Page 71 of Blindsided
“I know all that about him,” I reply, blinking back my confusion. “Why are you telling me this?”
Tilly exhales heavily and stops walking, turning to face me like she’s going to say something big. But the moment she looks into my eyes, she shakes her head and smiles. “Never mind.”
“Never mind what?” I ask nervously, reaching out to stop her from walking away.
“It’s nothing, Freya. You seem really sweet, and I’ve never seen Mac behave around a girl the way he is behaving around you. So maybe I’m wrong.”
“Wrong about what?” I ask, the anxiety in my belly making me spin.
Tilly looks down for a moment and then looks up. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re different than the normal WAGs that chase footballers around. You’re…real. I hope that means you two can make it.”
And with that, she turns and resumes her walk to the pet show that I can’t even get excited about anymore.
The afternoon is packed with activities, and ends with me and the guys winning the seven-a-side football. Thank fuck. If we had lost, we’d be an embarrassment to all of our teams to be sure.
The girls watch from the sidelines, drinking merrily, and I even show off a bit for Freya because I just can’t help myself. Kissing her in front of everyone like that was unexpected, but I haven’t exactly been the most sensible man around her these days. I just knew when I saw her in my family tartan that I had to grab her. Hold her. Claim her as mine and show her physically just how touched I was. The kilts she offered to make were already incredible, but the fact that she made that dress to surprise me meant something to me. It meant that she’s more than just a friend. She’s…Freya.
Which we clearly need to talk about. But every time we have a moment together, someone interrupts us. Bloody group trip has become a pain in my arse.
My family says their goodbyes after the match, and my grandpa makes me promise to come to his flat in the morning for breakfast so we can talk. Nerves shoot through my veins at his ominous words because despite how taken he was with Freya, I’m sure he’s going to tell me that spending time with her is a bad idea.
And maybe he’s right.
If Cami could screw up my game when I wasn’t even in a relationship with her, imagine what Freya Cook could do. But could I just walk away from Freya at this point? I honestly don’t know. And I don’t really want to think about it yet. I just want to enjoy what’s left of our trip and dance with my girl.
We clean up after the match, and it’s dark out when we go seek out the ladies who have made their way over to the street dance going on down the road. It’s a DJ’d dance with a mix of today’s music and traditional highland dancing that I’m total crap at.
As we approach, I see Freya sitting with two of my mates that I grew up with, and she’s laughing so hard, it makes me ache to be beside her. I’m supposed to be the one to make her laugh. Not Jerry. Fuck that nob. He was always a creepy bugger in school and likely still is.
As we walk through the gates, I see Jerry offer his hand to Freya, and she accepts it willingly. He leads her out onto the dance floor and begins showing her the highland dance that’s going on.
The entire scene pisses me the fuck off. Aye, I’ve had plenty of whisky today, so maybe I’m overreacting a bit, but I’m also not okay with my girl learning a Scottish dance with someone other than me.
I abandon my mates and make my way out onto the dance floor.
“I got it from here, Jerry,” I state, giving him a wee shove before taking Freya’s hand.
“Easy pal, I was just showing her some steps.”
“I know what you were doing.” I narrow my eyes at him.
Freya looks up at me with confusion all over her face. “Mac, don’t be so rude to your friend.”
I scoff and murmur, “Jerry is hardly my friend. And he doesn’t need to be showing you how to dance. I do.”
Freya laughs. “You’re a horrible dancer.”
“Aye, but this fucker doesn’t need to be the one showing you something in my town.” I glance over my shoulder, and a spark of anger ignites inside of me when I see him still lurking behind me. “Jerry, seriously man. What are you still doing here?”
Jerry laughs and holds his hands up defensively before walking away.
I turn back to Freya, who looks positively pissed now. “This is the third time you’ve barrelled in and ripped me away from someone. Jealousy is not a becoming trait on you, Mac.”
My jaw drops. “Jerry doesn’t count. He’s a bawbag who’s just trying to irritate me.”
“He’s not a bawbag,” Freya defends, her brows pinched together in the middle. “He’s been telling me stories about you and him growing up, which I’ve been enjoying.”
“Well, by all means, don’t let me interrupt you.” I gesture back to our group of friends, which Jerry has rejoined. They all seem to be watching us in rapt fascination.
