Page 22 of The Game

"Betsy, he may be missing breasts and a vagina that would make him attractive to you, but he is hot, let's not lie."

She snorted. "Jase Willis is old and craggy, way too old for you."

I don't need to count the number on my fingers. It's eleven. Eleven years too old for me.

"Anyway," she carried on. "Hasn't he been married twice? I mean seriously, Lyssa this guy is a loser of the first order.”

I scrunched my face at the ceiling. "I don't think you become a worldwide star cricket player and a national treasure by being a loser of the first order."

"Has he been Knighted by the Queen? Nope, didn't think so. Has he got an MBE for services to the sport or whatever it is people get? Nope. Has he been slandered more times than I can count in the papers for drunken behaviour and liaisons with women of ill-repute? Yes, yes he has."

"But..." I stopped myself. I didn't know why I was trying to defend him. He was rude, arrogant and he hated me. That was three reasons alone. Then of course there were all the old newspaper headlines that seemed to flash up inside my head, like they were highlighted in neon, more than I would like. "So what am I supposed to do, just let him wreck a game because he's a pig ignorant bastard? Wait for his arm to fall off or whatever it is it's going to do? Or worse, wait for me to get the blame and lose my job all because when it comes down to it he's the famous captain and I'm just, well, me."

There was a beat of silence. "Well, babe, not being funny but aren't you his fitness coach, aren't you supposed to help fix it?”

Betsy's words floored me. I'd never considered the prospect of trying to help him. It was laughable. The thought of that frozen glare as he stared at me in disdain if I offered to help had my stomach twisted in knots, which wasn't that great considering I'd already completed various extended yoga twists in a bid to settle my muddled mind. "He wouldn't want my help," I said, more to myself than her. I could already visualise the disdain with which he would rebuff my offer and his accompanying lip curl. It made my cooling skin shiver.

"Probably not," she agreed. "Listen, babe, I've gotta go. Chat in a couple of days, yeah?"

"Yeah sure, Sammy will be in soon anyway."

"Is he still having nightmares?"

"Without fail."

"And you?" Her question was said in earnest, but I couldn't face talking about my emotions with any level of sensibility.

"Constantly and all about that idiot Jase Willis."

Betsy chuckled and wished me a goodnight and that she hoped the bed bugs or bogey monster wouldn't bite. Laughing, I hung up and turned over to find Sammy standing by the bed.

"Bad dream again, little guy?" I pulled back the duvet and wiggled over to make space.

He nodded and crept into the bed and I wrapped my arms as tight around him as I possibly could. If I could hug away my problems, then I was going to do it right there and then.

After training the next day, I spent time packing away all the equipment. Waller still hadn't spoken to me about the enormous elephant in the room, or on the field, wherever you'd rather the elephant sat. The weather was so hot and clammy, my skin drenched through my sensible T-shirt. The one I'd been so pleased with a few days earlier because it didn't allow my cleavage to fall out at every opportunity, was now clinging to me in all the wrong places. I pulled my hair back up from my neck and wound it into a bun on the top of my head, yanking at the strands until they resembled a wild bird's nest. I'd have to keep my eyes scanned for passing feathered friends, but I couldn't be bothered by vanity. What was the point when you were sweating like a flogged beast?

I was expecting the team to be in the changing rooms, gas-bagging away like a group of old women as usual after practice but instead there was only one person in there.

"Oh," I said. My trainers squeaked to a stop, and I nearly toppled over on the tiled floor. That would have been embarrassing enough, but my knees trembled and clanged together which made the situation far worse. If I hadn’t spoken I could have backed out without him knowing I was there.

Tanned curved back muscles met my gaze along with slim hips wrapped in a white towel. Don't look. Shit.

"Oh,' he said back without turning around. He was such a sarcastic bastard.

I expected him to gather his stuff and march off, as that was the norm whenever we were unaccountably left alone together. Well, it had only happened once, but he'd made his feelings on being alone with me adequately clear. Or to tell me to get lost—now that wouldn't have surprised me at all. Instead, I clamped my lips into a tight line so I couldn't gawk as he turned around and faced me, his hands coming to rest on his hips.

Don't bloody look, Lyssa. Don't you dare.

I looked. I peeked a glance at the deep grooves of his torso...and at his legs, my eyes trained down to where they dripped water from under the towel. Where was that water coming from? I blushed right there and then.

"Can I help, Rivers?"

"Uh."

No. I had nothing. Like nothing at all between my ears, just empty air because in the space where I used to have a brain was just looped words. Chest, chest, chest. Legs, legs, legs. Water, water, water.

I shook my head, removing some of the fuddled fog and decided to do it. Man the hell up and do it. We had a game the following night, and winning was more important to me than everything, well, nearly everything. "Listen, Jason." I couldn't bring myself to call him Jase, and although I had the word Lion looming there on my subconscious, it was probably best not to call him that to his face. His ego was big enough already. "I know you don't like me, for whatever reason," I didn't give him a gap to tell me all the many reasons why he didn't like me. "But I am here to help the team...to help you...I guess." He just stared at me with those evaluating eyes and my cheeks flamed with a steady tinge of heat that I couldn't soothe. "So if you want help with your, uh," his eyes narrowed, so I inserted, "shoulder," instead of the 'injury' I'd planned to say. "Then just let me know." He didn't say a word just kept staring at me, his hands on the damp towel around his hips. I blabbered on. "I just wanted to, uh, put that out there."