Page 6 of Kick Out of It

He follows my line of sight. My gaze catches on Keith, and I try to look away, but his eyes are unmistakably molten. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, but my breathing still decides to take a hiatus. For a brief moment, I feel as if I’m in the middle of a romantic comedy movie.

Is he going to rush over here and punch Ronan in the face?

Real life slaps me in the face as Ronan’s voice pulls me from Keith’s intense eye-fuck. “Whose number are you wearing?”

Leo turns to show off O’Leary and number nine on the back. A proud smile splits Ronan’s face, then Leo throws me under the fucking bus. “My mom says she’s not allowed to have favourites. I can, though.”

“If it’s okay with your mum, we’ll have to get you a proper kit.” Ronan inspects Leo’s shirt that isn’t one you typically buy in stores; it’s tagless and cotton. A boyish grin splits Ronan’s face. “Actually, I think you have the right idea with this one. It looks softer than mine. Want to trade?”

Leo excitedly gasps, ready to trade shirts as if they’d fit. Ronan’s a good man, but I can’t get Leo’s hopes up that he'll stick around more than this interaction; it would destroy Leo. “Yes, well, we best get checked in at the hotel. See you around Ronan.”

Disappointment paints Ronan’s features, and I begin to rudely turn Leo towards the exit, but a pang in my gut has me rooted in place. Leo looks up to Ronan and if we only have this one evening with him, I shouldn’t throw away my son’s one chance to talk to his idol.

He asked you to have a drink with him…

Instead of putting one foot in front of the other and sprinting away, I blow out a long breath, and offer, “If you haven’t eaten, you can come with us?”

“Can he, Mom?” Leo pleads, forgetting Ronan offered in the first place. What I wouldn’t give to have my child’s selective memory.

“That’s up to him.”

Ronan’s smile meets his eyes, unphased by all of it. “I’d love to. I’ll grab my luggage and meet you wherever you’d like. What sounds good? My treat.”

“Oh, we couldn’t?—”

“I insist. Message me with where you’d like to go, and I’ll be a few minutes behind you. You mentioned a hotel. Isn’t your flat ready?”

“No,” I shake my head, and hope Leo doesn’t catch on that Ronan knows more than I’ve let on.

Ronan’s lip tilts up. “Instead of a hotel, you can stay with?—”

“We’ll check in at the hotel,” I quickly speak over him. “I’ll message you with the address to a restaurant nearby.”

“Perfect. See you in a bit, Nora.” Ronan winks,actually winksat me. “You too, Leo.”

He turns to leave and Leo mocks, “See you in a bit, Nora.”

“Leo,” I grit out, “mind yourself. I’ll need to interview him in a few days, maybe even tomorrow. You and I need to be on our best behaviour.” His face falls. “I’m sorry, peanut. I know he’s your favourite, but I’m not supposed to be friends with players.”

“I know, I know,” he grumbles. “It ‘disrupts the integrity.’ But how do you know him? I think he was asking you on a date. He looked at you the way Dad did.”

My heart tugs at the mention of his father. “He wasn’t. We’re just friends.”

“But you said you can’t be friends with players!”

Since the day Leo was born, I’ve never lied to him. Omit pieces of truth? Occasionally. But never lie. As we wait for a taxi, and with the rest of the footballers long gone, I admit the truth that Ronan and I have been talking for a while now, emphasising how it started as purely professional, but we’re now friends. However, I keep the fact that Ronan has flirted with me relentlessly this past month to myself.

I’m grateful Leo and Ronan didn’t see Keith looking at me as if I were some sort of sex buffet. Or how he appeared to be a moment away from rushing over to snap Ronan’s neck. Having to explain my ex after our long day of travel is the last thing I want to do—to Ronan or Leo.

“So, now that we’re here, do I call you ‘Mum,’ or…”

“If you’d like.” I shrug, thankful for the change of topic. Being brought up in New York, he never picked up on my accent and I’ve always been ‘Mom.’ “So, what sounds good? We can go toour hotel to drop off our luggage, and wait for Ronan? There should be a cafe or a pub open nearby.”

Leo excitedly nods and we take a taxi to the hotel. He loves staying in them, whereas I prefer being home. Our new flat will be ready in the morning. It may only be one night, but I already miss sleeping in a bed that’s my own.

With travel and the time difference, I’m bloody exhausted, and the last thing I want to do is have tea or a pint with an incredibly attractive footballer. I’d cancel on Ronan, but I’m sure it would break Leo’s heart. Between our hotel stays the past few nights, and meeting his football hero, it’s been one of his best weeks he’s had since losing his father, and I’d give just about anything to keep the smiles coming.

Even if it means socialising publicly with a man I absolutely should not be friends with.

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