Page 65 of How to Date a Prince

“I play with friends these days as a goalkeeper.” Thomas shrugs nonchalantly as he slides his hands into his pockets. “But I also played on my university team.”

Colin finally releases us to go get ready for tomorrow. Buzzing, we head off for a tea break before we go down to the equipment store in shifts to get ready.

* * *

At 5:00 p.m., word’s out that the team rosters have been posted in the entry of the grand country house. I make my way to check out the sporting landscape and tomorrow’s fate. Thomas considers the list pinned to the wall. He twists the cap off his water bottle and downs a generous mouthful as he contemplates it. The air is hot and still indoors with the heatwave. Stately homes are not one for mod cons like air-conditioning.

I come to stand beside him. There are two headings: Team Red and Team Blue. At least there’s not an A team and B team like I had in school. Scanning the list, I chew my lip.

Team Red:

Connor

Auggie

Martin

David

Guest

Team Blue:

Thomas

Wilson

Jax

Travis

Guest

“Interesting arrangements,” I say at last, my hands in my pockets. The producers are certainly working an angle. Across the entry with its sweeping staircase, the film crew is wrapping up filming Wilson’s reaction to the team rosters.

“Isn’t it. Let’s go, #TeamThomas. I’m so going to kick your ass.” He gives me a glance, tilting his head back ever so slightly, exposing the long line of his neck. I’d dearly love to trace my way with my tongue to explore his skin and risk some more whisker burn. A heavy feeling settles into my chest. I have to confront him.

Thomas brushes his fingertips with mine, fleetingly, as we stand side to side, so close no one can see.

I arch an eyebrow at him.

He goes back to studying the list. Stupid resolve. What good came of it? But no matter how tempting he is, I shouldn’t give in. Be sensible, I tell myself sternly. Focus on the competition.

“Is that so?” I ask finally.

“Prepare to lose,” he says loudly.

“You should have more faith in yourself, Thomas.”

A smile teases on his lips before he looks sternly at me. “I have all the confidence.”

“Too bad you don’t have all the skills,” I say regretfully, shaking my head. “I guess you can’t have everything.”

He snorts, flicking an eyebrow. It’s all I can do to suppress a smile. “Oh, I can show you skills.”

“Will you? I haven’t the faintest clue about sport, actually. I’m too busy reading about Divine Right in Latin day and night to keep up with sporting these days.” I give him my best demure look.

“Liar.”

---