Page 11 of Hotshot

But she’d followed Sloane on her socials since the start of her career. Liked numerous posts. Watched her game and her life grow. Now she was in a lift with her.

It was still weird.

Ella reached over to tap her floor button.

Sloane reached over to do the same thing.

Their fingers collided, and Ella jumped.

Beside her, Sloane blushed.

How did she know the floor she lived on? Ella pressed floor five, and the lift moved. She avoided looking at Sloane again.

The tip of her finger glowed hot.

When they reached her floor, Ella threw herself out of the lift as if she were on fire.

Which she sort of was.

* * *

“Probably not asfancy as your penthouse.” Ella cleared her throat and pulled her shoulders back, determined to take control of this situation.

Sloane followed Ella over to the kitchen and put her gooey eggs on the counter. “More homey, though.” She pointed at the far wall. “You have a picture up. That’s more than I’ve been able to manage in my few weeks here.”

“I managed to retrieve some bits and bobs from my storage unit.” Ella smiled. “It’s nice to have stuff around you. It makes you feel settled.” She paused. “If you want to go to Ikea and do a picture run, I’d be happy to take you.”

Having dumped the eggs on the kitchen counter, Sloane ran her hand under the tap and dried her hand on the tea towel, before neatly folding it and placing it back on the cooker handle. “I might take you up on that.”

Ella nodded, trying not to panic about the thought of choosing picture frames and tealights with Sloane. Marina would go bananas. She had to remember that Sloane was just a normal person. Freakishly gorgeous and talented, but normal, too. She probably loved Ikea meatballs and mash the same as anyone. Even global sports superstars had to eat. Although Wispas might not be high in her diet.

As if reading her mind, Sloane picked them up from the counter. “Are these any good? I love trying new snacks in all the countries I visit.” She held up a hand. “Not that I’m visiting here, but you know what I mean.”

“You should definitely try them,” Ella replied. “Wispas are my weakness. But if you ask nicely, I might give you a bite.”

Did that sound like flirting? It wasn’t meant to be. Stop it, Carmichael. “Do you want anything? A coffee, maybe?” Well styled out.

A shake of her head. “Bit late, but water would be lovely.”

Ella indicated her sofa. “Take a seat, I’ll bring it over.”

“I can get it, just point me towards your glass cupboard.”

“Above the sink.” Ella grabbed the fridge items and stowed them. She’d tackle the eggs once Sloane had gone. She didn’t need to see her scramble eggs.

When Ella looked up, Sloane stared at the magnetic-framed photo on her fridge.

Ella clutched the bag of pasta she held a little tighter. This was straying into Sloane finding out more about her before the other way around. Not the way it was meant to work.

“Is this you?”

The photo was of Ella, aged four. She had massive Lego hair, and was dressed in full Salchester Rovers kit, one leg up on a football, both arms flexed in a show of strength. It always made people laugh, including Ella.

“Yep, that’s me, future football star, aged four.”

“Was your mum behind the camera?”

Ella nodded. “Always. Encouraging me to be what I wanted to be.” She pointed to the photo underneath, where her mum was eternally 40. Always smiling and cheering her on. “That’s her.”

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