Page 13 of Not Falling for the Forward
Jack
“Two out of three. Jack, how does that feel?” The reporter asks as a mic is thrust under my face.
I grin unable to keep it in. “Incredible,” I reply. Not lying at all.
It does feel incredible, these moments when we’re on top, knowing I helped get us there. It’s why I was hired; I used to be a top goal scorer with City. After my accident my pace dropped so I couldn’t keep up with the premier league players, but I could still score goals, and I was desperate to still play football. After many discussions with my manager and my family we decided I should still play, just in a lower league. It was never about the money for me. I make that on brand deals and through sponsors. It’s always been about the game. When we have games this good, and I perform like that, I can’t help but be elated.
The fact that a certain first aider was sat pitch side, eyes always on me, helped massively with this good mood I am in. I have decided that is the best thing about playing in a lower league, how close the fans are to the pitch. I can see exactly who can’t take their eyes off me. My grin widens remembering those green eyes following me up and down the pitch.
“Your leg not giving you a hard time, then?” The reporter asks.
“I’m as healthy as I always have been.” Again, not a lie, but a definite avoidance of the question. My hip is well and truly ‘giving me a hard time,’ I am in absolute agony and will be off to see the team physio as soon as this round of interviews is done. I will never be fully better, if I keep pushing it like this then my replacement won’t hold up. Money can buy the best surgeons, equipment and recovery resources, but I can only push as much as it will let me. But I can’t give up the sport, it was never just my dream.
Chapter six
Jack
“What are you doing there?” I murmur as I eye the brunette that has been plaguing my thoughts for weeks. Why is she standing at a bus stop in the pouring rain at ten thirty p.m. post Tuesday night match?
I pull my car to the curb alongside her and lean over opening my passenger side window. “Do you need a ride?” I shout over the downpour outside.
Emily’s eyes widen in what I can only assume is surprise at seeing me here. A small smile graces her full lips, and I almost think she is going to agree until she replies with something like, “Thank you, but I'll wait for the bus.” It’s too hard to make out above the pounding of rain on my car roof. But I’m sure she just said no to a warm, dry ride home.
I let out a frustrated huff, it's dark and pissing down. What is this woman doing standing by a bus stop with no shelter and no lighting? She's soaked from head to toe, her hood doing absolutely nothing to protect her face from the rain. And now she is declining a ride home. Normally, I would enjoy the defiance and trying to break it, but she is going to get ill standing here.
“Seriously, Emily, it's only getting worse,” I plead gesturing to the sky through my windscreen.
“No.” She straightens her back.
Fuck, she’s so stubborn. I love it.
How many times has she rejected me now? I should probably get the point and leave her here to catch pneumonia. She did say she didn’t like to say no more than once to people and that she would get less polite each time. The thought of an angry Emily has me smirking, I can imagine her cheeks pink with frustration, the crinkle between her eyes getting deeper a finger pointed up at me.
“I'm sure it won't be long,” she yells back, and crosses her arms.
I’m not sure this bus is even coming. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bus stop here. The thought of leaving her here in the dark, alone has my stomach falling out of my arse.
“Em.”
She turns her back to me.
Right then, if she won’t get in. I pull on my hand break, open my door and step out into the downpour.
The sudden sheet of cold takes my breath away, it’s like being dunked in an ice bath. My tracksuit isn’t exactly ‘all weather gear’ and my pants are already soaked and sticking to my legs. I walk around the back of my car and stand next to a gaping Emily. “What are you doing?” she demands.
“Well, if it's not going to be long, I'll just wait here with you.” I smile down at her, channelling all my inner cocky football star as I suppress a shiver.
“You can’t park in a bus stop,” Emily says between shivering teeth.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I wink.Your move.
“I…” she stutters and shakes her head as if she can’t believe my audacity. “Okay, fine, it says on the bus stop that it should have been here twenty-six minutes ago, so I’m expecting it any time.”
“Perfect,” I reply and fold my arms, mirroring her stance. It’s mostly for warmth but I’m not going to let her know that. I can feel my nipples through my jumper I’m so fucking cold, I can’t imagine how cold Emily must be having been stood here for God knows how long.
We’re silent for about ninety seconds, and I take the time to study her. She's doing everything she can not to look at me, phone out, phone back, look at the timetable on the bus stop, look at the ground. Her fidgeting is cute. Her shivering is not. My teeth grind at the thought of her being uncomfortable; I want her home, warm and safe. Tucked up with a nice hot chocolate wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown, she’d be naked underneath and I’d… Fuck,stop. Not appropriate.
Where has all this primal protection shit come from?
