Page 126 of The Thing About My Rival

“It’s Dylan practicing guitar. Loudly. And don’t try to change the subject. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“When every one of our players on that pitch stood still and folded their arms, I was fucking furious.” Just thinking about it again tightens my chest. “I wanted to run out there and smash their heads together. I mean, we were on a roll. A place in the playoffs was possible.”

“Buuuut…?” Tom drums his fingertips together under his chin.

I am not about to admit to anyone, even Tom, that after I’d yelled at them a few times, Wilcox’s voice popped into my head.

Not just her voice, also her face—her beautiful face with those three freckles on her nose, and the gold sparks in her eyes, and those lips that feel so delicious on mine that just thinking about them makes my mouth water.

I could hear her sayingthat doing the right thing is more important than winning. That being united is the way we win, that standing together is the way we win, that looking after each other, appreciating each other, and respecting each other is the way we win.

“Sure, yeah,” I say. “Wilcox would have said it was theright thing to do. That if all the players are united in something, we should support them. But so what?”

“Hmmm.” Tom’s suspicious. “Well, when I was watching, all I could think about was that the league might fine the players. Or you. Or the club. Or all of you. Or that the Commoners might even be thrown out of the league, or at least suspended for next season. And that all the hard work you’d done to restore your reputation might be flushed down the toilet with that one decision to stand with them.”

“It’s nice that your first concern was for me. And I guess mine usually would have been too. But it felt like a risk worth taking.” Not just for the players, but also for Wilcox.

She was so disappointed in me on Friday. So hurt when she really believed I was the same type of selfish dick as the father who looked down on her and her beliefs and skills. She might not want me, but I couldn’t have her think even worse of me. It was a chance to redeem myself in her eyes.

But apart from all that, it was the right thing to do. In the seconds I had to make the decision, I felt it deep in my bones.

“And, anyway, all the replays show that the Orlando defender should have been sent off. The players’ and coaches’ unions have already issued statements saying they back us for standing up for player safety and good rule enforcement.”

“What about the Fab Four? Aren’t they pissed off you threw the game away?”

“Couldn’t be happier. The publicity is possibly even better than if we’d won. Huge sponsors are already calling with big offers for next season. And Leo was over themoon because his new private jet company flew us home and most of the photos of us all walking down the stairs show the name on the side of the plane.”

I take another swig of beer. “Miller, Chase and Oliver are gunning for the ref. They’ve called for an inquiry—they want him struck off or dewhistled or whatever it is you do to a referee. And the marketing team’s already working on shirts and hats that sayThe Spirit of the CommonersorThere’s No Team Like a Commoners Team, or something.”

“And how’s Bakari?”

“It’s a break. A bad one. But he’s young and fit and will heal eventually.”

“Unlike you, huh?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I wasn’t just talking about your knee injury.” He tips his head to one side. “Don’t you wish you had Drew to talk all this through with?”

More than anything in the fucking world. I’ve checked my phone a thousand times since the end of the match. Started a message to her, then deleted it, a thousand times.

I shrug. “Makes no difference. I’ve got you, mate, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same as talking to the love of your life about things.”

I pull a big shocked face. “Are you saying you think Wilcox is the love of my life?”

“I’m saying that you’ve never dated anyone for more than five minutes before. And this was what,weeks?”

“Now you’re taking the piss, you sarcastic wanker.”

“I’m not. I’m serious. Relatively speaking,weeksis huge for you.”

“Okay, fair point.” I swallow more beer along with my pride.

“I know I only met her for a few minutes that night in Paris,” Tom says. “And not under the, er, best of circumstances.”

“Please stop reminding me.”

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