Page 23 of King of Hearts

This was unchartered territory which made me oddly uneasy and yet abnormally curious. Arna was like a puzzle without instructions, and I was hell bent on figuring her out. I felt compelled to havehercomplete this feature because, for the first time, I believed the words written wouldn’t be coated in condescension or peppered with sly falsities which, like grains of sand, infiltrated people’s thoughts and damaged my reputation.

Readers never wanted to know about the success of the Hearts or my contributions to the team. They were hungry for information on how many women I had slept with, when I was planning on settling down or why I had never had a long-term girlfriend.

Ironically, they were the reason. Abominations.

Choosing to play football for a high-profile club meant you lost your right to anonymity. You lost your right to grabbing an early morning coffee without fear of being photographed. You lost your right to serendipitously meeting new people without having to wonder if it was truly by chance or premeditated. You lost your right to freedom, sometimes even in your own space.

I often wondered ifthiswas what I always wanted, especially on the days when people told me I was the luckiest bastard they’d met. Or when I wasn’t allowed to dislike the media or intrusive strangers, because I was ‘living the dream’. Always uttered from someone with no experience of what it was like to be afforded no privacy.

Yet tonight, I was sitting in a public place with someone who, six months ago, I would have hated on sight, and I was enjoying myself.

“I’ll have the eye fillet please - medium - and a gin and tonic. Thank you, Dale.” Arna said, closing her menu and turning to me. I had been so lost in my thoughts that my own menu still sat untouched.

“Sounds good, I’ll have the same. Cheers, mate.”

Dale nodded and took our menus before retreating.

“Pup did well with him.” I said, tipping my head towards the direction he disappeared, and Arna’s chuckle gave me pause.

“Sorry,” she apologised. “It’s just he has the same puppy-dog eyes as Kieran and I’m ashamed to say I can see how the nickname came to fruition.”

“See,” I said, nodding enthusiastically at the mirth in her eyes. “Dale is studying law and works here most nights. Pretty busy life for a young kid. He has a good head on his shoulders.”

“I could say the same about you. I’m sure you’ve had a similar schedule since you were his age. When did –”

The sound of a phone ringing cut her off and she reached into her purse before glancing at the screen. “Sorry, it’s my dad, do you mind if I answer?”

“Not at all.” I was strangely interested to hear her have a conversation with someone who wasn’t me.

Smiling gratefully, she answered. “Hey Dad, how are –,” she paused abruptly, staring at the table as she listened. “Dad, it’s May. Christmas is more than six months away.” She rolled her eyes, mouthing an apology to me. I shook my head in understanding, a smile forming on my face.

“I’m at a work dinner, Dad. Let me think ab–,” again she stopped, turning away slightly. The soft murmurings of her voice were a cute attempt, but I could still hear her. “Yes, I’m with him now. I’ll call you later.” She hung up, looking mortified and I couldn’t control my grin.

“Andy, I’msosorry. My Dad is outrageous sometimes. He called to ask what I wanted for Christmas. It’s MAY! The man starts shopping earlier and earlier every year and he buys gifts for like three people. Anyway, what were we talking about?” She ran a hand down her long ponytail, pulling it over her shoulder.

“You’ve told your dad about this interview?” I asked, a small smile still lingering. Of everything she just explained, I fixated on the possibility of her thinking about me after hours.

Suddenly, I wanted to be the interviewer. I wanted to know everything there was to know about this woman with the crystal blue eyes and the dad who did his Christmas shopping at the end of May. I wanted to know what she ate for breakfast, her favourite song and the sounds she made when she was lost in the throes of pleasure.

Shit. I reached for my drink, needing a distraction from where my traitorous mind was headed.

“You heard that part, huh?” She asked, shaking her head.

I nodded, my grin again growing. “I did and now I have some questions of my own, so I think until our food gets here, I’ll ask the questions and then I will tell you whatever it is you need.”

She groaned, but acquiesced. “Okay, Andy Gloss, what do you want to know?” She leaned back, unknowingly drawing my attention to her chest and the way her white shirt pulled taut. It seemed we could also add perfect tits to everything she had on her side. Clearing my throat and ignoring the twitch in my pants at the thought of how supple they would feel under my touch, I focused on her face.

“Tell me about your family. Siblings, where you grew up, weird aunts and uncles?” I shrugged, pausing when Dale appeared placing our drinks down and signalled for him to keep them flowing.

Slowly, she raised her glass, her eyes locked on my own as she seductively took a long sip.

“I’m certain this is not how it’s meant to go, but fine, I’ll play along.” She turned her body towards me, brought one of her legs up onto the booth and rested her hand on her ankle. For some reason, the relaxed stance took me by surprise. Leaning back, I was suddenly aware that there was something innately comforting about this conversation, and I was very much eager to hear her tell me more.

By the time we finished our meals I knew more about Arna than I did about any other woman besides my mother. At no point did I reach for my phone. I was entirely focused on her; everything she said, the way her mouth moved and especially when she took the slice of orange from the side of her glass and sucked it between her full lips. An image I would most likely be replaying later tonight, only substituting that orange for something else.

I laughed easily when she spoke about her father and how he wrote his Christmas list each February, stuck it to the fridge and checked it daily as if anyone else would dare change it. Her resounding giggle, which tinkered around the empty glasses on our table, was the best sound in the world and I leaned in desperate to hear more. She mentioned her best friend Marlee, how they’d been inseparable since they were kids and how she was a huge fan of the Hearts, which was one of the few things they apparently did not have in common.

Other than clarifying what a couple of words meant, I felt no need to interfere. She was the most intriguing person I had ever met, and I never wanted her to stop talking. She made no secret of the fact that she had little interest in my role with the Hearts, other than for the purpose of this interview, and all the while I couldn’t look away. I was captivated.

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