Page 12 of Not Falling for the Forward
I heave in another lifesaving breath feeling my lugs finally expanding to their full potential as more fog lifts out of my mind. My heart still pounds, loud in my ears, but it is slowing to a normal rhythm.
“They asked about the accident.” It’s barley a whisper but acknowledging it makes my shoulders drop and more of the tension leave my body.
“Are you fucking kidding me!” I move my phone away from my ear as Aimee’s voice almost bursts my ear drum. “Every single one of those fuckers know not to ask you about it. You’ll speak when you’re ready.”
“It’s cause of the date, Aims.” I sigh, “I get it.”
“Well, I don’t. Why would they ask about it today of all days?”
“They just wanted to know how I have found getting on with the new team.” I say, sticking up for the interviewer. Aimee’s protectiveness is one of the best things about her, she would fight for anyone she loves, especially if she sees them hurting.
“Oh.” All the fight has left Aimee’s voice, “Do you think maybe it triggered you because it’s the anniversary?”
I run a hand through my hair as I answer, “Well yeah, it’s a fucking big day.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice much flatter now. “Why are you working today anyway? Don’t you usually spend it with Andrea and Charlie?” I flinch at the names of my best friend’s parents as guilt fills me up. I haven’t seen them since last year, have barley spoken to them really. Not since a few months ago when they called to say they would be on holiday this week having decided to enjoy their time together instead of staying here and wallowing in grief. I can’t blame them. They deserve to be happy. I just can’t help feeling left behind.
“They’re in the Dominican. I thought being busy today would keep my mind off things.” I huff out a deflated laugh at how well that went.
“Sounds like it helped,” Aimee deadpans and I can practically hear her eye roll. “You going back out there or do you want me to fake an emergency so you can come home?” I smile knowing my sister would absolutely start screaming bloody murder right now if I needed her to. “Nah, I best go back out there.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, gotta keep them sweet, don’t I? God forbid I get on their bad side and they start trashing me again, they’re the only ones on my side.” I stand and smooth out my wrinkled shirt, feeling much lighter after having spoken to my sister. Even if it was just to acknowledge how I am feeling. I know it’s not fair to burden her all the time, but she is the only one that gets it. They were her friends too.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she says. I run my hands through my hair and sip some water from one of the many complementary bottles that are in the dressing room. The cold liquid centres my body even more.
“I am.” I put on one of my well-practiced grins even though she can’t see me. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
Chapter five
Emily
Regardless of the fact that I was fully humbled by Jess and Dan last week and that Jack is obviously not interested, I haven't been able to keep my eyes off the tattooed God this whole match. He played the full ninety-five minutes with extra time, and he scored two out of the three goals for his team. Having no casualties to attend meant that I could be pitch side to watch the whole thing. I’ve seen him play before, but now it’s like there is no one else on the team. Even when the ball was at the other end of the pitch, I was watching him, hands on his hips as he gulped down large breaths, filling up his well sculpted chest. Then, when the ball came in to range, the utter focus he had, sprinting on those thick legs to secure a tackle.
Unbelievably sexy.
Oh no. I do not fancy Jack Cartwright.
I need to apologise for being a bitch, then I can get him out of my head and not need to stare at him for a whole match to see if he looks like someone hurt his feelings.
God, he probably doesn't even remember the conversation. I really do need to check my ego.
“Game’s over, Em.” Daves voice startles me as he nudges me out of my daydream. I blink and my eyes refocus to see the team clapping and walking to greet the fans at the side of the pitch. I stand and let out an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry, must have been miles away.”
Yes, miles away thinking about Jack Cartwright’s thick thighs. Hussy.
I stand and make my way inside as small drops of rain start to fall from the sky. “Eeesh, are you sure you don’t want a lift home?” Dave turns and asks.
Ahh yes, my car. My exhaust fell off this morning on the way to the gym. Dave picked me up for tonight’s match, but my house is twenty minutes out of his way and it’s Tuesday night. I know Dave gets up for work at five a.m., and I would rather eat my own hair then inconvenience someone. “Honestly, it’s fine, I’ll get the bus. It’s only a little water.”
A little water turned into a freezing cold February downpour. And in a surprising turn of events the bus is twenty minutes late. And in what is just my luck, the bus stop has no shelter. Oh, and my jacket isn’t as waterproof as I first thought.
Anyway, why would the bus be on time? Not that I’m getting absolutely piss wet through or anything.
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