Page 51 of The Longshot

“What’s going on with you, huh?” Coach looks right at me. “What are you groaning about?”

“I’m just ready for practice to be…” I find no sense of peace in carrying out the remainder of my sentence as I stare between both Coach and Alf’s unamused glares. “I’m just wondering what time it is, that’s all.” I change the question.

Alf’s the first to look down at his watch, ready to willingly grant me an answer, but it's Coach who stops him. “Why?” he asks. “Do you have somewhere more important that you’d rather be?”

Anxiety pulses its way through my chest. I know my answer should be, “No, of course not, Coach. Nothing is more important than being with the team right now.” But frankly, that’s not entirely true. Something else is just as important right now, if not more…

“Yeah, actually.” I regret my response the second it escapes my lips, but it’s too late now. I’ve already committed. “I do have somewhere I need to be.”

There’s a brief gap in conversation until Alf’s laughter breaks it. “Well, lookie here.” He peers up at Coach before he meets my eyes. “Let me guess, Wilks, you’ve got a hot date you can’t be late for?”

I sigh in defeat, watching as both Coach and Alf mutually shake their heads in amazement. I can’t blame them. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve used a “date” as an excuse to get out of practice, but with full transparency, it’s the first time I’ve actually been so desperate to be on time.

I have to be.

I can’t let her down.

“It’s important,” I tell them both with a sense of sincerity. “I swear to you that I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t. Please.”

Coach assesses the look of urgency in my eyes, one that I can see reflected back at me through his eyes.

“Please,” I say once more.

He caves, chewing on his cheek as he momentarily peers down at his watch. “It’s half past five,” he tells me. “Slow it down like Alf asked you…” He looks back up. “And I’ll call it. Got it?”

I gulp, nodding my head. Coach can be a hard ass at times, but he’s nothing if not reasonable.

“Got it, Coach.”

Blowing into the whistle, he nods. “Right, boys,” he announces. “From the top!”

“Oi, Green. Hand me your deodorant!” I shout, frantically rushing my way into the changing room, a towel hardly secured around my waist as I try my best not to slip and fall.

“What?” He looks over at me in disgust. “I know we’re close, Wilks, but Christ mate, we’re not that close. Use your own deodorant!”

“Fuck off.” I run another towel through my wet hair. “I would if I could. I accidentally left mine at home. I’ll buy you a new one, I swear. Just let me use it!”

He huffs, rolling his eyes subsequently in frustration, yet tosses me his deodorant stick from across the room.

“Cheers.” I catch it in my hands, quickly rubbing it underneath my arms before I throw it into my duffle bag for safekeeping.

“Want to borrow our fucking underwear as well?” Hart chimes in with a snarkiness in his tone. “Jesus, Wilks, why are you in such a Goddamn hurry?”

I slip my shirt on over my head, searching for my underwear in my bag, one that, if I don’t find, Hart’s not-so-serious offer might actually come to fruition. There’s no way I’m showing up on a first date commando. That’s just asking for it to go terribly wrong.

“I have plans tonight,” I respond, scrummaging through my duffle bag. “Plans that I can’t be late for!”

Not only can I see Green and Hart look between themselves with piqued interest, but so do the other players who pile into the changing room.

“With who?” Green questions with a raise of his brow. “That birdie from the bar the other night?”

“She was fuckin’ fit, mate. You’re lucky you landed her,” Taylor, our team's keeper chimes in, prompting the others to mutually nod their head in agreement.

“No.” I disregard their interest in my love life, finally retrieving my underwear from my bag and slipping it on, in search of my trousers next. “Not her. Hell, I completely forgot she even existed until you just reminded me. I’m going out with someone else. Besides, why do you all care? ”

Hart flashes me a mischievous look. “Why are you so secretive? Usually, you’re the first one to gloat about whoever it is you’re seeing. And now you’re all tight-lipped? What’s that all about?”

The second I pull my trousers up and slip my socks over my feet, I reach for my shoes. I have no time to play these stupid little games despite being the first to instigate them whenever someone shares that they’ve got “big plans”.

---