Page 59 of Trying Sophie

Chapter Sixteen

Declan

“Okay, this is it lads,” I called out

“We got this!” our right wing, Eoin McGrath, hollered back as we took our positions and the rest of the team lined up for the scrum.

Tonight was his first start and he was amped up and ready to go every single play no matter where we were on the field. I remembered having that same sort of wide-eyed enthusiasm and hoped it stayed with him for a long, long time.

I stared down the field and located the clock. Two minutes to go and we were only up by two points. If we caused a penalty, the Falcons would take control of the ball and force us to defend. We needed to play perfect rugby for the next 120 seconds. No penalties, no turnovers. But if we managed to move the ball another 10 meters I’d be in scoring range.

“Crouch,” the ref directed, and one by one our props, hooker, flankers, and finally our number eight man took their positions.

“Bind!” Arms firmly secured around each other, the men created a tunnel for Aidan Quark, our scrum half, to put the ball in play.

“Set,” came the ref’s final instruction.

And go.

Steam swirled around the heaving, grunting bodies as my teammates fought to push our opponents back while our hooker, Liam Donnelly, maneuvered the ball down the pack with his feet for Aiden to get his hands on it so we could drive it down the pitch.

Three rucks later, with only half a minute left on the clock, the goal line was in reach. Aidan scooped up the ball and with two hands moving across the front of his body, flung a bullet-like spiral back to me. Catching it, I scanned the field in one quick view. Eoin was closed off, but there, just ahead was the gap I needed. I faked a tricky one-handed pass to our inside center, tucked the ball in tight against me, side-stepped to the left, and broke through a wall of defenders. I felt their hands grab at me, try to hold onto the back of my jersey and bring me down, but I dug in deep, pumped my legs for all I was worth … and ten strides later dove across the goal line.

TRY!

The crowd was on its feet, the roar of our fans deafening as their shouts reverberated through the stadium, the stomping, cheering, and chanting music to my ears.

But I wasn’t done yet. I placed the ball in its position on the blue tee as the noise from the crowd dimmed to near silence. In the distance, I heard a siren wail as it whizzed past the stadium while the wind and rain whipped at my face. I drowned it all out until the only thing in my head was the steady beating of my heart. I knelt down, picked a few blades of grass, and tossed them in the air to check the direction and velocity of the wind. Taking a deep breath, I set my position, took two strides, and my foot connected with the ball, sending it sailing up and over the crossbar as the clock showed eighty minutes.

Match over!

The team engulfed me in a mass of sweaty, hard bodies as hands slapped my back and the top of my head. We’d won. Thank Christ.

* * *

“You coming out, Dec?” Aidan asked when his head popped out the top of his shirt.

I set my foot on the bench and leaned down to tie my shoe, wincing when I felt a tight pinch in my ribs, the result of a deadly tackle I’d taken just before halftime. When I’d realized there was no reasonable path through the defense, nor a clear toss to my teammates, I’d done a quick chip kick to send the ball flying over their heads, juked around them, and chased it down before they’d had a chance to recalibrate their defensive positioning. Getting there before anyone else, I’d picked it up and ran a few meters until I was crushed between two Welsh players and brought down with a grunt and a hard thud. It’d taken me a couple of seconds longer than normal to catch my breath, get back on my feet, and rejoin the play as it continued down field.

I probed the spot that hurt the worst and felt a warning tenderness all over my right side. When I’d gone into the showers, the skin around my ribs had been red and mottled, but then again, so was the rest of my body. Hell, so were all of our bodies after a punishing match like the one we’d just played.

“Nah, I’m gonna head on home. I took a beating.”

“Come on man, you could find some bird to make you feel better.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

I was sure I could, and I wouldn’t even have to work for it tonight, wouldn’t need to care if she came or not. While I could stand to ease some of my tension, the idea of sex with someone who only wanted to fuck me so she could brag to all her friends left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Yeah, I’m gonna leave that up to you. I’m not sure I’d be much use to anyone tonight,” I said, pointing at my side.

Eoin sauntered in from the showers with a towel draped loosely around his hips. He dropped it in front of his locker and strutted my way, completely naked and unashamed. Putting his hand on my shoulder he said, “That’s okay old man. More for me.” With his other hand he grabbed his crotch, laughed like a maniac, and strolled away.

At 21, Eoin was a cocky little shit but he had the goods to back it up, both on and off the field. He’d played a tremendous game tonight, his first start in a senior match, and he’d been unstoppable. His star was on the rise and he knew it.

Like rugby, he’d taken to the women that came with it like a fish to water. Sometimes I worried he liked the perks of being a famous rugger a little too much, but so far he’d been able to balance his appetite for sex with his commitment to our sport so who was I to judge? It’s not like I hadn’t gone overboard myself a time or two when I’d been his age.

Shit. I sounded like the old man Eoin accused me of being.

The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m., completely restless and filled with nervous energy, which was weird since normally I slept like the dead following a match. I had my routine down: wake up around half-nine, shower, and then meet up with the lads for brunch.

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