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."
I shook my head, and the back of my skull rubbed painfully on the hard grass. "No."
"Because of you, or because of Anthony?" I shot her a warning look when she mentioned my brother's name. "Cause the way I see it, you keep playing for him, but he gave up because he knew there was more to life."
"That's not why I won't quit."
She rolled onto her side and stared at me until I met her gaze.
"It's because I won't let that bastard beat me. Jase Willis never wanted me there, and I can't help but think the last few weeks of him being 'nice' was just another game to him." My pulse raced as I allowed the worry that had been eating me alive for the last few days to come up to the surface and I swallowed hard. I’d been played.
Her eyes didn't waver. "Will you please let me come to practice with you on Monday so I can punch the fucker in the face?"
I laughed again, and one tear squeezed itself out the corner of my eye. "I'd love you to do that, but then I would be fired for once and for all."
"Then you could go on TV and have every man in the country fall at your feet when you discuss playing with balls in that sexy Surrey accent of yours."
"No." My heart beat a little tighter in my chest. "I'm keeping my job, Bets. I'm not leaving."
Betsy peered in a little closer and watched aghast as another tear slid down my face. "Oh my god, do not cry over that arsehole. Please don't cry. He's not worth a single teardrop and he never has been."
My fingers strayed absently to the scar across my eyebrow. "I know."
But I wanted to cry until it felt like my soul was going to crumple and split in half. A half that thought Jase Willis could be anything more, and the half that knew he would be nothing other than what he was.
It was a good weekend, and when I walked into work on Monday I felt a lot lighter. My step was springier, and after a weekend with my best friend I was ready to take them all on. The Lion was on the phone as I walked into the building, but I ignored him and breezed past, telling myself that his words didn't falter when he saw me march past.
Because even if they did, I didn't give a shit.
Waller was happier, and the boys were more cohesive than they'd been the whole season. Everyone was happy, apart from the Lion who stropped about the place like he'd had his paw caught in a hunter’s trap. On Tuesday, we all watched in amazement as he exploded during a team chat and kicked over the waste bin. Waller hauled him off at that point, and we didn't see him again the rest of the day.
The following day he was calmer, but his conversations on the phone continued and he still didn't look at me. I was invisible. The ghost girl.
I wondered how his shoulder would hold up on the Friday match because we hadn't done anything on it for over a week.
I hoped it bloody well hurt like hell.
My fuse was short and snappy. And when I say snappy what I mean is that I wanted to inflict some damage on bare bones. I had the fact Sammy was going to be absent all weekend in the back of my mind. Vanessa's grandparents were picking him up from school and taking him to their house. The term was nearly over for the summer, and this was their last break before they had him for a whole week. I was hoping that he wouldn't tell them about the Lion visiting us at our house, but I'd decided not to mention it to him. Far worse than them finding out the Lion had been more involved in our lives than the papers had made out, would have been Sammy saying ‘Aunty Lyssi told me not to tell you about the man that keeps coming around’.
Gemma gave me 'that' look when I went to get changed for the game. I peeled my vest over my head before turning and asking, "What?"
"Why are you letting him treat you this way?"
I swabbed some deodorant on under my arms. "I'm not letting anyone treat me like anything."
"Rumour has it he announced that you were friends, and then two minutes later completely ignored you."
My eyes rolled heavenward. Was Waller the biggest gossip on the team? Yes, he was.
"I'm past caring." I wiggled out of my training shorts and into my uniform chinos.
"So you don't care that all the boys are going out tomorrow for his birthday?"
I gave a minuscule shake of my head. "No." I hadn't even known it was his birthday coming up, not even when we were in the short-lived friend zone.
I tried to forget all about it, but as I sat watching him bowl his way through the opposition all I could think was that I hoped the fucker sprouted new grey hairs in the morning.
Another empty Saturday awaited me and this time I knew Betsy wasn't going to magically appear. She was back on the team. Her punishment paid for her vajayjay indiscretion. I called my mum and dad in Spain and chatted with them about, well nothing, and then went for a run.
The run wasn't enough. At the end, despite the sweat and the ache in my limbs, I still felt coiled like a spring. I went straight into some yoga, working my ashtanga poses until I was near to passing out. I was in the bath, pushing my nine o’clock bedtime past a comfortable threshold when my mobile rang. I ignored it and continued soaking my screaming muscles.
Then it rang again.
Slopping water all over the bathroom floor, I reached for it.
Willis.
My stomach lurched into a tight ball.
He was probably drunk and ringing to tell me to get off his team. I pressed decline, but before I could get back in the bath, it rang again.
Trying not to drop the handset as I stepped out of the bath I clicked on the green button. "What?" I snapped.
"Lyssi?" he sounded far away, music was pounding in the background and cheers were drowning out whatever he was saying to me down the line.
"I can't hear you; call me tomorrow if you want." I wasn't sure I wanted him too but I said it all the same.
"No," his word was barked out and caught my attention. "Can you come and get me? I need help."
"What? Where are you?"
When he told me, I groaned. "Are you for real?"
He didn't answer my question but instead asked if I could help. I blew out a gust of air.
The Lancashire Lion would be the end of me, I just knew it.
"You stink." I glared at him as he fell into the car and lamely attempted to pull the seat belt across his chest. It pinged back and forth repeatedly as he fumbled with the buckle. He looked like a man I didn't know in a black shirt and jeans, with tan leather boots. He smelt of alcohol and cheap perfume.
Whose perfume, I didn't want to know.
"I'm sorry."
"You should be," I fired straight back. "I've driven for forty minutes into the centre of London for you." I jabbed my finger into his chest.
His head rolled against the headrest. "Can we just go home?"
"I don't know where you live."
Opening one eye he blinked at me. "Not my home, yours."
And then he fell asleep, and I cruised the car through the dark streets of London back to the leafy green of Surrey, cursing the whole damn way there.
He slept the whole way, snoring like a locomotive. It wasn't the most attractive thing he'd ever done.
"Oi," I shouted, loud enough my lungs hurt. "We’re home."
He sat up with a start. "Where's Sammy?"
"What?" I twisted in my seat taking in the confused expression slashed across his face.
"Where's Sammy?"
"Well he's not here, is he? He's at his grandparents. Did you think I was going to get him out of bed to come and get you? Why would you think that?"
His fingers grabbed for mine. "I'm sorry."
Holy crap did the Lion just tell me he was sorry? He must be drunk.
"Come on, let's get you a coffee and I'll call you a cab."
'No." He frowned. "Stay here." What? Was he going all Neanderthal now?
"Okay, coffee and then we will see how you feel."
We were up to the house my arm around his waist when he whispered into my ear, his breath hot on my neck. "You know I'm not drunk."
I glanced up at him in the darkness, my eyes searching his face. "Sure you’re not."
He shook his head, his brows knitting together, and a purposeful hand slid down my back. "Not that drunk."
"Sure thing, Hot Shot. Come on, I'll put the kettle on."
In the kitchen, I glared at him. "What the hell were you doing at a strip club, Willis? Seriously." I ran a frustrated hand through my knotted hair. It had dried into twists after my unsuccessful bath.
"It wasn't my idea."
"No?" I wasn’t sure I could believe this. "What was your idea?"
He glared at me from across the kitchen. "You don't want to know."
"I can assure you that right now I would love to know anything you are thinking. Or even if you think at all." My cheeks were burning a livid red and my eyes tingling.
"No." He folded his arms across his chest.
This conversation felt like it was going nowhere. But the sting of him ignoring me the last couple of weeks wasn't going just to evaporate because he was back, leant against my kitchen counter.
"I hate you." There it was out.
"And I hate you," he retaliated without an apparent thought.
I flung two cups out onto the counter top and started making our coffee.
He crept up behind me and ran a hand down my shoulder. "It was Anderson's idea. And do you know what Rivers? I thought it would be good, I thought it would help me."
My stomach coiled with his words. I was repulsed. "Help you with what?” I spat. What did you get, a dance? A private show?"
"No!"
"Why?" I fired straight back at him causing his eyes to blink in surprise.
A frown flickered across his face. "I can't tell you."
A fire burned through my veins. "I can't believe you lied that we were friends. That hurt, you bloody bastard.”
His hand clenched around my wrist and bound it tight to his side. "Stop."
"No."
His eyes delved into mine. "Please, just stop." His words punched a deep ache within the pit of my stomach.
I pulled away and reached for the kettle splashing hot water into the mugs.
"Rivers." My name came out of his mouth like a low choke. "Can I take a shower? I hate how I smell."
I nodded, unable to look at him. “Sure, you know where it is. I'll organise you a cab."
"Thank you." His curt response sliced through the air.
He walked away, heading to the guest suite and a burning rage like none I'd ever experienced before flourished through my veins. The boiler kicked in and I knew he was in the shower and as I flung my dirty crockery from my evening meal into the sink a splash of spite built inside me. He went to a strip club? I mean I knew we were nothing to each other, but still, how could he call me from a strip club?
I switched the hot water on at the kitchen sink and then turned it off again.
I then repeated it for a good two minutes until his shouts filtered through the floorboards. I always hated it when Sammy ran the tap when I was in the shower—payback was sweet.
When his shouts got louder, I went up to the bathroom and innocently opened the door. He was behind the frosted glass, but I could still make out the long length of his limbs. “What?” I asked feigning innocence.
"Hey, Rivers come here," he poked his head around the glass when he heard my sniggering.
I stepped forward. "What?"
His hand snaked around my wrist as quick as lightning and I shrieked in surprise as he pulled me into the shower with all my clothes on.
"Is there something funny?" His warm body pressed against my clothes.
The water from the power jet rushed over my face, spurting in my mouth and I spat it out as fast as it flooded in. "What?" I couldn't say anything else because his mouth crashed into mine. Claiming me, owning me, his lips demanding as they forced my own open and he pressed his naked body against my soaked clothes. His tongue entwined with mine, dancing and teasing as our teeth clashed and he tied me in closer to his naked skin, his hands anchoring onto my hips and giving me no space to move, no room to fight against him.
"Jonathan." I never expected his real name, the name that only I knew, to fall out of my mouth but when it did, it felt so right, so natural, it couldn't have been any other way.
His eyes sparked at mine, water droplets falling from his eyelashes and splashing against his nose and the tanned skin of his cheeks.
His name from my mouth acted like an adrenaline shot. He shoved me against the wall of the shower, my shoulders hitting the tiles. His tongue ran along my bottom lip, scooping up water as he trailed a burning blaze of heat along the outline of my mouth. I shuddered as he dropped his mouth to my throat, pulling the skin into his mouth, and sucking hard enough I knew I'd bruise. A dark heat built within me. "Lyssi," my name was a low murmur that delved to the very pit of my being.
I wanted to stop him. I'd only picked him up from a strip club an hour before, but his skin was burning through my clothes, setting fire to my entire being like a spark to dry tinder. My fingers ran along his skin, tracing the rivulets and curves that created his unique physique. I dropped my hand to his waist and guided it forwards until I was smoothing a path to the cock I felt pressing against my waist. He caught my hand, pulling it away from the smooth skin of his shaft. I couldn't even bring myself to be surprised by the size of his length or the width. There was nothing discreet about this golden-haired man. The man that was now dropping to his knees under the spray of the shower and working the elastic of my tracksuit pants over my hips.
"Stop." I tried to push his head away, but his fingers were insistent as they skimmed my trousers down my legs. “Jase,” I tried again, my fingers tugging at his hair, but he batted them away.
"No," he growled.
I wanted to fight him, but the heat of his hands and the jet of the water felt like it was slowly taking me apart, melting my resistance until there was nothing but the faintest memory of it left. He yanked my trousers down to my ankles then pulled them roughly from my feet, leaving me in my drenched cotton briefs. And then his mouth was there, sucking through the material as his stiff fingers edged my knees apart, and I shivered into his face as a guttural groan tore from deep within me.
His fingers slipped under the sodden material, his thumb brushing against my core and I shifted my hips so he could gain easy access.
My god, I wanted his tongue in places I'd never imagined he’d be.
And he didn't hold back. My knickers were down and his mouth buried on me, sucking, and pulling until my knees were quaking and I was dropping my weight onto his face as his fingers began to tease me wide open.
"Shit," I gasped, my mouth pooling with water from the shower, and my hand clutching his hair as he probed and licked until I was on the verge of senselessness. Turning his hand he rubbed the pad of his middle finger deep within me, caressing a spot that I never knew existed, and I cried a sobbing gulp as a shudder wracked through me, and I clenched my thighs tight around his head.
I'd just come over the Lancashire Lion's face.
I didn't think there was any coming back from that.