Page 32 of Matched Up

I followed him down the banks and into the middle of the pitch.I watched him flick the ball into the air then volley it into the net.Top-left corner.

Jesus, he was hot.

‘Teach me how to dothat,’ I said.

‘I will.But not yet.’

He passed me the ball.And then walked towards me.He fingered the logo on my –his –top.

‘Nice top.’

I shrugged.‘Thought it might give me baller vibes.’

He laughed.‘Hope you’re not tainting it with whatever’s underneath.’

I pulled the top over my head to reveal my new Man United away shirt.

He covered his eyes.‘No.God, no, put it back on.’Helaughed.Then he looked at me seriously.‘Or maybe you should just take that off too.’One corner of his mouth turned up.

‘Nice try.I’m actually here to train.Someof us are serious about football.’

‘Remember what I said last night?’He raised his eyebrows.

‘Fun, blah, blah, blah,’ I teased.

I put my top back on and as I brushed hair from my face, he kissed me out of the blue, his lips cold, his tongue warm.Then he pulled away.

‘OK, maybe I’ll rethink …’ I bit my lip to stop myself grinning at him.‘I could get used tothiskind of fun.’

‘Sorry, I got distracted.You shouldn’t show up looking like that …’ His hands were in his pockets now and he was scanning me up and down in the darkness.It was like he was tracing me with his fingertips.

‘Like what?’

‘So hot.’

And this time it was me who kissed him, closing the space between us, my hands on his face, tasting him, breathing him in.I was out of breath when I pulled away.

He smiled and arched an eyebrow.‘Maybe we should have a rule.No kissing during training?’

I mock pouted and sighed.‘That’s a terrible rule.But makes sense,I suppose.’

He made me do drill after drill after drill until I really did have to take the top off again because I was sweating so much.But I was laughing too.Which was new for me when it came to football.He took the piss out of every crap pass or softtackle, and it made me want to try harder.The opposite of Westing training sessions in every way.

Then we practised marking.He showed me how I should stand when the other team have a corner.One of my arms round his back, the other across his front.And it was hard to keep my focus then, to listen to him as he explained where and why and what that would mean for the rest of the game.It felt like I’d already learned more from Shane in thirty minutes than I had from Sadie in four years.

‘Want to take some shots?’he asked eventually.

‘I thought you’d never ask.’I took the ball and lined it up on the penalty spot as he stood in the nets.

He couldn’t be a good keeper too.He was a striker, and goalkeeper was a very specific skill.Low and hard, that’s where I needed to put them.And it was still dark too, he’d never save my shots.

My first shot was low and hard into the left corner, just like I’d planned.But I didn’t score.His reflexes were insane.He threw himself on to the ground, left and right, jumping for the top corner ones.

He didn’t let me scoreonce.

‘Oh my God, are you serious?’I laughed and he grinned back at me.

‘You’ll never get better if I go easy on you.’He stood up and wiped his hand across his forehead, pushed his dark floppy hair back and locked eyes with me.Then he looked at his phone.‘I need to go.’He sounded disappointed, which eased the sting.

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