Page 52 of The Longshot

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“I wonder who it is?” Green jumps back in, looking up in thought. “Is it that gymnast you were seeing? Or that Instagram model from a while back? Oh wait, maybe it’s that blondie who rejected you last week. Did she finally give you another chance?”

He hits the nail on the head, prompting me to halt in place.

Huge mistake.

Now, my stiff posture and silence is only that much more of an indicator that Green has guessed correctly…

“No way,” Hart laughs in delight. “Did you really manage to swing her? Fuck me…” he groans out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “I mean it. Tell her that I’d love her to?—”

“Shut the fuck up!” I shout, switching to tie the lace to my other shoe, yet they don’t. They just keep on going.

“Lads,” Green commands the attention of the room. “Listen up. When I tell you that this birdie was a solid ten, I’m not kidding. Even from across the street, you could see just how big her tits?—”

I clutch onto the collar of Green's jersey, pulling him in. “I said, shut the fuck up,” I grumble beneath my breath. “Got it?”

The changing room falls silent until I release Green’s shirt, and he stumbles back. “Relax, boyo,” he scoffs, raising both hands in defense. “We’re just messing about. Take it easy.”

“Yeah,” Hart agrees. “You need to calm down. No one wants to go on a date with something that snaps at the slightest thing. Get your shit together.”

I shoot them both daggering death glares. They both become the absolute worst combination in the very few instances that they decide to gang up on me and not each other.

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, shaking myself out of this mood as I secure my duffle bag over my shoulder and charge my way towards the exit.

“Have a good night, mate.” Green continues to test the waters, a playful yet suggestive look in his eyes.

“Yeah, we can’t wait to hear all about it,” Hart adds, prompting me to bite down on my tongue as I walk out of the changing room, hearing a series of snickers from the group as I fade into the distance.

I guess now I can finally understand why Coach got so heated that one time he caught us all gossiping about Delaney post-practice. Maybe this is karma coming back to bite me in the ass for instigating that.

I secure my bag over my shoulder once more, brushing the thought aside as I continue to race my way out to the car park. Once I reach the tarmac, I search for my car keys, all the while quickly checking my phone for the time.

6:45 PM.

Practice ended up going till six, and what can I say? Time escaped me once I got in the shower. That’s okay, though. I know I can still make it. Fifteen minutes is more than enough time.

I make a bee-line towards my car, a few yards away, when my name gets called out. “Wilks!” the voice shouts enthusiastically and with a southern twang.

Delaney.

“Hey.” She eagerly smiles in my direction once I turn my head to face her. “Would you mind helping me with some of these boxes?” she requests, waving me over. “They’re for a giveaway next week. I was going to package all the prizes up here, but I thought, why not just take them home and package them up there instead? Warren was helping me, but he had to run back inside to grab his briefcase. So, what do you say? Care to help a pregnant lady out?”

I relax my tense shoulders, momentarily staring down at my phone to assess the time yet again.

6:48 PM.

Shit. Why is time moving so fast?

I can’t be late, but Coach will kill me if he finds out that I didn’t help Delaney. Hell, it would haunt me all night if I knew I’d left her high and dry when she needed me.

I assess the boxes surrounding her. There can’t be more than ten, and if I’m quick, this should take me no longer than two minutes.

This is possible.

I can do this.

I flash her a quick smile. “Sure thing, Delaney.” I waste no time in briskly jogging across the car park and to her side. “Let me get those for you.”

---