Page 16 of The Game

How wrong could my teenage self have been?

I hadn't thought about him in that way for nine years, but still, there he was looming large in the changing room, his voice a low and melodic hum that didn't sound like it could call an umpire a fucking idiot. But it could. I wondered how he’d cope with the cameras and interviews after the game? T20 was a spectator sport, and the crowd expected to see their players afterwards.

I didn’t know if they’d want to see him if we lost.

When he finished, I stood awkwardly, adjusting my vest top as he walked aside. I went through some stretches with them all, reminded them of the warm-ups they were to do before the toss was made, and then I slipped away. I wanted to be in the foyer for when my family arrived.

Arrive they did, with the little guy screeching as he pelted towards me. I smiled up at Mum and Dad but noticed Dad's eyes transfixed behind me, his mouth slack around the jaw. At first, I thought he'd suffered a stroke, but when I turned my head slightly to see what had captured his attention I spotted Gemma leading the Hell Cats—the cheerleaders nickname—out through the foyer. I don't think a single man uttered a word as they strolled on by with their long tanned legs striding from under minuscule hot pink skirts. Gemma high-fived me and came to a halt. "Hey, Rivers, how’s it going in there?"

I gave a half-hearted shrug and swallowed down the wave of sick that was eating away with acidity at my insides. Anyone would think it was me playing the game. "I'm just delivering some tickets." I motioned to the envelope in my hand and to my family who were still stood bewildered by the towering beauty at my side.

"The team will do great," she said and started to motion to the girls. "We'll catch up after for a drink, right?"

I looked at my family, and Sammy, his friend and my dad all nodded. Mum didn't look too sure.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flurry of activity and the flash of bulbs. The Lancashire Lion was making his way through the foyer, his tall body encased in the player's tracksuit and his face smiling for the cameras. Two faced arsehole.

"Jase, Jase," a female reporter called, and the Lion stopped and smiled. "Can you answer some questions?" The journalist looked like she was about to come in her pants just from being in such proximity to his six foot something bulk of brooding manliness. I don’t think she could have angled her groin much closer to his without facing the possibility of a restraining order being slapped on her slut-like hips. It made me unexpectedly want to punch her in the face.

"Sure, Elena," he schmoozed back. What, he was on a first name basis with a reporter yet couldn't even call his fitness coach by her name?

Gah. That man.

"Come on guys. I'll help you find your seats before I go down to the stands." I ushered them on and tried to ignore the pinch in my stomach when I saw Sammy's face crumple as he walked past the Lion, but I didn't stop to introduce them.

The seats were good, one of the very limited perks to my job. Right above where I would be sitting with the rest of the coaching team, their spot gave them a direct view of the stumps. The anticipation in the air was palpable. The first game of the tournament was guaranteed to provide a night of entertainment. A group of supporters were singing and chanting, sloshing plastic glasses full of beer as they swayed in time with their words.

"Look at the seats you have, you guys." I nodded with satisfaction as they measured the space between their seats and the pitch.

The little guy flung his arms around my middle and squeezed hard, nearly pushing all the air out of my lungs. "Thank you, Aunty Lyssi." I squeezed him right back and then ruffled his friend Cole's hair. "Enjoy the match, guys. Listen to Nanny and Grandad, and not too much fizzy pop okay? You've got to sleep at some point tonight." It was going to be a late one. The game didn't start until eight, and with forty overs of six balls each, it could take at least a couple of hours. And that didn’t include the midway break so Gemma and her crew could go and shake their thing.

Waving them goodbye, I made my way down the steps, not bothering to head back through the inner corridor of the stadium. Waller would be doing his final speech and that was his bag, not mine. I was here to make sure they were fit, not to give them a pep talk before they entered the stadium. Two rows down from where I'd left the family, a foot stuck out and nearly tripped me down the steps. 'Watch it, Rivers."

I stared in confusion, my brain struggling to make sense of what I saw, but then I squealed as Betsy gave me one of her most sarcastic grins. I almost jumped into her lap. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?" I flung my arms around my friend's neck, her red curls tickling my nose.

"It's my mate’s first game, of course I'm here."

"But shouldn't you be in training for England?"

"Meh, what's one night off?"

These words meant more than anything. Women cricketers didn't take 'one night off'. We couldn't afford to.

I was lost for words, so I just squeezed her until my arms ached. "Anyway, I want to see how that sexist pig plays."

I shushed her with my hand. "Betsy, you can't say that here."

There were already people watching us. I knew the men behind me were leering as I wore what looked like a cheerleader's outfit. I'd opted for the boys training shorts, but the bright pink vest top was all too eye-catching and revealing in the cleavage area.

"I've got to get down there." I motioned to the canopy, pitch side.

"Sure thing." She waved me away before calling me back. "Hey, Alyssa."

"Yep." I turned and shielded my eyes from the late evening sun.

"You look damn hot in that vest," she shouted, loud enough for those around her to hear. A round of applause broke out and with my cheeks blushing I offered the crowd a small bow.

As I worked my way down the rest of the stairs, I spotted the team out on the pitch. Icy eyes under hooded lids were focused on my offensive pink top. I ignored their derisive gaze and went to Waller's side. In truth, there wasn't anything for me to do now; if I'd done my job properly then the game should be in the bag. Knowing this, didn't stop the waves of nervous nausea wash through me as I sat down and gripped my seat, my palms slicking against the smooth plastic. I watched as the coin tossed high in the air and landed on the floor. The golden head of the Lion leant over the coin as the call was made.