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I don’t want to look away because seeing her on the pitch—her cheeks pink from exertion and her shorts pulled up high,exposing more of her long, tanned legs—has my imagination running wild.
“Yeah.” Bridget grins, following my eye line to her best friend. From the look she gives me, she knows the direction my thoughts have begun to wander. “She’s one of our best. For a while, I was worried about her. She seems happier today though… and so do you.”
Before I get a chance to dissect that statement, the whistle blows announcing Wearside Women have won two–nil and all I can think of is getting to the sidelines as quickly as possible.
“Looks like you’re our good luck charm,” Mel says happily when I arrive at the dugout with Bridget. The team swarm their coach with hugs and cheek kisses, and she laughs throughout like a proud parent.
Natasha is last off the pitch. The excited smile she had a moment ago is nowhere to be seen as she scans the family and friend’s stand.
Is she looking for me? Could I be that lucky?
“Congratulations, you won!” I say proudly, leaning in close from behind so she can hear me. She spins around surprised and a smile lights up her face.
“We won!” she echoes as if she can’t quite believe it herself. Laughing happily, she pulls me in for a hug. The scent of her deodorant and the fresh sweat on her skin is intoxicating. I wind my arms around her waist, tugging her closer.
For the longest time I couldn’t even picture myself back in the stadium but here I am. And it feels so right.
“I think I need to add something new to my ritual,” she says, leaning back slightly but not stepping out of our embrace.
“What’s that?” I hold her to me with one hand on her lower back, using the other to tuck a loose strand of hair that’s escaped from her plait behind her ear.
“You.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, only for me to hear. My stomach flutters with anticipation as I watch her tongue gently wet her lips and the urge to claim her with my mouth overwhelms me.
The only coherent thought I can form is that I need this woman more than I need oxygen in my lungs.
I can’t tear my eyes from her mouth. The loud roaring of the stadium drifts into a dull buzz in the background as I move in closer, leaning down ever so slightly. She leans in too, but before I can close the distance and press my lips to hers,Brooke comes bounding over. She wraps us both in a hug before kissing Natasha sloppily on the cheek unaware of what she has interrupted.
Natasha steps back with a shy smile and the absence of her touch makes me ache. As quick as it started, our moment passes.
Chapter Twelve
Natasha
When Luke and I arrive at The Eighteen, a community space/bar hybrid in Sunderland city centre, later that evening, the others are already there waiting for the two of us. Jamie, the owner of the venue, calls us over to take our drinks order and sends us to our usual table in the snug.
Jamie played on the Wearside FC first team until an incident at a game a few years back ended his career. When he opened this place, it became our new local, especially for my friends from the men’s team who get to catch up with Jamie and know they aren’t going to get swarmed by the patrons. It gives them a sense of normalcy when in the outside world they canbarely walk five feet without being recognised and hounded for selfies.
“Everyone, this is Luke Ramshaw. Luke, this is Jordan, Aaron and Bailey,” I point them out one by one and they all hold out a hand for Luke to shake.
“Oh, my ever-living fuck!” Aaron says, his jaw slack as he stares at Luke. “You’re Zero!”
Luke lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, man, that’s me. People in the real world call me Luke though.”
“Shut the fuck up! No way!” Bailey says, standing with his mouth wide open. “It is you!”
Luke gives them a humble smile, as if he’s used to this reaction from people; I on the other hand, am left stunned. Bailey and Aaron are usually the ones getting fawned over, so to see them so starstruck is plain weird.
“Natasha, do you realise your boyfriend is a living fucking legend?” Aaron says. I look between him and Luke. Neither of us react to the boyfriend comment, I’m too stunned by the fact that my friends are fan-boying hard. “We came to your panel at Game Con Northeast a few months ago! It was fucking wild!”
“What is going on right now?” Brooke asks, her head swinging between the lads like she’s watching a tennis match, voicing my question perfectly.
“That zombie game we play all the time that you hate, this guy fucking designed it,” Bailey says excitedly, looking at Brooke as if she’s a fool. “He’s got like eleven million followers on Twitch!”
“I don’t hate it,” Brooke says, trying to recover, but Luke just laughs. “I’m not great with blood and stuff…”
“Honestly, it’s fine, it’s not for everyone,” he says reassuringly.
“So, you’re responsible for hours of torment from these guys then?” Jordan pipes up. “Apparently I suck at your game, and they’ve never let me live it down.”
