Page 80 of The Penalty

Ashton had been the biggest football star in England when he was the midfielder for West London. Even though that club was now my biggest rival, I idolized him growing up.

“Having a shitty morning I suppose.” I shrugged, unable to fully shake off what happened last night.

“Get some lunch. Regroup. Have a better afternoon, yeah?” He patted my shoulder and returned to his office.

After showering and changing, I met up with Cade and some other players in the dining hall. One of them was Zach Donovan. I’d sucker punched him a few months ago during a match, leading to my multi-game suspension. We’ve worked things out since, but he eyed my warily.

“Alright.” Cade rubbed his hands together. “I’ve finalized the chateau rental for after the match. Who’s in?”

“Another night of debauchery, Gallagher?” Liam Turner chided, sitting in the remaining empty chair.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

“You’re more likely to score at the party than on the pitch.”

“Care to make it interesting, Turner?” Cade smirked.

I glanced around the table at my teammates. Well, at least for international matches. Liam excelled as a defender in Newcastle. Zach was a superstar at West London United. The other lads were called up from Liverpool, Chelsea, and Brighton.

We don’t train together often but when we do, it sometimes turned into a good-natured battle of egos.

“How about you, Maddox?” Zach addressed me. “How many saves can you guarantee?”

I shot him a warning glance. I knew what he was up to and I didn’t want to take the bait.

“What? Nothing to say? You couldn’t stop mouthing off before our match against you lot. Guaranteed a clean sheet if I recall correctly. Too bad you didn’t last the whole game.”

A hush fell over the group. This was the last fucking thing I needed today.

“I guarantee I’ll make more saves than you,” I retorted, mentally kicking myself for even giving this guy the satisfaction of a lame answer.

“I’m a striker, asshole. I don’t need to save anything.”

Guess the amends we’d made were in name only. Prick.

“Tell that to your reputation,” I snapped. “Driving your fancy Porsche through a store window isn’t a good look.”

Zach stood up, leaned forward and pressed his hands on the table. “You’re one to talk about reputations.”

A sharp whistle cut through the mounting tension. “That’s enough, gents,” Cade said, looking from Zach to me. “We’re all here for the same reason. To get a win in Paris. Nothing else—” he looked pointedly at me “—matters.”

I scowled at my friend. He responded with a knowing head tilt.

Seriously?

Fine. FINE. I’ll be the bigger person.

“Sorry,” I grit out.

Zach’s satisfied smirk doused my annoyance with jet fuel. So much for regrouping and getting my head on straight at lunch. I rubbed a finger over my eyelid to stop it from twitching.

The remainder of our break passed without further incident, aside from Cade and Liam’s spirited jabs at one another. I’d tried not to let my sour mood from last night spill into today’s preparations. Guess I’m failing at that, too.

Once everyone stood up to get back to work, I approached Zach.

“Sorry. Again,” I said, actually meaning it this time. “The Porsche remark was a low blow.”

Zach stared at me with a glint of disbelief in his eyes. “Fair play. Apology accepted.”

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