Page 18 of Playing the Field
Ignoring my irritation at the presumption that he has any idea what I might like, I can’t help replying, ‘Is that where you take all the girls?’
He laughs. ‘On the contrary, most of them want the whole world to know they’re going on a date with me.’
Which pulls me off my high horse and makes me feel a bit sorry for him. I guess it goes with the territory when he’s usually out with models and reality stars, but it must be hard never knowing if someone wants to date you because of who you are rather than how much publicity you can bring them. Not that this would have been a date, of course.
‘I thought it would be a good choice given that you don’t seem to want anyone to see us together,’ Ben says as he reaches across and pushes open the passenger door. He looks at me expectantly. ‘So are you coming?’
It feels too awkward to say no now the door’s hanging open, so with a sigh I tell myself just one drink will be tolerable. I can put my misgivings on hold so long as I think of it as something I’m doing for the possible benefit of the team. At least if the pub is as empty as he says it will be, I don’t have to worry about getting spotted by anyone.
I fire off a quick text to Phoebs as he pulls away from the kerb, to let her know Dad thinks I’m at hers.‘Just in case he asks how our revision night went next time you’re round,’I type.
‘OMG are you shagging one of the players already?’she writes back.‘Unbelievable. You haven’t even introduced me to them yet.’
This makes me laugh.‘Nooo, nothing like that. I’ll explain later, okay?’
‘This better be good,’she replies.
I know she’ll think it’s worth missing another study night for.
‘Everything okay?’ Ben asks. ‘Something to do with the change of plan?’
‘Just my best friend jumping to the wrong conclusion as always,’ I tell him. And then, for reasons I can’t explain– perhaps because I still can’t quite believe I’m on my way to a pub with a Premier League footballer for a casual chat about our mutual love of the game– I’m hit by a sudden attack of honesty. ‘She thought I must be hooking up with someone from the team.’
‘Would you?’ he asks.
‘No! That would be so inappropriate.’
‘You’ve come out with me.’
‘You’re not part of Crawford. And we’re not about to hook up.’
‘I’ll ring ahead and cancel the candles.’ I whip my head round to look at him, but he’s grinning. ‘I’m just kidding. But I could be part of Crawford... if you let me help coach the team. I meant what I said before, you know– I’ve got plenty of time on my hands.’
I study his face while he’s concentrating on the road and try to picture what it would be like to have him at training every week. From a purely aesthetic perspective, I can’t say I’d find it too hard to get used to. There is the slight matter of why he’s not currently playing at Millford to be considered though.
‘I can suggest it to the others, but I don’t know what they’ll say,’ I tell him. They’re well aware of his reputation, so I can hardly imagine them welcoming him with open arms.
Ben doesn’t seem to have any such qualms though. ‘I think they’ll say, “See you on Thursday,”’ he replies with a self-assuredness it’s hard not be drawn to.
He eventually pulls up in front of a small pub on a residential street that looks like it used to be someone’s front room. Inside, there’s a row of men sitting on stools in front of the bar and I’d say their average age is well over sixty. They don’t seem remotely interested in his arrival, which, I guess, is exactly why Ben comes here. It certainly isn’t for the decor. The walls don’t appear to have been painted for several decades. There’s a lot of burgundy. It’s not what I was expecting.
‘They don’t play music so it doesn’t appeal to anyone else under the age of thirty,’ Ben explains. ‘But the beer’s good and the landlady’s a friend of my dad’s– and you can always get a seat.’ He nods towards the two empty tables on either side of the room.
‘All right, Ben, pint of the usual?’ the landlady asks from behind the bar. When he gives her the thumbs up, she adds, ‘And for you, love?’
‘I’ll take the same,’ I confirm.
This gets a nod of approval. ‘I’ll bring ’em over. You choose yourselves a spot.’
‘Don’t say I don’t take you to all the best places,’ Ben jokes as he holds out a rickety chair for me, which wobbles ominously when I sit on it. ‘Oh, and maybe don’t go to the loo until you get home, unless you’re desperate. They’re a bit—’ He crinkles his nose up.
‘Oi, I heard that,’ the landlady interrupts as she puts our drinks down on the table. ‘You might be used to all that fancy stuff now, but don’t ever forget where you came from.’
‘As if you’d let me.’ Ben grins up at her. ‘And anyway, you know I love it here really.’
She huffs and walks away.
‘So, where were we?’ Ben asks, turning back to face me.
