where Gareth, Booker, and Hayden are standing.
Gareth actually made better time getting to London than Belle and I did today. Taking the train with him would have been a lot easier than the awkward silence in Belle’s car during our journey back, that’s for sure.
“Just look at them!” I exclaim. Gareth currently has Booker’s shirt pulled over his head and has him gripped in a headlock. Hayden is standing off to the side laughing his arse off and tossing a stick for Vi’s dog, Bruce.
Indie’s eyes fill with disappointment and it guts me almost as badly as Vi’s. She turns to walk away.
“Indie…” I move to stand up, but she waves her hand like she can’t hear another word and goes to join the guys outside.
