Page 88 of Hotshot

“Sloane Patterson is one of the most level-headed footballers I’ve ever met. She also likes you. A lot. I would lay bets this has all been a misunderstanding.”

“Why are you defending her?”

“Because I like her, and I love you. I think she might be a little in love with you already, and vice versa. Put that all together, and that’s why I’m defending Sloane. If she’s a schmuck and I turn out to be wrong, I’ll have to revise my entire view of human nature. Don’t write her off just yet.”

Ella picked up her phone. “I’ll message her now, shall I?” Sarcasm dripped from her words. What did Marina know about relationships? She was still single, after all.

Marina rolled her eyes, plucked the phone from Ella’s fingers and put it on her wooden coffee table, face down. “You don’t have to do it now. She’s a little busy.”

“Playing with her ex.”

“Playingagainsther ex. There’s a significant difference.”

Ella huffed. It was hard being mad at Sloane, even when she was in the wrong. Because feelings didn’t just turn off overnight, did they? “Okay. I’ll think about it.” She glanced up. “Can we watch women play football now?”

“You’re not going to throw anything at the TV?”

“No promises.”

They switched it on. It had just started. The USA were already on the attack, and their other striker, Lena Jackson, rifled a shot at Rovers’ keeper, Becca. She got her full weight behind it and fell on the ball.

Ella clapped her hands. “Go, Becca!” She was definitely cheering for England tonight. On the right side of the screen, Sloane jogged away from goal. Ella’s mouth went dry. She still looked good in her kit. That hadn’t changed.

Becca bounced the ball, then put it down for a goal kick. Ella leaned into Marina. “I scored a goal against her in training. Did I mention that?”

“Once or twice,” Marina replied.

* * *

Ella wokethe following morning with a small kernel of hope that maybe she and Sloane could get things back on track. That maybe Marina was right, and there was a logical explanation for Sloane and Jess. They shared a lot of history. Plenty of lesbians were friends with their exes. Did plenty of exes’ land on top of each other and roll around on a grass pitch in front of millions of viewers worldwide, as Sloane and Jess had done last night? Ella was glad Marina had watched it with her and kept repeating that it was their job to get stuck into their tackles. Otherwise, Ella might have paid too much attention to the commentators who kept mentioning that they used to be engaged.

“How strange to be tangling on a field in front of millions with someone you were engaged to only six months ago. What do you think, Alex?” one had asked the other.

Ella wanted to punch the screen.

This morning, she grabbed her phone from the bedside table and called up the latest message from Sloane. She’d sent it after the game last night, which had ended in a 2-2 draw. England had led 2-1, but then Sloane had won a penalty, after being hacked down in the box. She’d stepped up, and in a show of ice-cold precision, slotted it past Becca.

Ella hadn’t known how to feel. Sad for England? Happy for Sloane that she was back scoring on the big stage?

But also, fuck Sloane. For being so good. And looking so hot in a football kit.

Sloane’s message told Ella she had her voice in her ear when she took the penalty, telling her it was just her, nobody else, just her and the ball. One goalkeeper, one goal, just like they’d practised. Ella shook her head. She was pretty sure Sloane had mastered penalties way before they met, but she was touched she’d tried to include her as part of her achievement.

Should she reply? She took a deep breath and thought about what she might write.

Great game last night. Fab penalty. Really loved the way you rolled around with your ex, too. Or is she your ex?Yeah, maybe she wasn’t ready quite yet.

Marina popped her head inside Ella’s bedroom door. “You’re holding your phone. Have you seen the photos from last night yet?” Her voice was tentative.

The blood drained from Ella’s face. “What photos?” Her voice sounded as tired as she felt.

Marina walked over and sat on Ella’s bed. “I’m sure there’s nothing to them. But have a look anyway.” She handed Ella her phone.

What Ella saw made her drop her phone on her bed covers, and close her eyes. Photos of Sloane and Jess hugging on the pitch after the game, and then afterwards, chatting and hugging in the English team’s changing room. At least they were wearing tracksuits, and they weren’t naked. She had to be thankful for what she could get.

“I know you said not to jump to conclusions, but even you might say this was a bit much. We’ve been seeing each other for nearly four months. She’s never wanted to hug me in public. But she sees Jess for five minutes and they’re all over each other?”

Marina nodded. “I get it. I’d be pissed. But it was a friendly game. She hugged others on the English team as well.” Her kind eyes rested on Ella. “Speak to her. Sloane is genuine. I’m sure of it.”

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