Page 1 of Not Falling for the Forward
Prologue
4 Years ago:
Drunk driver ends superstar Jack Cartwright's career.
In the early hours of Friday 23rd January, Premier League Striker, Jack Cartwright, was involved in a head-on collision killing two. Jack was photographed by an eyewitness at the scene.See photo attached. He is said to have been unconscious as paramedics loaded him onto an ambulance stretcher. No one has heard from the 25-year-old Manchester City player in the days since and we have been reaching out to sources from the team to gain an insight of how bad the injury may be. He has been notably absent from all training sessions since the accident. We can’t help but wonder if this means he will be hanging his boots up for good. Let us know in the comments what you think is happening with the beloved footballer.
Chapter one
Emily
“I think we should see other people.”
“Absolutely not.” I laugh into my phone speaker, “That’s the worst one.”
“I think I’m going to have to ghost him,” Jessica, my best friend, says on the other end of the line. We’ve been having this back and forth for a while now, trying to come up with the best way to let her current ‘fuck buddy’ down lightly. So far, I have Vetoed: ‘It’s not you, it’s me’, ‘You deserve better’, and my personal favourite, ‘I need to focus on my career’.
“You can’t ghost him; you’ve been seeing him for three months. He is literally in love with you.” I cringe internally thinking about the poor guy. By the sounds of things, he had taken Jess to a lovely dinner, fucked her brains out, then just before they fell asleep, he whispered those three words in her ear. Jess was gone before he woke up and now I am somehow involved in breaking this guy’s heart.
Jess groans on the other end of the line, “See this is why I don’t go back for seconds.” Ahh yes, Jess’s philosophy on men, enjoy them once, maybe twice, but never as much as she has with this guy. I think this might be her longest relationship. I honestly thought it was aturning point for her, like she’d finally seen the light and wanted to get off those horrific dating apps. Like she’d had enough of constantly having to justify herself to strangers on the Internet if she was ‘too loud’ or ‘told too many jokes’. Although I might just be projecting my own experience of them on to her. I hate online dating with a passion. Thankfully, I found my fiancé through a mutual friend, eight years ago, and I could say goodbye to all those apps before they really took off.
“Yes, Jess. But you said the dick was too good to throw away and now you’ve let this guy fall for you.”
“I told him what we were from the start!”
“Well, clearly he didn’t listen and now you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.”
“Eugh! I hate the consequences of my own actions,” she grumbles.
“Me too, babe. Now buckle up and let me know how it goes. I have to go, they’re coming out to warm up.”
“Okay, love you. Take pictures of Jack Cartwright’s thighs for me if you get chance.”
“Love you too, pervert.” I giggle and hang up, putting my phone in my pocket as I watch the football players of both teams fan out on to the pitch and begin their stretches.
“Everything okay?” I hear from the seat to my left as my colleague, Gemma, leans in to learn the new gossip. She knows all about Jess and her escapades from me venting to her about them. Being in her mid-sixties, she grew up in the era of sex, drugs and rock and roll, she’s had one hell of a life and that means she gives the best advice.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just Jess making men fall in love with her again,” I reply with a smile, just as my phone starts to go wild again, vibrating in my pocket.
“Can’t blame them, she is gorgeous.”
“That is true,” I agree and pull out my phone. “Sorry, will you excuse me, this must be her again,” I say. With a roll of my eyes I make my way towards the pitch, not wanting any early members of the crowd to hear the very unprofessional conversation I am about to have with my best friend.
I unlock my phone, and I am greeted with sixteenInstagramnotifications.Not Jess then. She would know not to call me now I am on shift but, her breakdowns are exclusively reserved forWhatsApp. I don’t know if that’s because she signed some form of deal with them or it’s just personal preference. With her it could be either.
I open the app and see the little unopened message symbol on my requested messages.
Weird.
Probably a fake brand trying to offer me a fake deal. Although, what they would want with a private account with a meagre one hundred and twenty-six followers, I don’t know. Hopefully, it’s a foreign prince wants to give me all his money in exchange for my bank details!
Sarah Graham has sent you a message request.
Odd, but I recognise the name as one of my partner’s co-workers. Why would someone from his work be messaging me onInstagram? Has something happened to him whilst he’s working overtime today? My pulse quickens as I internally invent all the things that may have happened to him for someone to feel the need reach out to me whilst I’m on shift.
I quickly accept and open the message.
Ice coats my veins as I read the first line.
