Chapter Twenty-Three

C hapter Twenty-Three

A ndy

L eading the Hearts through a win was one of the best feelings in the world. The boys were amped up, the banter flowed and the laughter was in abundance. Successes were celebrated and missed opportunities were explored positively with a ‘fix it next game' optimism.

Conversely, leading them through a loss was one of the worst. The rooms were sombre, heads bowed, and the coaches provided brutal honesty in their post-match address. As captain, the weight rested on my shoulders. I couldn't accept the pride that came with a win without also wearing the responsibility when we didn't.

Especially a loss like the one we had tonight, where some of the fans on social media questioned ‘ if the Hearts even showed up to play' making the fatigue heavier and the disappointment deeper. Usually after a defeat I would head straight to the offices, watching and rewatching the match tapes, scrutinising every play of the ball, every ‘one-percenter' which resulted in a goal or assist. I'd send each player a message with things to work on or things I was proud to see. Remind them to keep their head up and to focus on the following week.

But tonight, the only place I wanted to be was at home. When I woke up in the hotel alone, the weight of last night heavy in the air, Arna was the only person I wanted to see. I would usually call Mum and Dad or head to the gym to lick my wounds, but interestingly, my regular was not what I needed.

She was.

I retrieved drinks from the small fridge on the balcony and walked over to where Arna sat on one of the recliners. Her legs were crossed at the ankles and seemed to go on for days. Her hands rested on top of her stomach, which was covered in a loose-fitting white dress, transparent enough that the red bikini she was wearing was clearly visible underneath.

She was a fucking sight.

From the moment she arrived I wanted to strip her naked and bury myself deep within her, but there was a lot to be said for the art of patience. Not only did she deserve to be savoured, but there was something bothering her and I wanted her to feel relaxed enough to share. Selfishly, I also wanted insight into that incredible little mind of hers to know exactly how to alleviate those worries.

"Are you sure you want to hear the latest chapter of my workplace drama?" Her accompanying smile was forced and for the first time I wondered if she enjoyed her job as much as she said she did.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

"Okay, okay. Picture this." She turned to face me, tucking one of her legs under the other and I caught a glimpse of her bikini bottom for the slightest moment feeling like a pervert when I couldn't look away. "So, I am seconded to conduct a scintillating interview with an illustrious football deity – that's you, of course." She grinned mischievously and I smiled enjoying the theatrics.

"And amidst our ongoing exchange of flirtatious banter, a fleeting moment of intimacy is immortalised by those garbage dwelling paparazzi…." She paused for full effect, "Now, cue the melodramatics of my absolute dickwad of a boss. Because in his infinite wisdom, he has a death wish and dares to question my objectivity." She threw her hands in the air and shook her head, clearly more upset than her sarcastic tone betrayed if her eye roll was anything to go off. "Like, now my entire journalistic ethos apparently hangs by a thread. The – fucking – audacity!" She punctuated each word with a sharp clap.

"Naturally, I had to school him in the fine art of separating personal from professional, reminding him my integrity is obviously unwavering. I mean, surely, he understands, one must never allow a flashbulb frenzy to overshadow the essence of true journalism." Her final words oozed with a sarcasm I was finding she used a lot and I laughed, applauding her as she took a mock bow.

"So, your boss is a total dick. You're one of a kind – surely, he knows that."

"He does not, because I spent all afternoon editing a manuscript about how celery is reportedly being used to cure anxiety." She rolled her eyes before taking a large sip of her wine. "Anyway, that is not at all interesting, but thank you for listening. How was Adelaide?"

"Nice diversion," I grinned. "I think my weekend sounds similar to yours. Only it isn't the boss who is questioning me but the fans and media. Again."

"You know, I never noticed the Hearts before. No offence." She shrugged apologetically. "But now, I feel like everywhere I go I see your photo or something about the team. You're a big deal, huh?"

I sat back in the outdoor recliner and sighed. "It would seem so."

"What's it like, living this life?" She asked genuinely as she raised her sunglasses to rest on top of her head. There was no expectation in her features, no pressure to provide a certain bravado or pretence. She was simply asking a question which hundreds had asked before, but from an honest and unassuming place.

"Days like today are rough." I answered, raising my beer to my mouth. Watching me with intrigue she seemed to ponder my response before she asked another question.

"Why do you carry the weight of a loss alone? There are twenty-one other players. And, yes, you should be proud of that knowledge – I'm honestly a super fan at this point. But seriously, I appreciate you're the captain, but it seems quixotic to carry that on your own." She looked out towards the cityscape after planting that seed, giving me time to think before I responded.

I ran a hand through my hair, lolling my head to face her. "You know you're a logophile, right?"

Arna burst out laughing, slapping a hand against her thigh. "You Googled that word, didn't you?" She said between her laughter.

I nodded emphatically, not even remotely apologetic. "I did. And then I used it with every person I could so I wouldn't forget it. Half the boys questioned if I was having a stroke. But it's true. You love words. I've never heard of half of the shit you say." She looked at me thoughtfully and I smiled.

"But to answer your question, I guess it's part of the role. Sometimes it feels like lugging a fridge up a steep hill. As the skipper, you feel every bump, every struggle and every setback. When we're handed a loss like the other night, it's as if every single player takes a knock to the heart, but as the captain, that weight lands directly on you. You're the one copping the most speculation from the press, doubt from the coaches and scrutiny from the fans. It's part of the gig, but it doesn't make it easier. I have to shoulder it, rally the boys and bounce back stronger. It's the only way."

"Sounds heavy." She said, her eyes searching my own.

"Probably no different to the pressure you feel from your boss."

"A lot different. That's one person, not thousands. Plus, I don't have people trying to take a photo of me every second of the day. Unless I'm with you, of course." She smirked and I swung my legs towards her, placing my feet on the ground.

"I'm going to order us some pizzas and then we can have a spa. Do you like ham and pineapple?"

"Ummm, asking me if I like pineapple on pizza is like asking me if I like my shoes on the wrong feet – absolutely not. Pineapple only belongs in a cocktail, not on a perfectly delicious cheese pizza." The clear repulsion on her face made me laugh.

"Extra pineapple it is." I said, finishing the rest of my beer and taking her empty glass. "Refill?"

"Definitely." She replied. "A girl could get used to this service, Mr. Gloss." She called over her shoulder and I grinned, thinking about how catering to her wants and needs was something I could also happily get used to doing, especially if it involved more activities like the last time we were out here.

When I came back outside after changing into my swim shorts, the blue lights of the spa illuminated the otherwise darkened balcony. Pausing, I stole the opportunity to admire her while she was facing the night sky and my eyes widened in admiration. Where she stood, silhouetted by the shimmering city lights, she was undeniably the sexiest woman I had ever laid eyes on, a vision of both elegance and allure.

Clad in her crimson bikini, my dick twitched at the subtle confidence she effortlessly radiated. Her figure, clearly sculpted by the fucking gods, drew me in like a moth to a flame and was bested only by her sassy, articulate mouth. In the briefest of time, I had become mesmerised by this woman and felt powerless to stop the gravitational pull.

"You are breathtaking." I said, walking over to her as she turned. Her eyes glimmered and the drinks we already shared were evident in the lazy smile which spread across her face as she slowly raked her eyes down my bare chest.

"Speak for yourself. I'm starting to see exactly why everyone wants photos of you." She joked and I felt my face split into a smile as I moved in closer. Glancing down, my gaze lingered on her plush tits which were pressing out of her top, begging for my hands to touch them.

"Okay, let's see how this spa is, Gloss."

"After you, Frost." I retorted, matching her banter. I watched the sway of her gorgeous arse as she moved to the jacuzzi. Quickly connecting my phone to the speakers, Counting Crows played as I grabbed a couple of drinks from the bar before joining her in the tub.

There were plenty of times I sat in this spa at night after a tough game and wondered what it would be like to have someone else to share the space with. Someone to take my mind off the constant thoughts of the match or frustration over missed opportunities. However, no matter how many times I'd considered her I don't think my imagination could have ever conjured up the sight before me.

She was sitting in one of the corner seats, her head back and her eyes closed. Her arms swept back and forth through the water and when I entered the tiny splashes caused her to open her eyes.

"Oh my god, Andy, this is one of the best moments of my life. I'm moving in." I froze and she burst into laughter. "Shit, sorry. You should see your face. I was joking. Relax. Please don't think I'm some stage five clinger who thinks we are now in a relationship." She giggled again. "But seriously, I could get used to a spa like this with a view like that." She pointed to where I was standing, using her finger to encompass both myself and the cityscape.

Breathing down my initial shock I lifted one shoulder before moving further into the water.

"One of the perks, I suppose. Although, I must say, it's definitely better with you here."

"Happy to be of service."

Settling into the bubbles, I allowed the warmth of the water to wash over my sore muscles. The ice baths, post-game massages and physio only did so much and it was partially why I bought the hot tub in the first place. Although, Arna, in her fucking lack of clothes was my new favourite reason.

Leaning towards her, I smirked at the curious glint in her eyes. "Fancy a game of truth or dare?" I asked.

She pursed her lips in consideration. "Will it be hotter than the water because I'm not interested otherwise." She stated and I felt myself harden at her innuendo.

Moving closer, she stiffened in anticipation, and I took her chin in my hand, tilting her face up towards me. The lights of the spa highlighted the glistening spark in her eyes and when she looked down at my lips, I pulled her into me and pressed my mouth against hers. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist and I sighed when she threw an arm around my neck deepening the kiss.

Shit, I missed her.

Breaking the kiss, I whispered against her lips. "Truth or dare?"

Putting space between us, she placed her drink on the corner of the spa and licked her lips. "Dare."

Ooooh, my little wordsmith was feisty tonight and she was probably betting on me not calling her bluff. Refusing to look a gift horse in the mouth, I licked my lips and grinned. Without taking my eyes off her I voiced the fantasy that had been on my mind since the last time she was here.

"I dare you to bend over the edge of the jacuzzi."

Her brows raised as she shrugged. "Pffft. Easy." I watched her stand and walk confidently towards the edge and just as she was about to step up, I spoke again, halting her movements.

"Naked."