Playing Dirty (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)

by Avery Wilde

  I rolled my eyes but kept my mouth shut. At least I could use this as leverage for the rest of my trip whenever I wanted to do something. I grinned at the thought; Lizzy owed me at least three shopping trips for dragging me straight from the airport to a sweaty soccer game even though she knew I didn’t like sports.

  “Oh, we’re going home first,” she said, as if reading my mind. “That way you can change and shower.”

  I looked down at my boyfriend jeans and artfully-wrinkled linen tunic. “I think this is fine for a game.”

  Lizzy rolled her eyes. “For someone who has a stylist for her own TV show, you should know better,” she said. Linking her arm through mine, she led me out to the parking lot and to her tiny little rental car.

  We zoomed through the countryside and I gripped my door with blind fear. Lizzy laughed when she saw my expression.

  “I know, it’s scary suddenly being on this side of the road,” she said, her voice softening. “But it’s nothing compared to driving. You should try shifting with your left hand!”

  I had to keep my eyes closed for the rest of the drive, and when we pulled up at Lizzy’s apartment, she helped me lug my bags inside.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I made a room in the living room for you.”

  “Cool, thanks!”

  Lizzy’s apartment was tiny but comfortable. She’d dragged a screen over to the corner and made a little private area with a camp bed and a nightstand for me.

  “I know it’s not ideal,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “But I figured you’d rather have your own space.”

  I grinned. “This is great,” I said. “Honestly, it’s perfect. I love it.”

  And I did. Lizzy’s apartment was about as far away from mine as possible. My apartment was rather large, elegantly bare, with high ceilings and everything painted white. Lizzy’s looked like it was part of a building from another time, with a smooth tiled floor and dark appliances. It already felt like I was a million miles away from NYC, and I was even starting to feel better about going to the soccer match.

  This trip was exactly what I needed.

  I took a shower and got dressed in the same boyfriend jeans with a different top. The weather was humid, so I braided my hair in a lazy crown and pinned the ends up, and after a touch of lipstick and mascara, I was ready to go. Happily, I noticed that my reflection was a lot different than the Kate of ‘Keeping Current With Kate’. I actually looked relaxed.

  “Let’s go,” Lizzy said. She was bouncing up and down excitedly. “This is gonna be so great!”

  “I’m bringing a book,” I said with a teasing grin, pointing inside my bag. “And I might even take it out and read it depending on how things go.”

  Lizzy opened her green eyes wide and stared at me. “They’re playing Liverpool,” she said dramatically. “That’s like, huge rivalry, Kate.”

  “That’s cool,” I said breezily. “But really I’m just looking forward to being outside with some wine and a good read.”

  Lizzy chuckled, but she didn’t say anything. I had to laugh as well; this was so typical of us. She’d always been the tomboy out of the two of us, into every sport with a ball and cute guys. I usually watched the Super Bowl with friends, but that was it. Aside from that, the closest I’d been to sports in recent years was when I’d done a special edition on how harmful jock culture could be to young women in our home country, featuring a woman who’d been gang-raped by a drunken college lacrosse team at a house party.

  The football stadium was packed with fans, all done up in face paint and scarves featuring a red, black, and yellow pattern. Interested, I stared at the emblem. I did have to admit, at least European logos were cooler than American ones, and I felt an odd sense of excitement rush over me as Lizzy led us to our seats. We were packed in like sardines, but the good mood of the crowd was infectious.

  When Lizzy caught me smiling, she grinned. “I knew you’d have fun here,” she said. “Look! Those are the guys!”

  She pointed down at the field, and I saw tiny handsome figures in red running out on the pitch. We were so far away that I had to use Lizzy’s binoculars to zoom in, and when I recognized the features of one of the guys, I gasped. It was him. Jay Walsh—the very same guy that I’d seen prominently displayed all over the Manchester pages I’d visited online.

  I groaned. “I recognize that guy,” I said, pointing in his direction. “He’s Jay Walsh. When I was booking my flight, there were tons of ads with his face on them. And erm…his body too.”

  I recalled his tattooed chest and sculpted abs, and I felt a tingling warmth between my legs, which I immediately ignored.

  Lizzy raised her eyebrows. “Oh, my god, you actually remembered his name?” She cackled and I blushed hotly. “He’s like, the most famous one on the team! Isn’t he dreamy?”

  He was, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right. “He’s okay, I guess, if you like those big beefy types,” I replied with a shrug.

  Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Come on, just admit he’s hot!” she said. “It’s okay to be normal for once, Kate.”

  “Fine…he’s kinda hot,” I said, blushing as Jay’s eyes swept over the crowd and loud female voices shrieked their approval. His eyes seemed to linger on me, but I knew that was impossible. After all, we were in the nosebleed seats of the stadium.

  Once the match started, I felt myself zone out a little bit. The crowd booed every time Liverpool scored, and by the middle of the game I was starting to get back into the energy. It was so different from an American game; the energy was electric, happy. There seemed to be a very friendly, blue-collar attitude among almost all of the onlookers, and I almost felt like I was bonding with everyone else there. Lizzy was clearly having the time of her life, screaming and cheering every time Manchester scored. Plus, the men were gorgeous. They moved across the field like spirited, sleek animals, and Jay especially had a kind of magnetism about him that made me keep searching for him. Every time he scored, he’d smirk and look around the stadium, taking clear pride in his popularity.

  “Seems like a big head on that one,” I said, pointing at Jay again as I passed the binoculars back to Lizzy as the first half of the game ended. “He’s awfully proud of himself.”

  “Probably because he’s a hotshot football player,” Lizzy said with an arched brow. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t be proud of that?”

  I frowned. “It’s cool and all. Good for him,” I said. “But I mean, he’s not really making a difference, is he? He’s getting rich playing a sport, and aside from that, all I’ve read about him is that he goes out clubbing a lot and has sex with tons of women.”

  Lizzy looked at me and shook her head. “I guess the media does focus on his playboy side a lot, but he’s actually a pretty good guy,” she said. “He’s from Belfast, and he spends a lot of time working with charities up there. I think he grew up really poor or something.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling slightly guilty for having judged the guy so quickly. But then as I kept watching him, I saw him lightly slap the ass of a squealing female fan who’d run out to hug him as the team headed off the field for halftime, and I rolled my eyes. Just because someone contributed to charity didn’t mean they weren’t a sleazy ass; maybe my initial assessment of him had been right after all.

  When halftime ended, Lizzy hoisted the binoculars to her eyes, and she let out a soft little sigh as she watched her favorite players run around. She didn’t say much for a while, and I realized how utterly enchanted she was with the game. It was obviously something that meant a lot to her, and I started feeling guilty for giving her crap earlier.

  Manchester United ended up winning the game, and Lizzy and the other fans went nuts, jumping up and screaming and hollering loudly. I even got caught up in the excitement and started clapping, smiling as I saw everyone’s utterly thrilled reactions. However, I was also absolutely starving, so part of me was definitely glad that it was over. Maybe I could ta
lk Lizzy into finding a nice pub for dinner later.

  I was almost starting to salivate, thinking of the scotch eggs that I’d eat, when Lizzy tugged at my sleeve. “Come on,” she hissed in my ear. “We’re going to the locker room now!”

  “We don’t have to wait for them to change?”

  “No. And don’t worry, it’ll only be a few minutes,” she said. “Come on, I think they’ll be nice. As long as we don’t go in there wearing Liverpool banners, at least.”

  “Damn, I was totally gonna do that,” I teased, and she giggled.

  Ruffling her hair, I fell into step behind her in the crush of people. The huge crowd was moving down and out of the stadium, like a slow-moving, sweaty river. The closer to the pitch we got, the stronger the scent of stale beer became. Some of the men leaving the stadium were drunk and really raucous, and I clung to Lizzy’s hands, not wanting to be separated from her. The accents were different than what I’d always imagined them to be—not posh London, but harsher, with lots of emphasis on the vowels. I couldn’t even understand what some of the drunk guys were talking about, and despite my slight discomfort, I couldn’t help but grin. I felt as far away from NYC as ever.

  Lizzy showed some papers to a security guard outside the locker room, and he waved us in. The air was hot and humid, like a shower, and it smelled of pure masculinity. I wrinkled my nose, but in reality it wasn’t as unpleasant as I’d expected. It actually smelled kind of good. God, what is happening to me? I thought. One day away from home and I’m turning into a soccer groupie.

  We weren’t the only fans going in; there was a crowd of screaming, shrieking, squealing girls, and as soon as the team appeared, the girls launched themselves at various players. Jay Walsh had the biggest fan crowd to contend with, and I watched as he grinned and obligingly took selfies with all of his fans.

  “How long are we allowed to stay, Lizzy?” I asked.

  But she had already disappeared. When I turned around, I saw her chatting up another tall Adonis. Unlike Jay, this guy had let his hair grow slightly long, and it was a lighter shade of brownish-blond, which highlighted his bright blue eyes and complemented Lizzy’s darker beauty. She looked happy and without a trace of self-consciousness, and for a moment I was envious of her ability to just walk right up to a soccer star and start chatting with him.

  “This is a prime bunch,” one of the guys called to Jay. He grinned.

  “We’re gonna get our pick of the pussy tonight, boys,” he replied, just loudly enough for me to hear him from where I was standing off to the side. I wrinkled my nose. The girls were draping themselves on him and begging for autographs, and Jay was indulging them the same way that he might indulge a litter of puppies, all smiles and cajoling.

  Seriously, why did women go for guys like him? He’d literally just referred to the women here as ‘pussy’ like that’s all they were to him; not human women, just slabs of meat to devour whenever he felt like it.

  “What do you birds think of coming to a party with us tonight?” Jay said to the girls with a grin. “I think you girls would be a hit.”

  As they all squeaked their unanimous acceptance, I rolled my eyes and turned around. Lizzy bounded back over to me, a signed soccer ball in her hands. “Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and dragging me across the room. “Let’s meet Jay!”

  “I don’t know,” I said. Some of my good mood had vanished. “He seems like a real asshole. He was talking about those girls like they were a herd of cattle.” And they were eating it up, I thought to myself with a scowl. It’s like they want to be objectified!

  “He’s not really like that,” Lizzy said. “I mean, he’s just excited. They just won a huge match and he has all these cute girls around him. Wouldn’t you be excited?”

  I sighed. She had a point, and even nice men did tend to act like meatheads on occasion, especially when they were around a lot of other big, masculine guys.

  “Fine, we’ll go meet him,” I said, remembering my earlier guilt for not getting excited about her interests.

  “Yay!”

  Together, we crossed the room and stood in front of Jay, and Lizzy chirped his name.

  “Hello there,” he said. He smiled warmly at Lizzy and me, and I could barely manage to wipe the scowl off my face. “You ladies like the match?”

  His accent sent shivers down my spine. It was really sexy, but there was no way I’d ever admit that to Lizzy. I barely wanted to admit it to myself.

  “Nice win,” Lizzy said. “You showed those Liverpool arseholes!”

  Jay laughed. “We did,” he said, grinning and exposing a mouth full of even, white teeth. In person, he was even more handsome than he had been in the ads. I could see that his blue eyes were flecked with gold, and his tan skin practically glowed, even in the dull lighting of the locker room. As we posed for a picture together, I felt my heart racing in my chest when he casually draped his arm over my shoulders.

  “Say, why don’t you two come by our party later?” Jay said. “It’s gonna be real craic!”

  I blinked. Aside from not knowing what ‘craic’ meant, it seemed like the worst idea I’d heard yet. “I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I just got in from the States today. I’m exhausted.” And I don’t really love the idea of watching you preen around for hours in front of your adoring fans while referring to them as ‘pussy’, I thought to myself. What a great way to make me lose my appetite.

  “Aw, come on,” Jay said. He winked at me and I felt my stomach do a flip-flop. “You look like you could use a night out. And if you come, I’ll score a goal for you at the next game. I promise.”

  I snorted. “You’re going to have a lot of goals to score first,” I said, gesturing to the gaggle of girls that were now swarming another soccer player. “What about all of them?”

  Jay shook his head and grinned, and I felt the same butterflies in my stomach. “I didn’t promise any of them a goal,” he said. “Just you. So will you come?” “

  “She’ll come,” Lizzy broke in. “Right?”

  She looked at me and I felt her green eyes boring intensely into me. From that alone, I knew I was defeated.

  “Okay, I’ll come,” I said with a nod. “At least for a few minutes.”

  “Good,” Jay replied, before winking at us again.

  “As long as you behave and don’t act like an ass,” I added. “That’s my condition.”

  Jay slapped one of his giant hands over his heart and gave me a solemn look. “I’ll behave,” he said, holding his serious expression. Then he grinned at me again, and I felt my stomach flutter.

  I smiled. I liked that he had a good sense of humor, and it made me wonder if I’d overreacted in my initial assessment of him. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. And even if he is, I thought. It’s just one party.

  How much harm could that do?

  Chapter Four

  Kate

  “I can’t believe you said yes!” Lizzy’s face was glowing; she practically looked as though she was lit from within. “This is going to be so much fun, I promise.”

  “As long as you don’t keep saying ‘arsehole,’” I replied with a giggle. “It makes you sound weird.”

  Lizzy shrugged. “When in Rome,” she said, winking at me, and I blushed again. “So, you liked Jay, huh?”

  I bit my lip. “He was fine,” I said, trying to keep a nonchalant tone to my voice. “Sexy. But kind of full of himself, right?”

  Lizzy rolled her eyes. “I think something would be wrong with him if he wasn’t. He’s famous, right?”

  “True,” I said, narrowing my eyes and digging through my suitcase. “What should I wear to this party, anyway?” Before Lizzy could see the black dress, I tucked it behind a pile of other clothes. “Jeans?”

  Lizzy shrugged. “I’m wearing pants,” she said. “It’s not formal. They’re just having people over to their football club for drinks.”

  I settled on black skinny jeans and a tank top with intricate silver beadi
ng on the front. The air had turned chilly since dusk had set in, and I shivered as I rummaged through my suitcase again.

  “I can’t find any of my cardigans…got a spare?” I asked.

  Lizzy nodded and tossed me one of her jackets, and I gratefully slipped it on, pulling my arms tight over my body as we stepped outside and began the short walk to the public transport which would take us to Manchester United’s FC. As we walked, Lizzy pointed out various shops and cafes that she liked, and I made mental notes to come back and try them all. So far, Manchester was absolutely charming. I’d heard some bad things about it before, but I decided that I liked it. It was definitely more relaxing than a trip to London would have been, and I silently thanked my sister for inviting me and pulling me out of my depressing rut.

  I wasn’t nervous until we were almost there, and suddenly, anxiety slipped over me, making me close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’d been a long time since I’d felt like this; working on my show had knocked most of my old nervousness out of me.

  “Is this going to be wild?” I asked. “I haven’t been to a rager since college, you know.”

  Lizzy playfully slapped me on the arm. “It’s gonna be fun,” she replied. “That’s all. Just a few drinks. We don’t have to stay long. Just find me when you want to leave and we’ll go home together. “

  I nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Then, taking a deep breath, we entered the club. It was crowded, loud, and warm with the crush of people, and Lizzy spotted the blond soccer player she’d been chatting with earlier before darting off in his direction. I was left standing alone in the foyer, tapping at the ground with the toe of my shoe as I tried to figure out my next move. Lizzy was already making herself at home—when I looked over, she was throwing her head back in laughter as the blond player pulled her onto his broad lap. She tossed back a shot glass filled with vile-looking pink liquid before letting out a screech, and I smiled and shook my head. Lizzy may have been mature for her age, but she was definitely still a college student.