Page 27 of The Longshot

I’m encouraged to ask until I’m reminded that I still haven’t answered her question. I attempt to speak, but I’m cut short.

“Oi, Wilks!” Someone calls out, driving Chelsie’s eyes away from mine and in the direction where the voice came from. “Give her a snog, will ya!”

Shit.

For a second, I forgot that the lads were watching. Now, I wish they weren’t, especially given that as I follow her gaze, I can see Green slapping one of the boys, who called out in the chest, attempting to settle him down.

The other players have evidently caught up to Green, Hart, and I’s early departure…

“Do you uh—know them?” Chelsie asks, staring into my eyes for reassurance.

I shift my body so that she's out of their direct line of view. I’m unsure if it’s an action to help shield her from their belligerent remarks, given that I could’ve sworn someone just shouted, “Show us your tits!” Or it’s to soothe the troubling emotion that courses through me.

There’s something about the way they’re looking her up and down that pisses me off beyond measure. I can’t explain it. All I can do is grind my teeth as I respond. “Unfortunately. They’re my teammates,” I explain. “So, it's kind of like when you have a family. You don’t get to pick them, you know?”

Somehow, she laughs.

Fuck, what a sound.

“So you play football?” She narrows in her curious stare, pointing a delicate finger in my direction. “Is that right?”

All of a sudden, I get tongue-tied… again, just like I did the moment we first met. She has this effect on me—making the one thing I’m most confident in talking about the thing I feel the most nervous sharing.

“Yeah.” I nod agreeably, removing my hands from my pockets and rubbing them together. “I play for Crawfield. The local football club. I’m their uh—captain.”

“Captain?” She juts out her bottom lip, impressed. “You don’t say.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “You seem surprised.” I’m taken aback by her willingness to entertain this conversation, but thanking my lucky stars she is.

“Maybe a little,” she speaks through a smile. “I’m just wondering how you manage a team if you can’t manage a cake?”

I scoff in laughter. “Are we really back to that? Was I really that memorable?”

She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Fine. I’ll drop it… just like you dropped the cake.”

This time, I can’t help but burst into laughter—only prompting her to do the same.

“Alright, alright, I’ll give you that one. That one was good.”

Her cheeks light up as the tensity in her shoulders lessens. There’s something oddly comforting to know that I’m a part of the reason.

“So, where are you all heading?” she probes, visibly intrigued by the group.

“To celebrate,” I explain. “We had a big game today, and not to brag…” I lean in close. “I was the reason we won. I’m kind of a big deal around here.”

There’s that cocky side to me coming out, one she disregards with a roll of those perfect blue eyes.

“The lads and I are heading up the road for some pints at Tenners. Care to join us?”

I’m hopeful she’ll say yes, given the interest I can see written all over her face. Only the interest slowly starts to fade as she peers back around me, taking into account the group that keeps on growing as the rest of the team catches up, bracing me for her answer.

“I don’t know.” She clears her throat and rubs along her arms. “I appreciate the gesture, the offer, but it’s okay. I’m okay.”

She’s trying her best to let me down as easily as she can. I know she is.

“As usual…” She kicks some gravel beneath her shoe. “I had another long day at work. So I’m probably just gonna head home.”

As if the lads pick up on her refusal to join, they all begin to shout, only solidifying her decision that much more. “Any girl you want, eh, Wilks? Doesn’t quite look like it, mate.”

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