Page 47 of Hotshot

“I’m not sure fish and chips – we call this a chippy tea – is the stuff elite athletes should be eating.” Ella walked into Sloane’s flat, still trying to pretend what happened, hadn’t. They were both doing a stellar job. “But it is very northern, so well done on trying to fit in.”

Sloane slammed the door with her crutch in a practised move, and hobbled to the kitchen. “If you don’t tell, I won’t either. Besides, I’ll eat minimal chips and hardly any batter. I’ll almost be inhaling the taste, rather than actually eating it.”

Ella tipped the food onto plates, slid the condiments across the island and joined Sloane on the adjacent stool. Their knees touched under the island ledge. Ella sucked in a breath. She wasn’t sure how long she could stay friends with Sloane without sayingsomething. What happened in the flat when they’d lain on the bed? That was something. They’d nearly kissed. She’d been frozen with an equal amount of delight that it might happen, and horror because shereallydidn’t want it to happen there.

Plus, kissing Sloane would lead to sleeping with Sloane, and that came with complications. They were on different paths, and they lived in different worlds. Sloane got photographed when she went for coffee. She was on the Pink Power list, for goodness sake. Ella just hoped the agent hadn’t recognised Sloane, or that could lead to some salacious gossip around town. She didn’t get the impression she had.

Instead, Ella focused on the food in front of her. Beside her, Sloane eyed Ella’s mushy peas with American-infused horror. “You like that grey-green sludge?”

“Have you even tried it?”

Sloane shook her head. “I don’t let anything that colour near my mouth. I’m very choosy.”

Did Ella match up to Sloane’s pickiness? Did she make the grade?

Over the fish and chips, Sloane related what she’d learned about her great-grandmother being Kilminster’s star striker. Ella was suitably in awe.

“Do you think you’ll go for the apartment?” Sloane forked a chip and ate it slowly. She was mid-chew when she reached out and grabbed the ketchup and salt to add more.

“I think so. My gut reaction says yes. I could see myself living there, and it’s just about in my price range. Plus, it would mean I didn’t have to spend my evenings and weekends trudging around more flats, so there’s that.” Ella paused. “I’m sure you can afford something bigger and better, but this is my reality.”

Sloane shook her head and put down the salt. “I’m lucky to stay here with the club paying for it. I know that. But if I were looking, that apartment was perfect.” She glanced Ella’s way. “We’re not as different as you think when it comes to money. I get paid well, and yes probably more than you, but it’s not on the men’s level.”

Could Sloane read her mind? Ella gave her a tight smile. “You definitely earn more than me, but you deserve to be paid more for your commitment and your skill. You deserve to be paid on a more equal footing to the men, too. You only have a limited window to play and truly earn. I don’t begrudge you it.”

Sloane cast her gaze to her food, then back up to Ella.

Ella wanted to trail her fingertips down Sloane’s cheek. Kiss away the crease on her forehead. But she didn’t.

“You know, I can loan you the money for the couch, too, if you want it earlier.”

Ella ground her teeth together. Money had always been a pressure point for her. She’d grown up with nothing. She’d built her business from scratch. Self-sufficiency was very important to her. She didn’t want to be in debt to anyone, especially Sloane.

She shook her head. “No thanks. I like to do things myself, my way. Money was an issue in my last long-term relationship, and it’s come between family, too. I get things when I need them and can afford them.” Had that come out too harshly? “But thank you.”

Sloane held her gaze. “I get that and admire it.” She paused. “And I agree about equal pay. It would be nice. But I know we need the crowds first. We’re on our way, though.”

Damn, the way Sloane was staring at her right now? Like she wanted to ask her a thousand questions, then listen to every answer as if it was gold? Ella wanted to stop the clock.

Although a kiss from her perfect, full lips would be nice, too.

She sighed internally. Her thoughts were way too confusing.

“But you know, if I had a choice between being paid more or being out and proud, I’d choose the latter. The more money involved, the more pressure on who you are off the field. The women’s game is full of queer players, and nobody blinks. I wouldn’t want to be a gay man playing soccer. That I can be me is worth more.”

“Even though it means you’re the subject of tabloid scrutiny just like everyone else.”

Sloane smiled. “It’s better than the alternative. I am my authentic self every day. If people want to take a shot of me drinking coffee, they’re welcome to it.”

They finished their tea and moved to Sloane’s luxuriously large sofa. Ella carried both glasses of water and put them on Sloane’s glass coffee table.

“Although I’m glad that real estate agent didn’t have a phone out to take a shot of us.” Sloane widened her eyes. “Fuck knows what she thought when she walked in on us.”

Fuck knows, indeed.

“Two friends discussing a possible move? Gal pals?”

“Gal pals for sure.” Sloane leaned her head back on the couch, then swung her gaze to Ella. “Although, lately I’ve started to think about you as more than that.”

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