Page 69 of Unwritten Rules
TATE: Yeah, look, I don’t think he’ll appreciate it one bit.
SIN: Yeah, maybe not. Was a nice try though, right?
TATE: The best. And if you really want to see me, I can find you after the game before Dad is ready to leave. With all the media stuff he has to do afterwards, we’ll have plenty of time alone.
Sinnett smirks, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth.
SIN: Tate, are you suggesting we have time to make out in my car?
TATE: Those are your words, not mine.
SIN: Well, consider it a date then.
Dad’s voice filtering across the room tears my attention away from the flirty text messages and the racing of my heart. I slipmy phone into my pocket and watch as the team shares a last-minute pep talk with Dad before getting ready to head out to the field for kickoff.
I stay as close to the corner of the room as possible, knowing the sheds are being broadcast on TV, showing the team making their way out to the field. Their team song blasts through the speakers around the field, followed by the deafening cheers of the fans. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sound, and even now, with this being my fourth game, I still get a flutter in my chest watching the team run out through the tunnel.
By the time I make my way to the Wolves’ staffing team and benched players on the sideline, Sinnett is already seated with them, watching intently as the game gets underway.
Settling down on a free chair, I do my best to watch the game, keeping my focus on Ryder as he finds himself in some intense tackles. He doesn’t seem to be favouring his shoulder, so it must be holding up all right for now. I jot down some details on the notepad I keep in my pocket, wanting to see him for a more intensive session next week just to be sure nothing is wrong.
By the time the clock nears forty minutes, half-time on the horizon, my leg bounces with anticipation of seeing Sinnett after the game. He might be sitting ten metres away from me, but it’s not the same as when we’re alone.
The more time we spend together, the closer I am to seeing the real him. Even now, I’ve learned from our late-night drives around North Sydney that he can’t stand tomatoes or mushrooms, he and Khai would sneak out of class in high school to kick a football around the oval because they wanted to practice their skills as much as possible, and his favourite part of the day is watching the sun rise.
I’ve shared details about myself, but I can’t bring myself to mention my mum in much detail. It’s been on the tip of my tongue numerous times, but I could never get it over the line. Iwant to talk about her, to keep her memory alive, but maybe I’m not ready yet to share that part of me with Sinnett.
We don’t speak every time we go for a drive; sometimes we’ll sit in silence and listen to the playlist I curated. If I’m too tired to hold a conversation, and Sinnett has other things on his mind, we’ll get lost in the music with his hand on my thigh and drive for what feels like hours. It’s calming in a way, having a quiet support system that is comforting and familiar. And now I crave it whenever I’m stressed or need company that isn’t my father.
The whistle blows for half-time, and I exhale the breath I was holding. As the Raiders and Wolves leave the field, the score sitting at 8-2 with the Wolves in the lead, I hang back and wait. Sinnett leaves with the rest of the team, a knowing twinkle in his ocean eyes as he passes by with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.
Oh, yeah. We’re so on for a make-out session after the game.
A presence behind me has my spine straightening. Whoever it is doesn’t speak, so I spin on my heels to face them. A woman I don’t recognise stands at eye level, her honey irises filled with a fire I can only describe as annoyance. She gives me a once-over before tilting her head to the side, pom poms hanging limp by her hips.
“You’re the new physio, right?”
I swallow hard, eyes sweeping over the curled brown hair sitting just above her shoulders, and the perfectly applied makeup to her sharp and stunning features. She’s dressed in the Wolves cheerleading uniform of black leather mini-shorts, a long-sleeved black and red crop top, with toned calves hidden beneath fishnet stockings and skin-tight knee-high boots.
Behind her, I spot Raya in the same uniform, watching us with a worried expression. She’s standing with the rest of the cheerleaders, likely getting ready for their half-timeperformance. But even as some of the other girls try to talk to her, Raya keeps her attention on us.
“I am,” I squeeze out, and clear my throat. “And you are…?”
“Zoe,” she bites, mildly offended I don’t know who she is. “So, you work with the team?”
Oh, shit. This is the same Zoe who has the complicated history with Sinnett, and who Raya warned me to stay away from. How I managed to avoid her until a month into the job is beyond me, but maybe that goes to show how little she cares about the staff members.
But now the question becomes: why is she talking to me?
I nod. “Yes, I do.”
“So that means you work with Sin?”
Oh, God. Where is this going?
“Yeah, I’m helping him through the recovery process of his injury,” I tell her, not wanting to give her too much information as it’s private doctor-patient confidentiality.
Zoe folds her arms over her chest, giving me another once-over. It’s clear by her posture and the way her lip curls upward that she would rather be anywhere else than talking to me, but she has a hidden agenda that keeps her rooted to the spot in front of me.
