Page 65 of Hotshot

“If you’re lucky, I might be here.”

Sloane opened the door in her T-shirt and shorts, but it wasn’t the expected delivery driver. Rather, it was Nat, dressed in jeans, pristine Nikes, and a hoodie, her short, dark hair flopped in front of her eyes. Sloane had hardly ever seen her out of her tracksuit or kit. She looked even younger, somehow.

Sloane blinked twice before she could get any words out of her mouth. She’d said goodbye to Nat four days earlier, and hadn’t expected her back in Salchester until the 29th. This was two days early.

Shit.

Something must have happened with Nat’s family.

But this was spectacularly bad timing. Fear sprang up in Sloane’s body. She had to stall Nat. She didn’t want it getting out to everyone before she and Ella even knew what this was. They hadn’t spoken about anything. They’d been lost in their sex bubble.

Nat had well and truly popped it.

“It’s you.” Bad start. “What are you doing here?” Terrible follow-up.

She was the absolute worst person in the entire world. Ella had told Nat her door was always open, as had Sloane. Here Nat was, taking her up on her offer. Sloane just hadn’t laid down specific times when the door might be less open.

Like this morning.

Nat frowned, and Sloane was sure her lip quivered, too.

Yep, Sloane was going to hell on the express train.

“I was just on the way back to my flat, and I stopped to speak to Ella. But she wasn’t in. So I thought I’d see if you had time for a coffee. But if this is a bad time?” Her face crumpled, but she tried to hold it together. It lasted at least ten seconds. “I left Liverpool early, it was all just a bit too much.” Nat’s eyes went shiny. “And I thought…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

To avoid Nat collapsing on the doorstep and Sloane winning the Biggest Douchebag Friend of the Year award, she put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in. “What I said was true. Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you.”

Evidently, she could lie through her teeth.

But that didn’t change the fact that Ella was still in her kitchen, in just panties and a long shirt, in a sexed-up daze.

She had to keep calm. She threaded her arm through Nat’s to control her speed, and walked her very slowly down the hallway.

“Coffee’s just brewed, so you timed it right, Nat!” Sloane shouted her words, like she was performing in the local pantomime. Apparently, that was a big thing in the UK. She’d seen posters all over town, and it was sold out.

Nat looked at her like she’d gone mad.

But Sloane had to warn Ella. Or perhaps she should have made Nat wait at the front door? Too late, she was here now.

“Did you have a good break?” She was still doing her panto voice.

She wanted to shoot herself in the head.

Nat looked even more confused as Sloane slowed her pace.

“Is everything okay?” Nat frowned. “I just told you I left early after everything was rubbish.”

Sloane resisted the urge to bash her own head against the living room door frame. She had to walk through it, but she hoped Ella had heard Nat was here. If she was at the counter, shirt undone, waiting for Sloane, they were both about to die a very slow death.

At that thought, Sloane removed her arm from Nat and bolted into the main living space.

Ella stood in front of the coffee machine. Thankfully, her shirt was completely buttoned up, the festive tea towel in front of her knees. Which only made Sloane melt that little bit more.

“Oh fuck, I didn’t realise…” Nat left the words hanging in the air as she looked from Sloane, to Ella, and back. “…that you had company,” she finished, eventually. Then she cleared her throat as her cheeks turned the same colour as Ella’s. “This is why you didn’t answer your door when I tried you first,” Nat said to Ella. “Because you’re here.” She winced. “Fuck, I should go.” Then she burst out crying.

Ella dropped the tea towel, walked over and pulled Nat into a hug. “Don’t be stupid, you don’t have to.”

Nat sank into the embrace, and Sloane marvelled at how much of a confidant Ella had become to the young players. They all trusted her implicitly. It was quite the skill.

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