Page 4 of Such A Dirty Girl
With each passing day, my life felt more like one giant lie. I’d become a people pleaser at a young age. First I’d tried to smooth my parents’ rocky marriage by being the perfect son, then I’d let it spill into every area of my life. The dog never ate myhomework. Shoes always clean. No elbows on the table. Always being fair on the rugby field. Just the right amount of aggression for a rugby player. Never losing my temper.
It was exhausting.
Sarah had been my one reprieve from perfection. The place I felt most myself was by her side. Yet, even with her, I strived to be the best boyfriend who ever boyfriended. Bought her the ideal gifts. Gave her just the right attention, for every situation. For years—it worked.
Recently, something had changed though. Outwardly, Sarah was still the same sweet, darling partner, but she’d occasionally freeze when I touched her. Or pretend to sleep when I got into bed. Something had crept into those quiet moments between us, subtle yet undeniable, and started to wedge us apart. Whenever I tried to prod her gently for a reason, she dismissed it with reassurances of her love. I never doubted her love, but something was bothering her. I needed to figure out what.
‘Hello, love,’ I said as I approached the table, beer in hand.
‘Jake!’ Sarah stood and slid her arm around my waist, pulling me into a kiss. Cherry lip balm and prosecco tingled on my lips, and before she could pull back I deepened the kiss, revelling in the deliciousness, until she turned her face away, blushing. Her cheeks pinked, and warmth flooded my chest.
God, I love her.
‘Well done on the match, you were something else,’ she said, her voice breathy.
‘Wasn’t he just?’
I didn’t know the woman who spoke, another transient member of our team’s other halves most likely. With a few of the younger guys, I lost track entirely of who belonged to whom. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure they remembered from week to week.
Sarah tightened her grip on my waist, pulling me closer. I adored it when she got territorial.
Claim me, baby.
‘So kind of you to say,’ I replied. Just enough not to be rude, but in a way that didn’t encourage further conversation. I’d long gotten used to the art of sticking to polite conversation with hungry-looking women who hung around the team. While some fancied a particular guy, more often than not they just wanted to datea rugby player. Which one didn’t matter.
Lord knew why. Sure, we got paid decently for running around with a ball and tussling in the mud, but it wasn’t premiership money. And off the pitch we were training, drinking, or strapped up from injuries. Hardly a glamorous life.
‘How are you?’ I asked Sarah, placing my pint on the table and focusing all my attention on her.
‘Good. Missed you today.’ The way her left cheek broke into a dimple had me melting every time. She was a work of art.
‘Not too long until the season’s done and we can bugger off somewhere sunny for a few weeks.’ Every year we’d jump on a plane the morning after the last game, usually groggy-headed and feeling half alive. But recovery next to a pool with the sun beating down on my skin and my girl by my side was worth it. Miles from expectation. I could turn my phone off, and it was like the world didn’t exist until I turned it back on.
‘With cocktails?’ Sarah trailed a hand over my abs, my shirt tugging beneath her fingers.
‘You know it.’ I leaned in and winked. ‘Heavy on the cock.’
There it was. That barely there twitch in her eyes. Her lips pursed before she caught herself and reset her face into a smile. I furrowed my brow. She never used to respond like that. We’d always joked around together and used ridiculous innuendo to make one another laugh. Had she matured out of it?
‘Sorry,’ I added, a seed of panic rooting deep in my stomach.
‘No need to be,’ Sarah said. It was like the blip hadn’t happened. Her face was a picture of glowing adoration again.
And I recognised it for what it was.
A mask.
One I’d worn for years.
Before I could dig further, a muscled arm gripped me around the shoulders, all masculine saltiness and aftershave. Drew pulled me into a rough side hug before ruffling a hand through my hair.
‘You’re doing a shit job of drinking your pint, bro. Too busy throwing heart eyes at Sarah again?’ Drew released me and shoved my pint back into my hand. Sarah scowled at him, and when I made to protest, Drew hopped up on the empty chair beside us. ‘Three cheers for our man of the match! Jake Belmont! The indomitable otter.’
The grotty old pub filled with a raucous din, cheers and shouts deafening around me. Still, I couldn’t help but grin as the energy in the room increased a dozen-fold. My team. My boys. I fucking loved them.
If I got scouted, I’d miss the hell out of them all.
Especially my twat of a stepbrother, who never stopped pushing forward despite often feeling like the underdog.
