Page 55 of Hotshot

Salchester had an FA Cup tie tonight.

“Of course.”

“Great.”

“And Sloane?”

“Yes?”

“I kinda like that it’s something a couple might do.”

The sides of Sloane’s mouth quirked upwards. “Me, too.”

* * *

Playing football on cold,wet December nights was completely doable in Ella’s books. Yes, the first time the ball smacked you in the leg it stung like hell, but you soon warmed up.

Not so when you were in the dugout. There, on too-small plastic chairs with no shield from the biting wind, Ella’s feet were numb by the time they got to half-time. She was also numb to the performance so far, which she rated as one of the worst of the season. No pressing, no urgency, and a distinct lack of fight from every player on the pitch. Rovers’ league form was riding high. Their cup form was about to go out the window. Ella knew Lucy truly wanted to challenge for the FA Cup this year. But at 3-1 down to a team six places below them in the league, they only had 45 minutes to turn it around.

The players were silent as they sat on the thin wooden benches that lined the cold, white brick walls of the away dressing room. The smell of damp earth and disappointment permeated Ella’s airways. She pressed her back to the wall, arms folded across her chest, one ankle over the other. Lucy and Sloane were the last to walk in, deep in conversation. In an unexpected move, Lucy sat, and Sloane clapped her hands. Something prickled up Ella’s spine.

“Okay, listen up.” Her voice was a three-line whip, and Ella leaned in just like everyone else.

“You’re two goals behind. 3-1 down. It’s not been a great half. But you can’t change that.” Sloane eyed the group slowly, one by one. She didn’t speak again until she was sure she had everyone’s attention. “The thing is, you’re better than them, but you’re not playing with bravery. You’re not first to the ball. You’re not making challenges, winning second balls, being quick on the transitions. It’s killing me I can’t run on and help, but that would be bad for me and for the team for the rest of the season.”

Her small joke lightened the mood. But Sloane wasn’t done.

“But you shouldn’t need me. I’m only one person. I’m a team player. The team can function well without me, as you’ve shown over the past month. Don’t let me down now. When I come back in a few weeks, I want to play in the FA Cup. We’re already out of the Champions League, and I want to lift a trophy with you this season. I want to play at Wembley. The only way that happens? You all wake up, stop dreaming of Santa Claus or whatever the fuck you were thinking about in that first half, because it definitely wasn’t football, and put a foot in. Play as a team. Win the midfield battles. Look forward, play with passion.

“Remember what I told you in my personal session? Nothing is easy. You have to fight hard for what you want. This is the FA Cup. This is history. This is the last game before Christmas. Do it for yourselves, do it for me, do it for your teammates, but most of all, do it for the fans. Because you know what? It’s blisteringly cold on the sidelines. They could be at home watching one of those cute Hallmark Christmas movies instead of freezing their butts off out there.” She banged her hands together. “You with me?”

The whole team cheered back “Yes!”

“I can’t hear you. Stand up!” Sloane waited until it happened. “Everyone in the circle, including support staff. Even you, Lucy!”

Ella put one arm around Dan, the other around Layla.

“I said, are you with me?”

This time, the roar was deafening. The swell was so huge, it made Ella want to pull onherboots, go out there and make the difference.

“Then get out there, score some goals, don’t let any more in and let’s win this fucking game!”

More cheers, and then the players downed some water, went for a wee, and click-clacked their way back out to the pitch. Sloane high-fived every one of them at the door as they passed. Ella was the last one out.

Sloane held up her hand. “You don’t get away with it. High five!”

Ella did as she was told. “Good speech. You could give me a run for my money.”

“You better watch out for your job,” Sloane replied.

Ella reached up and gave her a short, snappy, sizzling kiss. “You better watch out for yours.” Then she squeezed her arse and walked out on the biggest high.

When she looked over her shoulder, Sloane gaped after her.

The look on her face was priceless.

* * *

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