18. W I L K S

EIGHTEEN

W I L K S

“Lads, listen up. This is another important game for us this season,” I inform the team as we huddle into a circle. “And because of that, I want to see everyone bringing their A-game today. Hart,” I call out his name first, commanding his attention. “Make sure you’re watching out for number twelve. He’s like a whippet the way he moves around the field, you following?”

“That I am.”

I nod. “And Green.” I divert my gaze towards him next. “Their striker is weak on his left side, so if he makes it on our end, you steer him to the left, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Captain.” Green nods his head receptively.

“And for the rest of you…” I meet the eyes of each player one by one. “When we’re out there, we’ve got to make sure that we’re communicating with one another. We’re a team, lads, and the only way we’re going to make this work is if we act like one, got it?”

“Got it,” they all say in unison.

There’s nothing quite like having these pre-game pep talks where I can shed light on our opponents. Even before I took on the role of captain, I’d always taken the liberty to do my homework. I learned that from Coach.

“Know your team like the back of your hand, but know your opponent like they’re your best friend.”

I hold onto every piece of wisdom Coach throws my way—I have to. Coach knows what he’s talking about. He played in the big leagues for most of his career. Therefore, I’d be stupid not to take any piece of advice he can pass along.

“Alright, hands in,” I instruct as both Alf and Coach join us in placing their hands in the huddle. “Let’s get this game started, shall we?”

“Crawfield on three. One, two, three, Crawfield, ” we chant before peeling apart from one another, yet my hope is that my motivational speech will be enough to bind us together throughout the game.

I’m in the starting lineup, as usual, jogging my way onto the field, where I’m immediately greeted with an overwhelming amount of support.

“We love you, Wilks,” I hear someone in the crowd call out, and it’s not just the kids in my jersey who are cheering me on. It's a mixture of all ages—young, old, you name it, they're there.

The fans are a second family to the team, and without them, we’re nothing. Their support is what motivates us to keep going, and after the few days I’ve just had, Lord knows I need it.

I’ve been torturously looping my conversation with Ruby over and over in my mind. It pains me to know that Chelsie came back into town this morning and that I wasn’t the first person to greet her, but I have to have trust in what Ruby said to me. I have to let her take the lead. I can’t push something with someone who’s not ready.

The whole point of a relationship is to mutually work towards something together, but if Chelsie’s not ready yet, that’s okay. I’ll wait. I’ll wait until she tells me what she wants, and if that isn’t me, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now, I have something else to do—a job I need to accomplish and a role I have to take on.

I’m this team's captain, meaning nothing can stand between me and being my absolute best for my boys. So far, this season has been nothing shy of perfection—and even despite the lingering thoughts in the back of my mind, I don’t intend for that to change.

“Ready, lads?” The ref joins us on the field, ready to conduct the coin toss to determine who will be first to start with the possession of the ball.

“Heads,” I immediately call out my tried-and-true option as I watch the coin do somersaults in the air until the ref catches it, places it on top of his palm, and slowly reveals the face I so diligently called out.

“Crawfield will start with first possession,” they announce, gesturing their hand in my direction.

With a smile on my face, I nod, shaking hands momentarily with the other team’s captain until the rest of the boys join me on the pitch.

“Listen, I want a nice, clean game today, boys,” the ref requests as Hart joins me up front to begin kickoff.

The comment is blatantly directed towards Hart, given he’s got the most yellow cards this season. The guy is like an animal on the pitch, so much so that Coach made him sign up for ballet classes. Said he needed to learn a thing or two about being graceful.

We laughed at first, but that shit has really cleaned up his act, and now I’m debating signing myself up as well.

“But of course, ref,” Hart shoots him a coy smirk. “Would you expect anything less?”

The ref rolls his eyes at Hart's comeback and brings the whistle to his lips. “Ready, and?—”

*Phwwwwwhht*

And so it begins.

CHELSIE

“Here, come this way.” I follow behind Delaney as we weave our way through the excitable Crawfield crowd.

“Are you sure about this, Delaney?” I shout out. “I hope this isn’t too much trouble.”

“Nonsense,” she calls back out to me, stopping at the bottom of a set of stands right in the middle of the pitch. “Besides, we’re here now.” She gestures just up ahead. “See the girl who’s sat just up there?”

I follow her finger toward a girl with light brown hair who sits patiently with a book in her hands, waiting for the game to begin.

“Her?” I ask, confirming that we’re looking at the same person.

“Yeah.” Delaney smiles. “That’s Hazel. She’s sat in the friends and family section. So, you can sit there with her. Go on .”

I gulp. “I don’t know…” I can't help but feel reluctant to be in such an intimate section of the field, given that I'm neither a friend nor family member of Gary’s. I’m in this awkward phase of what the hell are we? Doubt there’s a section for that.

Besides, what if he sees me? Will he think that’s weird? Or will he be happy?

Ugh. This internal conflict is exhausting.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?” Delaney gently pushes me to work my way up the stands. “Don’t be silly, the game is about to start! I’ll meet up with you after, and I’ll take you to see Wilks,” Delaney says with a final nudge. “Enjoy the game!”

I wince out a smile as I reluctantly make my way up the stands, using the girl in a Crawfield jersey as my guide map on where to stop until, finally, I reach her section.

“Um, hi.” I’m stupidly awkward as I take a seat beside her—prompting her head to lift up from her novel. “I’m Chelsie,” I attempt to introduce myself. “Uh… Delaney said I could sit here with you? That’s okay, right?”

“Oh, that’s more than okay.” She smiles, extending her hand out for me to shake. “I’m Hazel Collins. It’s nice to meet you, Chelsie!”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” I’m receptive to her touch before I make myself comfortable in my seat, taking a second to take in the pure size of the field—the players look like ants from up here. That doesn’t stop me from being able to identify Gary, as he’s first to line the pitch, standing with the ref as they begin their coin toss.

“You know, I really hope they get first possession.” Hazel leans in close, both of her fingers crossed, until the ref signifies that Crawfield will start first. “Yes!” She jumps up enthusiastically. “Nice job, Wilks!” she cups her hands around her mouth and screams out.

I shield my face out of sight, worried that Gary might look over. “Sorry,” she apologizes, seemingly picking up on my gesture. “I just get really excited, that’s all. The team has so much momentum when they start with first possession. It boosts their confidence, I swear!”

“That’s okay,” I reassure her. “Don’t apologize. I’m just… not used to this atmosphere, that’s all. It’s all new to me.”

“Oh, you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.” Hazel playfully flashes me a smile. “So, tell me. Is this your first game?”

As if it wasn’t already obvious, I anxiously nod my head.

“Really?” Hazel bubbles over with excitement. “That’s amazing. You’re in for a real treat…” she lingers at the end in an attempt to remember my name.

“ Chelsie .”

“Ah, yes, Chelsie.” She nods, raising her finger into the air. “Not sure how I forgot that, that’s Greenie’s favorite football team.”

“Greenie?” I question.

“Sorry, Green ,” she corrects herself. “Daniel Green. He’s standing right over there.” She points towards number seven, who stands in the center of the defensive line. He’s stocky, clean cut and now waving over in Hazel’s direction as she flashes him a warm smile.

“Aw, cute. How long have you two been dating?” I can’t help but ask, feeling this abundance of chemistry despite the distance between the two of them.

“Dating?” Pink rises to her rounded cheeks as she clutches onto the book that rests in her lap. “No, no, no,” she’s quick to deny my accusation. “Green and I, we’re just friends. We have been forever, actually. We grew up together. So, I try my best to come to all of his games. It makes me happy to watch him play. What about you?” She diverts the question back my way. “Who are you here to watch?”

Before I can respond, the remaining players make their way onto the field, but my eyes don’t gravitate towards them. They immediately fall back onto Gary.

There he is, standing front and center, with his foot on top of the ball, patiently waiting for the ref to blow into the whistle.

It’s tough to be so far away from him, knowing how close we once were. Just staring at him holds the power to remind me of the feeling of his lips, his hands, the pounding of his heart with each and every tug of my?—

“Wilks, huh?” Hazel’s voice, in combination with the ref blowing into the whistle, prompts me to swallow deeply.

Christ. Is it really that obvious?

“So, are you two dating?” Curiosity seems to get the best of her as she purses her lips.

I shoot her a playful stare.

“What?” she protests. “I’m a romance lover. See…” She lifts her novel into the air, pointing to the cover where two people are intimately kissing. “I love, love . So spill. Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to say, Gary… Wilks,” I keep having to do that. “And I aren’t together.” I re-divert my attention back onto the field. “We’re just?—”

“Figuring things out?”

I look her way once more. “ Precisely .”

We watch in silence for a few moments before the question train continues.

“So, how did you guys meet?” Hazel settles into her seat, crossing one leg over the other as she smiles at me through the corner of her eye.

I smile back. “Well, I work at the bakery nearby,” I explain. “And to cut a long story short, Wilks just so happened to stop by. We got to talking, and low and behold, here I am.”

Hazel places her elbows on her knees as her head drops into her hands. “Sounds romantic,” she gushes. “I love a good meet cute.”

“Meet cute?” My brows crease in confusion.

“Yeah, meet cute.” Her eyes move back and forth as she follows the play on the field. “It’s when two love interests meet for the first time. Think of it like two strangers bumping into one another, or two people calling for a taxi at the same time. It’s like fate bringing them together. Destiny if you… YES !”

I have to shield my ears as not only does Hazel jump up from her chair, but so does the entire stadium as they erupt into a cheerful fit of excitement.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Hazel jumps up and down. “That might’ve been their quickest goal ever!”

“They scored?” I join her in standing up from my seat, watching as the players embrace themselves into a hug.

“Yes, Wilks scored!”

My eyes widen in disbelief. “He did?”

“Look at the screen.” Hazel points to the right side of the pitch, where I watch Gary’s goal in slow motion.

The ball soars in from the outside wing into the box, where he heads it into the net with a force.

“ Christ .” Hazel takes the word right out of my mouth. “That was a nice one. Way to go, Wilks!” She cheers until eventually everyone takes their seats, re-settling with the words “Gary Wilkinson” on their lips.

“Is it always like this?” I’m still in shock as I lean into Hazel.

She looks me in the eyes. “Do you mean is Wilks always like this?” She re-phrases my question. “Yes.” She nods. “Yes, he is. So get into it, Chelsie!” She cheers me on, reaching for a Crawfield scarf that rests in her tote bag and wrapping it around my neck. “That’s your man out there.”

I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes as I re-divert my attention back onto the field, feeling a new sense of confidence with Hazel's encouragement—so much so that as the remainder of the game goes by, I fall into the deeming habits of a football fan: yelling out at the ref when I don’t agree with their call, professing my love for the ref when they make one in our team's favor. Inputting my two cents about what the boys should be doing, then mocking that I could do better even though I know I can’t. Then, the best part of all? Cheering, laughing, and screaming each and every time the team scores… this time, I don’t miss the other two moments where Gary brings in the goals for the team.

The game ends after about three minutes of added time, with Crawfield winning 4-1.

After the final whistle, the players cheer alongside the crowd, Gary included, before shaking hands with the opposing team and exiting the field.

The stadium is quick to empty when, all at once, Delaney comes into view at the bottom of the stands. “Hazel! Chelsie!” She calls out our names. “C’mon down, girls. Let me take you through the tunnel.”

I quickly look in Hazel’s direction for clarity. “The tunnel?”

“Yeah,” she responds like this is a standard routine for her. “We’re going to see the boys. Are you ready?”

My escalating heartbeat reminds me that I knew Delaney said she was going to bring me to Gary after, but little did I realize that she meant we were going to go behind the scenes. Now, as I make my way down through the stands, I’m left meticulously trying to fix my hair in the reflection of my phone screen until finally, I reach the bottom.

“You look perfect,” Delaney remarks, beaming down at my scarf before she meets my eyes. “Love the merch, by the way.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as Hazel interlocks our arms as one. “And I’m positive Wilks will, too…”