Page 22 of Once Upon A Player
Katie eats a few chips, but I’m not fooled that the subject is closed. She takes a sip of her cola before narrowing her eyes at me. “Look. I don’t know anything about footballers, only what you’ve told me. And the only one you’ve ever told me about is Geoff fuck-face, who I always thought was a real prick even before he did the dirty on you. What am I supposed to think?”
“I know. But Lucas is so easy to get along with. He’s different from when he’s on the TV.” Huh, I hadn’t even thought about that before, but it’s true. When he’s interviewed, he always looks sexy, even if he’s all sweaty straight from the pitch, but he never says anything that has any depth.
Not that we’ve ever had a deep philosophical discussion, but in real life, he’s not nearly as superficial as he comes across on the screen.
Is anyone?
Since I don’t have an answer for that, I decide to ignore it.
“If you say so.” She picks up another chip. “Have you kissed him yet?”
“Did you miss thefriendsthing?”
“No, but you’re still doing theglowingthing.”
I decide to ignore that, too. Especially since I’m starting to obsess about kissing him. What about a friendly birthday kiss?
Bad idea. And then it hits me.
“Crap.”
“What?”
“It’s his birthday. What the hell am I going to get him?”
Katie doesn’t look fazed by my mini-meltdown. “Why d’you need to get him anything? You’re not dating.”
“Not helping.”
“Well, I don’t know. What do you get the guy who has everything?”
“Stillnot helping.”
“Guys are so hard to buy for. It’d be easy if you were going out with him. You could just put on some badass underwear and wrap yourself up in a big bow.”
“Um…” Words fail, as all I can see is Lucas unwrapping me as his special birthday treat.Definitelynot happening.
“What about some kind of footbally thingy?”
“Do you haveanyidea what you’re talking about?”
“Nope.” Katie pops the last chip in her mouth. “Aren’t you glad you asked me for some ideas?”
Chapter Eight
Violet
It’s not a date.But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t make the most of it, and so in honor of the occasion, I bought new black jeans and a cute summer top. I might’ve also splashed out and got an adorable pair of strappy sandals.
When I get downstairs, Dad’s hovering at the front room door, and I know what’s coming. “I’ll phone you at eight.”
It’s no good arguing with him. When I told him, and Mum, I was seeing Lucas tonight, they obviously didn’t believe my insistence that it wasn’t a date. Then again, I’m crappy at keeping secrets, and I’m sure Mum’s already guessed how much I like him. “Okay.”
“You tell Lucas, ‘that’s my stepdad,’ and if there’s any problem, you call me Pete when you answer the phone.”
I can’t help myself. “Honestly, Dad. Lucas isn’t a crazy serial killer.”
“Humor me.”
