Page 46 of The Game

I ducked out of the changing room and looked down the hallways. He was on the phone, which I'd never seen before, not ever. "It's not good enough," he was growling as he pulled at clumps of golden hair making it stand on end. "I need to know soon."

I'm not sure if he sensed me behind him, but he turned his head and the icy gaze he sent in my direction sent a shiver down my spine. He didn't smile. He didn't do anything. In fact, he did nothing at all.

The game was a success. Well, we won which was always a good thing. The Lion managed to not injure anyone as he came off the field, which was also a success. On Saturday morning I waited to see if he would turn up. He didn’t. The worst bit was admitting to myself that it hurt—it hurt like hell.

I rattled around the house because Sammy was staying at his friend Cole's house, so I spent a lot of time focusing on fluffing cushions and changing bedding. I even vacuumed, despite the fact Maria had clearly done it the day before. I'd completed a five-mile jog and was making a smoothie when the doorbell rang.

Shit, if my heart didn't claw its way up my throat.

He'd realised he was being a dick and had come to say sorry and that my friendship meant more than anything.

As I opened the door I tried hard not to look disappointed because he wasn’t there.

But Betsy was, ready to tell me I was a dick for thinking he could be anything different.

We were sprawled on a picnic blanket, sunning ourselves under the oppressive July heat that hung in the air like a heavily laden balloon. I had my eyes closed, and my body was softening with every passing breath as my one and only friend lay by my side and put my life into perspective.

"Let me get this right." She shifted onto her elbow and stared at me hard.

I sighed and scrunched my eyes tight, despite the fact they were already shut. "Again?" I asked. I'd already told her everything, twice. I didn't see how telling her again would make anything different.

"I'm just trying to get my head around this. So Jase Willis has been hanging here every Saturday: making coffee, doing laundry," she paused. "I mean, fuck, Lyssa, the Lancashire Lion has been rifling through your dirty smalls."

I waved my hand. "It wasn't like that. The laundry was just the once, and I think it was just him trying to prove he had nothing better to do with his time."

She made a "Humph," sound. "Smelling your knickers more like."

I opened my eyes. "That's disgusting, and you know it."

"And then," her words pitched an octave. "And then, last week, he stayed over. I mean, he stayed over here?" Her disbelief was obvious.

"Yes. I told you, there was a storm."

"And he didn't make a move? You didn't kiss, shag, whatever?"

"No!" I sighed, but was mortified when my eyes prickled with tears. "I already told you, it was innocent, but our short-lived friendship is over, clearly..." The words got caught in my throat. "Clearly, he's not an honourable kind of guy." I blinked up at the brilliant blue sky, squinting at a wisp of cloud.

"Ugh, Lyssa, you knew this, you knew he wasn't honourable."

I shrugged as much as I could lying on my back. "Can we change the subject?"

"Sure, what to?" I knew full well there was no way she would keep the subject on a different course for long.

"Why aren't you playing today?" There was a beat of silence. "Betsy?"

"Ugh, I got benched okay?"

I twisted my neck to see her better. "Why? What did you do?"

She groaned and shielded her eyes with her folded arm. "I got cross and threw a wide ball. It hit another girl in her you know what."

I laughed, loudly. "You hit another girl in her vajayjay?"

"Well," she grumbled. "If she'd been running faster it would have been her hip, which is what I was aiming for."

I snorted loudly, and giggles racked my body. Shit, I couldn't even remember the last time I’d laughed so hard. I was sure it was before I took this job that was slowly killing any love I had for cricket.

Betsy—just as she had since we were sixteen and had met at a youth camp where she'd stemmed the blood spouting from my eyebrow with the back of her hand—read my mind. "Okay, I'm going to say it. You know, you're hot, attractive, intelligent. There isn't a sports show in the country that wouldn't want you as a pundit. Why don't you do that, instead of all this training shit? It would still be a stable job for Sammy."