Page 121 of Just One Season
I don’t want this to be it. I want to do this again, and again.
But Lucy’s already pushed me away.
“We probably shouldn’t have done that,” she says, her face as serious as I’ve seen it.
“I’m glad we did.”
But she doesn’t respond, only reaches down to pull up her underwear, then watches me as I reach for her.
“We should get back,” Lucy says, leaning away.
I lead her back to the ballroom. She doesn’t let me hold her hand in the hallway.
The DJ is about to start the countdown to midnight. I hope she’ll let me kiss her then, but she slips away to her friends, and Ijoin Lachlan with the rest of the boys. Some of them have clearly had too much to drink and will regret it tomorrow when Coach Jackson kicks their asses.
But not me.
I’m not drunk. I’m in love.
CHAPTER 35
Dream Job
LUCY
Wednesday, January 8
“London is amazing.” I moan and take in the view of the city from the twentieth-floor wine bar.
“Yes, ma’am, it sure is. Cheers.” January holds out her glass and clinks mine. “To an amazing interview, and you moving to England.”
“Don’t jinx it, sis.” I sip my dark red wine and enjoy the warmth it offers me. “But can you stay here too? I’ll be so mad if I show up and you peace out a month later.”
“I’ve thought about it. I do enjoy London.” January rolls her shoulders back. “But I don’t think I’ll be here forever.”
“Alright, ladies?” The bartender returns, showing off his gorgeous English accent. He refills our wine glasses from the bottle of Malbec on the bar.
“Thanks, Andrew,” January coos.
“So how do we know the bartender’s name?” I whisper when he walks to the other end of the bar to serve a group of men in suits.
January shrugs and flicks her hairout of her face.
“I have to keep busy somehow, don’t I?”
We both giggle, and then a voice calls out from the entrance to the bar.
“Hello, ladies!”
“Stella!” January waves her friend over to us.
“You must be one of the best friends January is always talking about.” Stella, a pretty, smiling woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, grins at me warmly and slides onto the bar stool next to January.
“I’m Lucy,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well.”
“Stella and I met through a work project,” January says, nodding her head to her friend. “She’s American but has lived in London for a decade. And is married to an ex-pro rugby player.”
