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“Don’t let him get to you.” A husky voice pulls my attention from Jordan’s disappearing back. I look over to see a beautiful pixie-looking woman with dark brown hair and warm hazel eyes smiling at me. Finally! A friendly face. “He always looks like he’s sucking on a lemon.”
I let out a relieved laugh. “Right? I thought it was just me who brought that out in him?”
She shakes her head, her short bob swinging wildly as she does so. “He’s a bit of a jerk. But an excellent manager, apparently. At least that’s what Robbie tells me. I’m Gen, by the way. I’m married to Robbie, the captain of the team.”
We shake hands, and I take a couple of steps closer to her. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to be stuck to her like glue tonight. “I’m Natalie.”
She grins, a bright smile that makes her even more beautiful. “I know who you are. You’re the major topic of conversation in our WAG text group.”
There’s that word again. “WAG?”
Her nose scrunches up. Again, delightful. “It’s what ‘they,’ the media, the public, the fans, call us. The Wives and Girlfriends of sport stars.”
Ah, that clears that up.
“And you have a group chat? About me?”
She tilts her head to her left. I follow her gaze to see a group of women, all beautiful and beautifully put together, looking at me. Correction, looking down their noses at me. Gulp.
“We’re just curious about the woman who’s finally snagged Matthew’s heart.”
My churning stomach twists. Do I need to get a prescription for antacids? Because this can’t be healthy. “We’ve just started dating,” I demur. “No need to read too much into it.”
Gen spears me with a knowing look. “You’re the first woman he’s ever invited to a game. So, we’re all reading everything into it.”
Damn it, Matthew, I curse him silently. This is something I probably should have known before entering the lion’s den. Or the lioness’s den, as the case may be.
“Well,” I stutter, rubbing my hands together for lack of anything else to do with them. “I probably should put this on.” I hold up the soccer jersey that Jordan had given me and Gen smiles.
“Follow me.” She leads me to a private bathroom, where I make quick work of changing out of my t-shirt into the yellow-and-green Socceroos jersey with “BARKLY” and the number four embroidered on the back. It’s an extra-large and I’m swimming in it.
So long, carefully chosen blue t-shirt. I put it in my bag with a sigh. What a monumental waste of time painstakingly choosing that outfit was.
“You look great,” Gen enthuses as I emerge, draped in the giant shirt. “Here, let me fix this.” She masterfully ties the top at the front, taking the look from child-wearing-grown-up-clothes to something both cute and sexy, and I’m grateful she’s here to guide me through this. Otherwise, I would have worn it as is; like a giant blanket. “Let’s just finish the look and we can get ready for kick-off.”
She pushes me into a seat and takes her make-up case out of her bag. With her brows furrowed with concentration, she paints something on my cheek. Once done, she pulls me over to the mirror to show me her handy work.
“Matthew will love it. All the men do.”
I stare at my reflection. Specifically, at the number four she’d drawn on my cheek in bright yellow face paint. Wonderful, I’ve officially been branded.
“Now, you do me.”
I take the yellow paint from her outstretched hand and pause.
“You don’t know what number the captain is, do you?” she laughs and I feel silly. Maybe a little homework before turning up tonight would have been a good idea. “He’s number one.”
Duh. I could have figured that out. “Sorry,” I murmur as I carefully draw the number one on her cheek. “This is all really new for me.”
“Don’t worry, hon,” she pats my hand. “None of this really matters. I’m just thrilled that Matthew has you in his life now.”
Again with the churning, twisting stomach. “It’s really new.”
“I know. But Matthew was over at our place yesterday, and he wouldn’t stop talking about you. On and on about how smart you are, how caring you are, how you’re studying to be a nurse. He’s completely smitten with you.”
There’s that word again. Matthew is playing his part a little too well. We’re going to need him to dial it back a bit.
“He’s a great guy,” I say, stepping back to admire my work. “He’s always been a great guy.”
