Page 124 of Off the Pitch

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t worry,” Lucas continued, “but maybe a little more positivity would help. You should definitely talk to Nick too. There is nothing to indicate you won’t make a full recovery. Except the fact that you seem determined to think you won’t.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” I said, pretending to grumble but not able to hide my smile. I’d been expecting a call from Nick, one of the club’s sport psychologists, any day, so I didn’t think I’d be able to avoid it for much longer.

“Good.” Lucas nodded. “I have one more thing to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I’m giving you a week off.”

“What? Why?” That made no sense at all.

“We’re off to Singapore on a preseason tour, and there’ll only be a skeleton team here,” Lucas said as if that explained everything.

“I could come in and work in the gym.”

“No. You’re going to take a week off and do something fun. Stop moping.”

“Do something fun?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas said. “Spend time with your boyfriend, go away for a few days, relax, and don’t think about football. I don’t want to see you until you get back, and I will tell them not to let you in if you turn up.”

“That’s…” I tried to think of something to say. Ridiculous? That didn’t quite seem right. I didn’t need a week off though. I needed to get back in the gym.

My thoughts flicked to Kit for a moment, wondering what he’d say. Then I remembered how often I’d found him hunched over his computer lately, staring at a screen or rubbing his eyes. I’d heard him grumbling that nothing seemed to be working or muttering darkly when he thought I couldn’t hear him.

Maybe we could both do with a break.

And a change of scenery.

An idea flickered to life in my mind… a little thought based on something Kit had said ages ago.

“Okay,” I said, turning to Lucas. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Good,” he said. “It’ll be good for you.”

We chatted for a few minutes more before he nudged me out of his office. The first thing I did was grab my phone and pull up Google, praying I could pull off what I was thinking.

Chapter Sixteen

KitWould you object if I just ate the jar of Nutella with a spoon?

HugoThat bad huh?

KitI mean I could just eat it with my fingers, but even I’d drawn the line there

Kit

Sometimes I hated being an artist.

Art was hard. Really hard. And currently I had no ideas and apparently no skill, since I couldn’t even seem to draw stick figures, let alone fantasy warriors.

Everything sucked, and I hated it.

And we were also out of chocolate biscuits, which made everything worse, but I couldn’t be asked to go out and get more because that would involve leaving the flat and that was not happening.

I really wanted to be able to lose myself in one of my own canvases with charcoal and paint and just do whatever the fuck I wanted for several hours. But since my palettes, canvases, and easel were still at my house, that wasn’t happening either. Well, it could, but that would also mean leaving the flat, which I’d already decided wasn’t happening.

I really wished I hadn’t taken on so many projects recently, but I hadn’t felt in a position to say no since the money was good, and now, I had a large case of buyer’s remorse. It would have been amazing to be able to drop out, but I wasn’t that sort of person.

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