Page 37 of The Wing
Liam swipes a quick finger over my frown until he smoothes it out. “I’m fine, it’s just a shock catching it. It’s like the hiking. Doesn’t really hurt, but it’s a shock to the system when I’m used to my cave.”
“Okay, but if it does hurt, you have to tell me.” I wait for his agreement and walk back to my place. Not that I’m going to continue throwing as hard when he’s already said it hurts, even if it wasn’t in so many words. I’m not here to play professionally. I’m here to have fun. And it’s working. I’m not jeopardising that by hurting someone I lo—I freeze getting into position.
Did…did I actually just think that?
I glance at Liam who’s rearranging the ball in his hands, carefully attempting to hold it correctly, who’s out here helping me even though he’d rather be reading or writing, and I swallow down emotion. It’s too early for that. No matter how I might feel.
It’s only been nine days.
I shake my head. No matter what I feel for Liam, I refuse to hurt him, even if it’s more natural to throw hard after years of training.
“Ready?” Liam asks.
I nod, bouncing on my toes. “Come at me.” I catch the ball, and I’m off.
We continue throwing the ball back and forth until Liam’s shoved up his sleeves and sweat drips down my back. It’s notlike we’ve been that physical, but jogging up and down the garden has felt like a workout.
I managed to convince Liam to run with me while throwing the ball back and forth, and he caught it more than he dropped it. I didn’t drop the ball once.
We switched jogging around the garden, throwing the ball between us, with Liam passing it to me, and I’d race to the fence as if it were a real-life scenario and I was aiming for the try line.
I stopped thinking about my shoulder. I focused on throwing the ball with less force, catching it, and scoring imaginary tries.
I didn’t think it would build confidence, but it did. The more I did it without worrying about my shoulder and focused on not hurting Liam, the better I got. I felt more secure catching the ball, had less fumbles, and aimed better passes to Liam.
If all I needed to get over myself was playing a fun game with no expectations, I would have made Charlie let me throw balls at her while she shrieked and then ran away with the ball to score her own imaginary tries.
Being here with Liam is comfortable. I don’t feel judged or stressed about the game. I can catch the ball and move. Can take a moment to collect myself when I don’t catch it correctly or aren’t happy with how I threw it. Hopefully, it will translate to the game. I’m cautiously optimistic in his garden, hands red and stinging from the ball, that it will.
He lets me sort it all out in my head, and when I nod to him, continues with the drills. No questions asked.
And it feels like home.
I haven’t managed to convince myself to stop thinking that, especially not now that my feelings go deeper than I realised. But I can’t help but hope that when I return from South Africa, instead of going to Auckland, I can come here. To Liam. Or Liam could come to Auckland, but I think he prefers it here with hiscolourful kitchen and large whiteboard. I don’t care where I am as long as it’s with him.
But I’m not going to force myself on him and into his life after I’ve already done that for the week. I need to figure out what he wants before I ask him for more. He probably doesn’t want a rugby player who’s in the media more than he’d like, especially when Liam doesn’t even post his face on his Instagram and uses a pseudonym.
But that won’t stop me from trying. I just need to figure out a game plan. And how to deal with the media who’ll be fucking annoying if they find out I have a boyfriend.
I catch the ball and tuck it under my arm and wrap my other around Liam’s shoulders, ducking my head to press a kiss to his damp hair. “Come on, let’s get clean and warm before dinner and an early night.”
Liam’s arm snakes around my waist. “Are you sure you don’t need more time?”
“No, this was enough.” I wrap my arms around him properly and hug him tightly, the ball pressed against his back. “Thank you, for everything.”
Liam untucks his head from my neck, smiles at me, and says, “Anytime,” before dragging me inside and into the steamy shower where my shoulder feels normal and my chest continues to feel warm and gooey whenever I look at him.
“Are you going to watch the game with me?” I ask, setting an alarm for four-thirty in the morning.
“Of course I will.” Liam rolls to his side and tucks close to me for our last night together.
The alarm goes off entirely too soon, and we stumble to the lounge yawning.
I’m always with the team, and it’s been years since I got up at the ass crack to watch a game. I forgot how brutal it is.
It’s not long before we’re huddled on the couch with the TV on and mugs of tea on the coffee table. Neither of us feel like eating so early. The TV lights the lounge; we kept the other lights off, and it’s an oddly cosy experience sitting beside him on the couch with tea and rugby. Or it would be if my hands weren’t shaking.
My leg bounces listening to the national anthem as the camera pans across my teammates, wearing their black jerseys and staring into the distance. The camera focuses on Jamie, who’s singing his heart out, and then on Suli, whose lips are barely moving underneath his beard. I snort.
