Page 22 of The Alternate Captain
“No.” My voice comes out weird, so I clear my throat.
“You okay?” Mike asks.
I nod this time. But I can tell he’s not convinced. He gives me a look that I can’t read, but not wanting to give him the opportunity to press any further, I change the subject.
“What’s up anyway?” I ask, trying to push things along. I doubt he came solely for an update. He could have texted me that.
He absentmindedly picks up a tin of sweetcorn and rolls it in his hands. “We got asked to confirm our ticket requests for the weekend. I told them I need an extra two: one for Mam and Dad, and one for you and Tom, I guess?”
“This weekend?”
“Yes. You promised me, remember?” He sets the tin down amongst the peas and frowns at me.
“Promised?”
“Okay, so you didn’t promise, but I said I’d be pissed, and I will be. C’mon, Kel. Mam and Dad are making an effort, and it’ll be nice to have people cheering me on.”
“You’ll have an entire block of fans cheering you on.” I step down and replace the sweetcorn, pushing the bitterness towards our parents away. They always attend Mike’s big events, but never attend anything for me. “Are you making Stacey go?”
Mike scrunches his nose. “Nah, she’ll insist on bringing that clown.” That’s one thing Mike and I both agree on at least—our sister’s fiancé is a dick. “C’mon, Kel... I’ll even let you have the better seats for the semifinal.”
I know what he’s doing. In case they don’t make it to the final, I’ll at least have got to see him play up close.
“Go away. I’m working.” I swat the air as if I’m shooing away a fly.
He doesn’t let up. He follows me around the shop floor while I work, nagging me every single step of the way. I enter the aisle leading to the back room, hoping he won’t follow me. But before I reach the double swing doors, I’m distracted by a tall figure facing slightly away from me.
Shit. Is that...?
My mouth dries and my whole body buzzes with nerves. My brain screams at me to get the hell out of here.
“Kel? Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, of course I am. I’m just thinking,” I lie, stepping around Mike so I can get a better view of Johnny. I try to act casual as I flick my focus between Mike and the figure behind him.
Johnny adjusts himself so I can see his profile. I’m surprised to see that he’s got a beard. It looks thick, but it’s neat for what I can only assume is a playoff special. The complete opposite of the bird’s nest taking over Mike’s face.
Even from this angle, I can see the familiarity in the photos I’d spent so long examining, which is obvious, I guess since they were his pictures. A strong jaw, broad chest that fills the suit he’s wearing, and my knees quiver a little when he smiles.
I must force myself to remember that this person isn’tJohn. I was talking to the alternate captain, and this is very much the real, fully-fledged captain that could get any woman in the world.
Johnny is standing next to the main entrance, talking to a woman who flicks her hair and giggles as he speaks. He hands her a pen and notebook, and she bursts into laughter, catching Mike’s attention.
“Oh my God. I can’t go anywhere with him, honestly. J—”
“Okay, I’ll come,” I say, cutting Mike off and reaching for his arm.
I can’t bring myself to stand face-to-face with Johnny. I’ve never met him before, and Mike will probably introduce me,and I’ll turn into the colour of a beetroot and probably keel over and die of embarrassment.
“Really?” Mike asks.
“Yes. But I need to get on.”
I hear him call out that he’ll text me tomorrow as I disappear into the back room. Without hesitation, I walk towards the freezer door, closing it behind me, and sit on a box of chicken nuggets nearby.
This is all too much. Every presentation I’ve seen of Johnny has reinforced one thing—I was catfished. The real Johnny has a presence about him; he stands tall, and carries himself with confidence. But his expression stayed stony and guarded, probably as cold as this freezer.
I finish my wallowing, then I head back out to the shop floor, tentatively checking outside the swing doors before stepping out.
