Page 17 of The Thing About My Rival

“Now you sound like my mother. Seriously,what? I called you for moral support, not riddles.”

Silence blares through the line.

It’s followed by a groan. “Oh my good God. You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” Tom lets out a horrified laugh. “Holy shit, this is bad. Even byyourstandards.”

“What’s bad? What the fuck are you on about?”

“You don’t remember the party after the final?”

“Er.” I try to spin my mind back to however I was drowning my sorrows after the tournament. “Maybe. Were we at a nightclub?”

“Yeah. And you were drunk and picked up a girl.”

I straighten and take in the clear blue sky. “So?”

“And you were up to no good with her in the janitor’s closet when the door flew open and you fell out.”

“That does ring a bell, vaguely. But what the fuck does it have to do with anyth?—”

When people say their blood runs cold, I always thought it was just a figure of speech. Until now. Until this very moment when it feels like I have a slushy coursing through my veins.

“Oh…” The inside of my head swims and I stumble back inside, hitting my toe on the threshold. But it doesn’t hurt. I’m already in too much shock to feel any pain.

I lurch toward the enormous sofa and grab onto it tosteady myself before dropping my backside onto the cushion. “Are you saying that was…?”

“There we go.”

“Fuuuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally. You were passed out, propped up against the wall, so I called my driver to take her back to her hotel. And while we were waiting, I had to kill time chatting to the poor woman. She was mortified. Obviously.”

“Christ.” I drop my head into my hands.

“She told me her name was Drew Wilcox. And that she was coaching for Dijon FCO. Then when the new coaching lineup for the US women’s team was announced a few years ago, I remembered her. Which is clearly more than you did.”

“So I’ve shagged Drew Wilcox?” Hearing those words come out of my mouth is as horrifying as the moment in a scary movie when they finally show you the monster.

Her arse does look phenomenal in those leggings, though. And her nose freckles are cute. And there is something hot about the way she looks at me like I’m a useless prick. So I could see why I might have wanted to.

“No idea. But when you fell out of the closet, your pants were undone. And I know that because I had to do them up for you. Don’t ever say I’m not your best friend.”

“Shit, so not only do I have to share this job and the office, and not only do I have to crush her to keep the only chance I have to get my career going again, but this person I have to crush has seen Mr. Happy?”

“If it’s any consolation, she was very nice. And I apologized on your and Mr. Happy’s behalf.”

“Fuck.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

DREW

“Not like that, Wilcox.” Hugo’s voice booms across the training field, and all the players turn to look at me.

I drop the stack of orange cones onto the turf with a thud. Is he seriously going to argue about how I’m setting them out for dribble practice?

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