Page 11 of We'll Meet Again

“Tony,” she said timidly as she stepped into the office. Remembering herself, she squared her shoulders. “Tony, could I speak to you a moment?”

He didn’t look up from his laptop, his fingers clattering over the keys. “If you must.”

She cleared her throat and approached his desk. Behind it was a large window overlooking the pitch, and she could see the team lining up for their warm ups while a kit man laid some cones out for drills. Billie straightened up even further, remembering Tessa’s words to her.You’ve never let a man talk down to you in your whole life, why should he be any different?Drawing on her courage, Billie spoke up.

“I felt… undervalued yesterday when you had me take Ethan Knight to his flat,” she began. “And when you referred to me as ‘nonessential.’ Playing tour guide isn’t exactly my job description. I do hope my work is sufficiently -”

“Let me stop you there, Billie,” he cut her off, holding up a dismissive finger while his eyes continued to scan the screen.

“Alright,” she replied, swallowing her nerves. Had she crossed a line already?

“You are my assistant,” he said, and only then did he finally stop typing and meet her gaze. “Yourjobis to do as I tell you. A job which - may I remind you - I only gave you as a favor to your sister for our time together in law school, not because you’re qualified to work for a football club.” He closed his laptop and narrowed his eyes at her, his lips drawing into a tight line. “And my job certainly does not entail catering to your stupid fucking feelings, is that clear?”

She blinked back the sudden sting in her eyes as she nodded. A dozen responses should have formed in her mind, but it was totally blank. She was so thrown off by what he said, like he’d punched her, knocked her to the floor, and then kicked her in the ribs for good measure. Three harsh, debilitating blows in a matter of seconds. And how could she reply? There was no reasoning with a man who had just laid out in exact terms that he did not care in the slightest about how his words affected her.

“Is that all?” he asked.

Her chest grew tight and she desperately wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. “Yes, sir.”

“Then get back to work,” he said shortly.

She didn’t need telling twice. Turning on her heel, she swept out of the office, a lump the size of a boulder forming in her throat. She couldn’t return to her desk if she was going to cry, there was no privacy there. So instead, she slipped down the back stairwell, yanking open the door to the boot room. Unfortunately, she was not alone. The other kit boy was there, innocently doing his job and putting boots away. He froze when she entered, a look of confusion coming over his face. He looked at his watch, then glanced around as if checking he was where he was supposed to be. Her withering gaze made the poor kid recoil.

“Get out,” she said coolly.

“Alright,” he replied, and scurried out the door.

As soon as she heard it close, she clapped both hands over her mouth to stifle the sob that had been threatening to escape for the last five minutes. She went over the interaction with Tony again in her mind. Over and over, cursing herself for freezing up the way she had. Wishing she had been bolder, braver. But she was so shocked. He was always abrasive, but didn’t that cross a line? Why hadn’t she spoken up for herself? Why did she obey when he dismissed her? She had just given him the upper hand without so much as a whimper of complaint.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away hastily. She tried to take a breath, but it stuttered in her chest. A few more tears leaked out, and she let those fall freely. She was alone, after all. And in the boot room no less. No one would be coming in here anytime -

Click.

The door swung open. Billie whirled around, preparing to dismiss the kit boy again, but stopped short when she found it was not the kit boy at all. It was Ethan, dressed for training except for his boots. He stood there with his pleasant face and his warm demeanor, instantly infuriating her all over again. She practically slapped away the wetness on her cheeks, refusing to allow him to see her so vulnerable. He glanced at the label on the door.

“No, I’m definitely in the right place,” he said. He shot her a questioning look. “They cleaning your office or something?”

“I was just…” she trailed off, racking her brain for a lie, but drawing a blank. “I needed some fresh air.”

“Not sure the boot room is the best place for that,” he said. “Smells like…well, dirty shoes.” He searched her face, and his brow furrowed. “You alright?”

“Fine,” she lied. “Just…allergies.”

“What’re you allergic to?”

“Shellfish,” she answered hollowly. And it wasn’t technically a lie.

“I see,” he said, his brows retreating back up his forehead. “They are a real problem this time of year.”

A hint of a smile passed over her mouth, but she quickly buried it. She would not allow him to charm her.

“You won’t find any of those critters in the boot room, though,” he went on. He paused for a beat. “We call ‘em cleats in the States. Don’t know why. Boots is a much nicer word. Cleats sounds like a disease or someth-”

“Is there something you want?” she said sharply. “I’d like to…deal with my allergies in peace.”

“I was actually looking for Craig,” he said.

“Who?”

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