19. W I L K S

NINETEEN

W I L K S

“We’re the best. We’re the best. We’re the fucking best. So sod to all the rest, ‘cause we’re the bloody best. Hey !”

“Stick to the football, lads,” Hart laughs at the team and I as we prance our way into the changeroom, singing chaotically as I lead the group in the anthem I just made up in response to today’s game.

It’s been a while since I scored a hat trick, and boy, did it feel good. It felt so fucking good—I can’t help but sing, even if I’m shite at it.

“Oh, piss off, Hart.” I roll my eyes as I push against him. Apparently he’s “too cool” to join in our semantics, whereas the rest of the lads show no hesitation. “Don’t listen to him, boys.” I turn back towards the group. “One more time. Let’s take it from the top, shall we?”

The group nods as we dance around the changing room, jumping up and down like a bunch of goons as we sing, “We’re the best. We’re the best. We’re the fucking best. So sod to all the rest, ‘cause we’re the bloody?—”

“ Wilks! ” It’s Delaney’s voice who cuts us short, projecting louder than ever as she shouts out my name from behind the changing room door.

“Uh oh, someone’s in trouble,” someone snickers from behind me, prompting the group to break into laughter.

“Shut it,” I quiet them down. “Yeah, Delaney? What’s up?” I call back out seriously.

“Do you mind coming out back when you’re ready?” She requests. “I’ve got a surprise waiting for you.”

The room erupts into a mixture of ooo’s as it becomes clear that the lads are trying to insinuate that I’ve got some sort of sexual surprise waiting for me with Delaney’s request.

I roll my eyes. They’re delusional. There’s no way Delaney would set something like that up, let alone think that Coach would allow anything of that caliber to take place at the stadium.

Coach is old school—it almost makes it hard to believe he was once like us—young, reckless, horny …

“The only love you should think about when you're on the field is your love of winning,” Coach once told us. “Keep all your other desires at home.”

I have to roll my eyes. Coach is a bit of a hypocrite—the guy literally fell in love with Delaney in this very stadium, and Christ, I wouldn’t be surprised if they conceived their baby-to-be here, too.

Lord knows I’ve caught them post-action before, coming from this spot as I rinse my body off in the shower.

Thanks for ruining a once-magical place, Coach.

“I wonder what the surprise is.” Green thinks out loud as I make my way back towards my station, tossing him a brand new deodorant stick that I didn’t forget to replace.

“Who knows?” I run a towel over my sopping-wet hair. “Maybe it’s something to reward me for having the most goals this season?” I can’t help but humbly brag.

Green playfully rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright. Get off your high horse.” Green throws a t-shirt over his head. “But congrats, Wilks. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, mate.” I nod, interlocking our hands as one as he throws his duffle bag over his shoulder with the other. “Good game today, too, by the way.” I point in his direction. “You’re fucking smashing it out there. The way you defended Shaw from taking that shot on net— nasty .”

Green lights up at my praise. He’d never admit it, but he’s a boss on the field and the only guy on this team who I’d ever want to be my backup in my absence as captain.

“It was pretty good, wasn’t it?” He egotistically smirks. “I’ll send you a video of it later.”

“Can’t wait.” I sarcastically remark as I turn back towards my station and refocus on getting dressed.

“Hey, Wilks?” Green calls out my name once more.

I lift my head up from the ground as I shove my heel into my shoe. “Yeah?” I ask.

“You never said how your date went the other night. Did it go well, mate?”

Green’s question is the first time I’m reminded of Chelsie post-game—though it was only a matter of time. Somehow, she always inevitably takes over my thoughts.

“It was good,” I tell him, trying to be as minimal with the details as possible, even though I know Green isn’t the type to gossip. “Things are a little complicated right now, though,” I admit. “So, to be honest with you, I don’t really know where we stand.”

“Are you sure about that?” Green raises a doubtful brow. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure that I saw someone sitting with Hazel during the game that looked a whole lot like your bird.”

I stand up from the bench, reaching for my bag. “What? You did?”

“Blonde? Short? Round cheeks?”

I swallow as he vaguely describes only a few of Chelsie’s many recognizable features.

“That’s her, right?”

I don’t know what to respond—how to respond. Would Chelsie have really come to our game? Is she the surprise?

“Listen, maybe I’m wrong.” Green shrugs before my thoughts can escalate. “It might not have been her. But I’m glad things went well. Hopefully, you’re able to sort out that… complicatio n.” He pats my back before walking out of the changing room. “Catch you later.”

I’m left chewing down on my bottom lip in thought until I muster up some strength, secure my bag even tighter on my shoulder, and pulse my way out of the door.

The stadium’s hallways are crowded, and I’m stopped a few times to be congratulated on our win until finally, I manage to exit out back, but before I can even begin to search for Delaney… for Chelsie, my senses are overwhelmed by a crowd of people who chant my name.

I’m quickly guided to the gate by one of Delaney’s PR interns, who encourages me to take pictures with the fans while she films them for social media.

I don’t mind—like I said, we’re nothing without the fans. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that people have been waiting for me to come out back. Some have even been brought to tears of joy as I hug them through the gate or sign off on their Crawfield merchandise.

“Wilks! Over here. Over here, Wilks,” a group of ladies call out my name, desperately demanding my attention as they grasp at me through the gate.

I look back over at the PR intern, who gestures her head in their direction, encouraging me to work my way over—I comply.

“Hello, ladies,” I greet them one by one as they immediately clutch onto my arm, my body, and the neck of my shirt and pull me in close— tight.

“Hey! Back up!” One of the security guards who’s responsible for looking out for us tells them with an abrupt tone in his voice.

“It’s alright,” I try to calm him, gently removing their hands from my body with a playful laugh. “It’s okay. Now, what can I do for you ladies?”

“Can you sign this for me, Wilks?” They waste no time pushing a Crawfield jersey in my face.

“Sure thing,” I’m quick to oblige as I sign along the number thirteen on the back of the shirt.

“Can we get a selfie, Wilks?” The next girl requests, unlocking her phone and handing it over to me. I take it from her hand and snap the selfie between the gates—her face red with excitement as I hand it back to her. “You’re the best. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t sweat it.” I’m about ready to break away and begin my search when the final lady presses her body up against the fence, her breasts pooling out of her top…

Lord have mercy.

“Mind giving me an autograph, too?” she asks, suggestively running her hand up and down my arm in temptation.

“Um… sure?” I respond with a wince. “What is it that you uh—want me to sign?” I ask, clueless as to what memorabilia she’s brought, when all of a sudden, she hands me a marker and gently taps along her cleavage line.

The memorabilia is her own.

I gulp. “Seriously?” I gesture towards her breasts.

“Mhm.” She confidently nods her head with a strong pout of her lips. “Right here.”

I clear my throat, undoing the lid of the marker as I lean in to sign against her chest.

“Don’t be afraid to go a bit lower.” She clutches a hold of my hand and drags the marker down so that it’s in the line of her cleavage. “There.” She releases her grasp with a wink. “That’s much better.”

I continue my signature, heat rising to my cheeks, when all of a sudden I hear my name get called out from behind me. This time, I know it’s not a fan.

Fuck.

“Uh, Wilks?” Delaney prompts me to turn over my shoulder, where not only can I see a questionable look on her face, but I can see a flustered Chelsie by her side, with her eyes honed in on the fact that my hand is still on top of this woman’s chest.

Shit.

I pull back, snapping the lid on top of the marker before I quickly hand it back to her.

Green was right. It was Chelsie. She came.

“I can come back later if now isn’t a good time?” Chelsie murmurs beneath her breath, ready to break away, but I gently clutch onto her wrist.

“No,” I tell her, pacing my way to her side. “I’m sorry about that. It’s just?—”

“A part of the job?” She raises a suspecting brow, though there’s a hint of playfulness in her tone, relieving me entirely.

“I can assure you that I’ve never seen him do that before,” Delaney jumps in, acting as my certified wingwoman as she pats my shoulder. “And that he’ll never do it again.” She squeezes tightly. “Right, Wilks?”

Chelsie laughs, and the sound alone makes me laugh. It’s just the feeling I need before the two of us are left staring at one another absentmindedly.

“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Delaney takes a step back as the crowd slowly clears from around the gate, leaving the two of us standing in silence as I watch Chelsie’s hair fall in front of her face, left mesmerized by the glimmer of her skin until she flashes me a saddened look.

“What did you come by to tell me yesterday?” she asks, picking at the few strands of hair that have stuck to the lip gloss that lines her bottom lip.

“I… I just came by to talk, Chelsie,” I try to explain. “I mean, that’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do— talk .”

She twists a sparkly ring on her index finger. “And if we were to have talked…” She peers up at me in thought. “What would you have said?”

The pressure builds as I release a breath. “Well,” I begin, loosening the collar of my shirt. “I would've started by telling you that I didn’t mean for things to escalate the way they did the other night. You were right, Chelsie. Things were moving too quickly.” It’s hard to maintain consistent eye contact with her without completely faltering in her view. “But, I really like you. I do. So much so that it clouded my judgment. I started to act like Wilks, not Gary.”

She swallows deeply, leaving me with no other choice than to shamefully stare down at the ground until all at once, she raises my chin up.

Her hands are soft, and instantly, I melt into her.

“You know, Wilks isn’t half-bad,” she admits, pulling back with a smile. “At least what I saw out there today proved that to be true.”

Today’s game was a remarkable feeling—and now, knowing that she was there, I can understand why. There was something special in the crowd. It’s like instinctively, I knew she was here, bringing luck to me in every possible way.

I bite down on my lip. “Tell me,” I’m curious to see where this question leads us. “What did you come here today to say to me? I thought you needed some time to think?”

I watch as she toys with an answer until finally, she seems to settle on one with a breath. “I did, but all that thinking brought me back to the same conclusion…”

I raise a brow.

“I like you, Gary. I like you a lot. The other night, when things escalated. I just got scared. All of this…” She gestures between the two of us as my heart inflates. “I don’t know. I’ve just never had something feel so… so…”

“Right?” I finish her sentence for her, watching as her face softens, and she faintly nods.

“But scary at the same time,” she continues. “I don’t know what to expect from you, Gary.” She tilts her head in thought. “You’re this big Crawfield star who the ladies love, and I’m… I’m…”

“ You .” We continue to finish each other's sentences.

There’s a look of disappointment in her eyes as they drop towards the ground. “Yeah, I’m just… me .”

Now I’m the one tilting her chin upwards, looking right into those beautiful blue eyes, wishing I’ll never have to look away.

“And tell me, what the hell is wrong with that, huh? Because frankly,” I admit. “When I look at you, all I can see is this magnificent girl who, time and time again, I seem to blow my chances with. I’m no star, love. I’m far from it. Hell, I don’t even like the word, but when I’m with you… you make me feel like I’m one. You make me feel special because whatever this is between the two of us, it is special. It’s real.”

She rests her head in my hand as I caress along the soft of her cheek until, eventually, she interlaces our hands as one. “I’m sorry for how I left things the other night. For running off,” her voice is quiet but loud enough so that I can hear her. “It's a bad habit of mine, one that I need to break out of.”

“Love.” I squeeze her hand softly, tenderly bringing it up to my lips to plant a kiss. “The only place I need you to stop running… is through my mind.”

She laughs. She smiles. She rolls her eyes playfully as she blushes. “Gosh, Gary.” She can hardly look at me, but I love it. “That was embarrassingly cheesy.”

“I know, but I couldn’t help it,” I admit. “I just missed that smile…” My innermost thoughts come outwards as I hold back on my desire to brush my thumb along her lower lip. “I’ve missed it more than you know.”

“Oh, I think I know,” she responds. “‘Cause your sense of humor?" She says sheepishly. “I’ve missed that too.”

As the sun sets on the horizon, we’re left staring at one another just like we were when this all began, a beckon of new beginning looming.

“Do you think we can give this another go?” I can’t help but ask, brushing my hand through her golden hair. “On your terms, with your lead?” I propose. “I want to make this work, Chelsie,” I tell her. “I do.”

She tugs on her lower lip before, all at once, she’s back to staring into my eyes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

I start to smile—I start to smile so wide that it hurts my cheeks when I do, Christ, and when Chelsie does the same, it almost pains me not to pull her in and crash my lips against hers.

“What are you thinking about?” She catches onto the fact that I’m no longer looking into her eyes but left fixated on her rosy lips.

I swallow as I meet her stare. “Just that if I wasn't letting you take the lead, that I’d kiss you right now.”

Her breath hitches in the back of her throat as she stares up at my lips. “Well then…” she breathes, clutching onto the collar of my shirt before she pulls me in for a kiss. “It’s a good thing that I am.”