Chapter Sixteen

C hapter Sixteen

A ndy

Pup: Big night, huh? Been waiting for your call since I spoke to Dale last night. My phone has been ringing hot – everyone is desperate to know more.

Pup: You okay?

Andy: You coming to the ground today?

Pup: I just arrived. Where are you?

Andy: Family area - Row C.

I didn't have the patience to unpack the fallout from last night via text. Sleep didn't come easy and despite having my phone on silent it was like I could feel the hundreds of notifications whispering my name. The serenity of the quiet stadium was welcomed as the mid-morning sun softly cased the rows of seats. Other than the linesman marking the field in preparation for our upcoming match, the ground was void of bodies and the peace was soothing.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, most likely someone else seeking answers I didn't have, to questions I'd already been asked. Mum and Dad already called this morning. They knew me well enough that when my face was plastered all over the media for any reason other than football, I would be frustrated. To their credit they didn't ask who the ‘mystery woman' was or tell me I needed to settle down.

Instead, they focused on the sickening behaviour of the paparazzi who Dad referred to as the Termite Army . He hated the way they infiltrated any type of outing I tried to have and told me so at every opportunity. Some of the boys would invite their family to join their interviews and I often wondered what my parents would say if they were approached. The thought was almost enough to cheer me up a little with Mum's soulless arseholes insults and Dad's collective sledges of maggot scum and egg rolls which were apparently the ultimate insults. After my very first interview they had encouraged me to be personable, coaching me on articulately recapping the game and my own performance without giving too much away, but after Mum was introduced to the truth of their cowardice not long after, neither of them again encouraged cooperation. Their stance mirrored my own and the normality and predictability of a conversation with them about this was what I needed after last night.

The minute Serg dropped me off my phone started blowing up with messages from those who had seen Arna at the club and connected the dots. What they thought was innocent fun only enraged me further as they created their own scenarios of why I agreed to be interviewed in the first place. I read every single message yet replied to no one except Jay. Surprisingly, his text wasn't a stupid joke but to actually check on me as he knew how much I hated this side of our lives. The camaraderie was comforting in an otherwise sea of lunacy.

The articles referring to her as ‘another goal on the board' or strangers who wrote about her as if they had the right, was exactly why I could never have a relationship. Who in their right mind would subject themselves to this kind of life if they didn't have to? Being plastered all over social media with headlines painting me as a scandalous playboy were nothing new but what I struggled with most were the lies about Arna.

Worse than that, I acted like a complete dick and barely spoke to her afterwards as if she had done something wrong – further playing into the portrayal of the ‘arrogant captain'.

Before the flashes destroyed our evening, I thought she was about to kiss me. The most used picture from the night showed the way my eyes lingered on her lips and some of the trashier sites explicitly called me out for it. I wanted to hate those articles the most but at least for once, they were accurate. I had been staring at her goddamn lips, and worse than that, I wanted her to lean that little bit further and feel them against my own. When I saved those photos to my phone gallery, it was because I wanted the reminder of why I didn't share my world, not because I wanted to look at them every opportunity I could.

It was just so easy to forget where I was when she was around. She took centre stage leaving everything else to orbit around her beauty and her effervescent spirit. But I was swept away in my own selfish anger and treated her like garbage. Even worse, I still hadn't reached out to touch base. Regardless of how I felt, the decent thing would have been to check in after what could have been a quite confronting experience. And now, over twelve hours later I still hadn't even sent her a message. I really was just as bad as they made me out to be.

"What are you doing out here?" Pup's voice ceased my thoughts as he took the seat next to me, his pressed grey suit pants perfectly matching his shirt and tie.

"My dad sat in this exact seat the first time I played for the Hearts. We won the game, and he still says he knew from the very first moment I touched the ball that I would be captain one day. Refuses to sit anywhere else now." I said, shaking my head, a soft smile creasing my face.

"You always were destined for greatness. You've got the golden touch, kid."

"Yeah, on the field maybe." I said, knowing Pup would be all over the media circus. It was his job to keep abreast of what his players did, and he had Google alerts set for each of us so his message this morning came as no surprise.

"Dale said you were coming in last night." He paused and I felt his gaze before he turned back to the field. "Said you lost your shit when the paps turned up. Apparently you were very focused on ensuring your friend wasn't photographed." There was a hint of humour in his tone and I flicked my head to the side, my scowl heavy.

"Don't beat around the bush, Pup."

"I saw the photos, obviously. That dinner looked mighty cosy. Most people wouldn't be able to tell who she is, but I would recognise that body anywhere."

"Watch it!" I snapped, turning to see the smile spread across his face as his loud laugh echoed around the empty stadium.

"I fucking knew it. Fell right into that one, Gloss. The irony is the greatest part. You like her, don't you? You like one of them ?" Why did I think this douchebag would give me a break when he was so clearly loving this?

"Fuck. I don't know."

When he heard the anguish in my voice he stopped laughing. "Shit. Sorry, kid. I was just joking. Don't worry, there'll be another scandal floating through the country by tomorrow morning and you'll both be long forgotten."

I huffed. "Last night was for the article, you know? Except…"

"Except it wasn't." He finished the sentence I couldn't bring myself to say. Who was I kidding thinking inviting this woman to dinner would end up just being work related.

"I haven't spoken to her since, Pup," I said. "I freaked out. You know how those bastards get to me. I can't have a single second of fucking peace. And then we left and I barely said a word."

"Why don't you just call her? Have you seen the photos of the two of you?" He asked seriously.

"Of course I've seen them. The whole bloody world has seen them." I snapped.

"No, Andy. Have you actually looked at them ? I don't know a lot about women - hell, Dale's mum can't stand the sight of me and I haven't been able to get another one since, but the way that woman is looking at you is not the way you look at someone you are just working with."

I glanced at him and could see no mockery or condescension in his demeanour. He took out his phone and opened to one of the photos, moving it into my line of sight.

My eyes zeroed in on the way Arna's hand was wrapped around the back of my neck, her chin tilted slightly, and from this angle she looked as though she were leaning forward. I could feel the ghost of her fingertips on my neck as she gently tucked my tag back into my shirt.

No one else would know that was why her lips were centimetres away from my neck. They wouldn't know that she smelt of sweet citrus and butterscotch or how her laugh was bubbly and light. They wouldn't know that while I looked shocked, I was aching for her to bridge the gap so I could see if she tasted as sweet as she smelt.

"Fuck. This is not good." I said, prying my eyes away from the phone which was begging me to study the photo again under this new lens.

"Stop being so hard on yourself. You live and breathe football and this club. It's okay to remember you are twenty-nine years old. Be selfish for once. Finish the feature or I'll kill you – but also, be selfish." He stood, patting me on the back once. "You know what you need to do, Andy. I'm going to go see some of the team. They're waiting for you too when you're ready." He threw over his shoulder, humour in his voice.

For a second I contemplated what it would be like to be selfish. How that might look or feel. How my life could entail pockets of happiness which didn't necessarily centre around football.

"Yeah," I said, shaking the possibility from my mind and following him. "I bet they bloody are." I knew they were going to give me absolute hell. Every single one of them would have recognised Arna.

"May as well get it over with then." Pup said, looking incredibly pleased to be here.

Entering through the side-door reserved for staff and deliveries, I made my presence known. "Seb, where you at?"

"Up here." Sebastian's voice bounced through the empty nightclub and I headed across to the stairs which led to his private office. The bar was shrouded in darkness and coupled with the noticeable silence, it was the complete opposite to how it pumped when open for business. On a busy Friday or Saturday night you weren't getting a drink without a wait unless you had the hook up with the VIP area like we always did.

Nexus was Sebastian's dream when we were growing up, but it had evolved significantly since he first pitched us the idea as we sat around a campfire as a group of foolish teenagers. I could still remember his grand plans and how Cooper and I offered haughty suggestions like stripper poles and back rooms open only to the high rollers. Now it was one of the best places in Sydney, far from the outlandish dreams of his youth and consequently he had a lot of which he could be proud. The line was always out the door, and he didn't overcrowd if it was at the detriment of quality which meant if you wanted to spend the night at Nexus, you knew you either came early or you potentially missed out.

"You have anything good up here or do I need to go back downstairs?" I asked to the back of his head before taking a seat on the single lounge in his office which sat opposite his desk.

He stood, closing the laptop he was working on and laughed before pouring us both a glass of whiskey. I took a small sip, savouring the initial burn, knowing I couldn't have more than the one during the season, but it would be enough to loosen the muscles which had been strained since last night. I enjoyed coming here when it was closed knowing there was no need to hide or pre-organise a secure place to spend the evening.

The silence wrapped around us, Seb giving me a moment to settle in and me gratefully taking advantage.

"You could have drunk alone at home so I'm guessing you're here for a reason. Unless you're here to give me more of your money." He spun the ice around his own glass, tracking the path with his eyes.

"Shut up. You got lucky." I sulked before adding, "And drinking alone is a slippery slope."

"You're not wrong." He agreed before waiting knowingly. Smug bastard knew exactly why I was here and I'd chosen the wrong place if I was searching for a sympathetic ear. Sebastian knew me well, but he also didn't flatter your ego or validate you with falsities. "What's troubling you, Ando?" He leant back in his chair and crossed his arms, a hint of playfulness on his face.

"Piss off, dickhead. I know you saw the photos. Coop has sent at least fourteen different versions of them." Seb barked a laugh at my irritation.

"You're definitely not getting any sympathy from him. You just missed him actually – which is lucky for you by the looks of it." He raised his eyebrows and I sighed.

"Yeah. She's a reporter. We were having dinner for that interview I was telling you about." I shrugged half-heartedly.

"Never known you to have dinner with an interviewer let alone eye-fuck her so blatantly." I choked on my whiskey which only made his arrogant grin wider. "Cooper wants to know if you did more than eye-f –"

"Don't!" I demanded, sending Seb into another fit of laughter.

"Now we are getting to the crux of you being here." He appraised, grinning at my grimace before turning serious. "They aren't all the same, you know?"

"Of course I know that," I lied.

"Mate, what happened to your mum was fucked. No one is going to argue with you there. I get why you don't want to talk to them or have them anywhere near your family, but they aren't all going to be like those wankers were." His words were punctuated by the sound of him returning his glass to his large oak desk. There was a small part of me which knew he was right. Knew that I shouldn't let a few bad apples spoil the bunch, but anytime I tried to forget, I would see Mum's swollen eye or the cut across her forehead from where she fell.

"You think this one might be different though, don't you?" His question gave me pause and I looked at him for a while before I finished the last of my drink.

"Honestly – I don't know what I'm thinking at the moment, but I wasn't in my best form after they took the photos, so it probably doesn't matter anyway." My admission was quiet, and Seb let the words hang in the air before he stood.

"Well, you're going to have to see her again so you should probably pull your head out of your arse and work out what it is you are thinking and speak to her. Otherwise Coop and Jay both said they could –"

"Don't fucking finish that sentence!" I growled following Seb out of the office, the sound of his chuckle cutting through the silence of the club.

"We can call them while I drive your arse home." He threw over his shoulder and I gritted my molars knowing I was going to need a hell of a lot of patience to bite my tongue.