"So you don't get goals?" Her brow furrows. "Don't you want to? Like isn't that all the glory?"
"I've had some goals. Usually, in a penalty shoot-out. I've got an eighty-seven percent success rate with penalty kicks. But it's not all about the goals. Football is truly a team effort, and we're all out there for the ninety minutes, killing ourselves for the team."
"And you don't like to run? Don't you go running, like, every day?"
"It's not that I don't like to run. In fact, I'm quite fast, which is why they want to move me to midfield. But I'm also older now, and it's a lot more wear and tear on the body."
"How old are you? I feel like I should know that."
"You probably should. I'm twenty-seven. My birthday's in May."
"Oh, does this make me a cougar? I turned thirty in August. I hope that's not too much of a scandal for you."
I laugh, glad Ophelia seems at ease again. "If that's the most scandalous thing, then I think we're all set. We just have to keep the fact that we got married for nefarious reasons off the radar."
Ophelia sighs. "Well, I think some of that might be taken care of."
I glance over to see her on her phone. She holds it up close to her face as if every detail of what she's watching is important. "What is it?"
She turns her phone to me. "Apparently, someone at Sam Adams recognized me. They tagged me in this."
It's us, kissing.
After a moment, watching the five-second clip play several times, I say, "At least it doesn't look fake."
It doesn't. Not at all, and I probably owe Ophelia an apology for getting carried away. I didn't realize I'd used that much tongue. "Look, about what happened…"
Ophelia's watching the video again. "This is perfect, really. I didn't have to post something that could be construed as being fabricated for social media, yet here it is. Do you want me to tag you in the comments?"
"I'm not sure you should respond either way. Perhaps give it a moment." The idea of getting married for the wrong reason is hard enough to swallow. The thought of capitalizing on it for social media benefits turns my stomach.
I glance over at Ophelia, illuminated by the street lights, to see she has a smug expression on her face. "What?" I ask. "What's got you so pleased?"
She looks startled as if she forgot I was sitting right next to her in the back of the Uber. "Oh, nothing, I was just thinking about my … a book. A book I'm reading."
I'm not sure what she's up to, but I'm fairly certain whatever she's thinking about has nothing to do with some fluffy romance novel.
Chapter 29: Ophelia
All I need to do is commit every single moment of this night to memory so I can write it down as soon as I get home. If not the events then my emotions. I try to take occasional notes on my phone, but I don't want to draw suspicion.
I mean, how do you even begin to process a kiss like that?
For the record, it was the kind of kiss I've only ever read about or seen in the movies. I legit thought that toe-curling was hyperbole.
Now I know a toe-curling kiss is a very real thing.
The thing I can't figure out is how he could kiss me like that, so tender yet intense, without meaning it. Because, obviously, he didn't mean it. It wouldn't have even happened if the people in the bar hadn't put us on the spot.
I mean, obviously, Xavier is hot. Like, super hot. That's not even a fact one can debate. And he is actually very thoughtful. A bouquet and a ring? My heart is still fluttering thinking about that. Most guys wouldn't think of those things even with explicit directions. But he's made it clear that he's focused on his career and his career only. This is a business deal for him. The only way he can keep playing, the only thing that matters. He's not looking for more.
It's fine. I don't need more. I just need enough to write my story and get started on that dream. Xavier isn't the only one with career goals.
Out of habit, I check ClikClak again. I've long since turned off the notifications, but I can't help myself from looking to see what people are saying.
Isn't that the #romanticsurprise girl?
Well, she moved on quickly.
