Page 81 of Game on, Love

She nodded thoughtfully like she was finding similarities between her world and mine.

We didn’t speak for the rest of the documentary, but the way she squeezed my hands every short while told me she wanted me to feel her presence, and each time she did it, the grounding feeling ran through me, doing exactly that.

Her willingness to understand the unspoken request and allow me my time to share things with her at my pace filled me with the same ever-so-consuming, rushing feeling.

As we walked out of the theatre and stepped out in the cold, I realised that our hands were still linked with each other. I wondered if she realised it, but on the chance she didn’t, I didn’t point it out.

Making our way to the tube, she broke the silence. “I really liked that documentary. Especially the way they had taken the shots on the field. I wonder how it all pulls through when they are filming.”

I smiled.

Of course, she noticed that.

I’d picked up that she loved the creative thinking that went into filming through her own content, almost like each frame meant something to her in her storytelling, even if it was a news piece. How did I know that? Well, I had already told her that Ilooked her up once, so nothing was stopping me from doing it again.

“Like the way they told the story, how they captured the emotions without making ittooheavy but also making it enjoyable for both new watchers of the sport and avid fans.”

“Have you ever thought about creating one of your own?”

“A sports documentary?”

I nodded. “You’d be great at it.”

She frowned as though that idea hadn’t come across her before, but the small glint I noticed in her eyes told me that, now that it had, it wasn’t completely far-fetched.

When we reached the station, the familiar noise of the underground greeted us as we scanned in. The distinct hiss of the trains, the echoes of steps meeting the tiled floors and the chatter of the crowd filled our ears. Friday evenings meant chaos and cramped spaces, but as Raina walked slightly ahead of me, her movements were sure, like she had done it a thousand times before.

But tonight, the crowd was particularly thick, and while she knew exactly where she was going, I couldn’t help but slip my fingers through hers again. She glanced up at me, amusement playing in her eyes. “Afraid of getting lost?”

“More like afraid of losingyou.”

She blinked, once, twice,like waiting for me to add something like‘in the crowd,’but I remained silent.

We stepped onto the platform just as the train arrived, the wind rushing as it screeched to a halt. The doors opened and people rushed in and out, and I guided us both inside the already crowded train. The only space left was the corner where the luggage was meant to sit or for people to lean against the small padded seat if they had no better option.

Knowing we had a small ride ahead of us, I nudged her gently so she wouldn’t get jostled by the crowd, sliding in thecorner first. She wasn’t a germophobe, but her argument foroutside clothestold me she also wasn’t one to lean against anything in the less-than-pristine state, which was the London Underground.

My shoulder blades touched the metal, my height giving me just enough advantage of the crowd to keep an eye out, but my attention was entirely on her.

Tugging her hand lightly, I pulled her against me. I was expecting a little back and forth about there barely being space for one person, but when she sagged a little against me, I wondered if the day was catching up to her.

“You tired?”

“A little,” She whispered just as we reached a stop, and I waited for people to get off the station. As soon as there was a little more space for her, I turned her and guided her to sit sideways on my thigh.

“What are you doing?” Her whispered voice was a mix of mortification and amusement. “I can’t sit on you. People will—”

“Mind their own business,” I replied easily, sliding my arm around her waist. “Look around, love. No one cares.”

“But—”

“No buts. You said you were tired, and we both know you would’ve refused if I asked you to swap places with me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She glanced at me sideways. “Don’t be smug.”

“If that’ll help my case. Then,” I wiped my face of any emotions, and she sighed as she shook her head. “It’s twenty minutes, Gorgeous. Don’t worry about it.”

She took my words in and settled against me properly. Her body angled in my direction, her hair brushing against my jaw, her body gently relaxing more into mine by each second, and satisfaction hummed through me as I tightened my hold.

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