He just chuckles. “Come on in. You’re the first one here.”
His flat is… unexpectedly clean. Chic and modern, but lived-in, with a deep navy sofa, shelves crammed with books and football memorabilia, and a massive Ultra HD TV mounted on the wall. The record player in the corner is a nice throwback to times gone by, and I’m surprised to see stacks of actual records beside it. A few mismatched throw pillows soften the otherwise sharp aesthetic.
“Make yourself at home,” Archie says, motioning toward the sofa before sauntering into the kitchen. “What’ll it be? Beer? Wine? Sparkling elderflower?”
“I’ll take the elderflower, if you have it,” I say with a smirk, slipping off my shoes and scanning the framed photos on the console from left to right. Him and Finn on the pitch. Him and Wade with big smiles, standing near the net. Him in a verdant park with his mother and brother. Him holding what looks like a trophy.
“So, what’s this trophy?” I ask when he comes back with my drink.
Before he can reply, the buzzer rings.
“Champions League,” he says, walking over to the door, but it flies open before he can reach it.
Finn barrels in headfirst. “Where’s the lemonade?” he says by way of greeting.
“In the fridge. Same place it was last season,” Archie deadpans.
Callum shuffles in behind him, grumbling. “You’d think the bloke’s legs would need a rest after a full ninety.”
Millie skips in after him, followed by Cameron, Wade, and Roxy, who shoots me a bright smile. It’s a good thing she’s here. This whole situation is a little unnerving.
Everyone gathers around the coffee table—I find a seat next to Archie—and soon, snacks are being passed around, ice is clinking in glasses, and legs are stretched out over cushions like they own the place. The conversation naturally shifts to the match.
“Did you see the way Finn nearly tripped over his own feet trying to score that goal?” Callum grunts, cracking open a can of something fizzy.
Finn lifts his lemonade in a mock salute. “Still scored, didn’t I? Unlikesomeof us who let Wexford waltz right through the backline in the first five seconds of the game.”
Callum snorts. “You try defending with Wade yelling instructions at you like some possessed animal.”
Wade holds up both hands. “Hey! I was givingstrategic guidance.”
Archie chuckles. “Yeah, I didn’t catch a word you said either, mate.”
More laughter ripples through the group, and I find myself smiling, easing into the rhythm of it.
Before Wade can defend himself, the door opens again.
“Ah. There she is,” Finn calls toward the hallway without looking.
“Thought maybe you’d forgotten his address.” Cameron sits up straighter, scooting toward the side of his sofa to clear a space for Fallon.
“She refuses to take the shortcut,” Archie murmurs into my ear, the warmth of his breath brushing my skin.
I shiver as goosebumps erupt over every inch of my body.
“So, this is the big post-match ritual, huh?” I ask the group, hoping to distract myself from the heat radiating from Archie. “Not what I would have guessed from the other end of the corridor.”
“Yeah,” Finn says, scratching his chin. “You were probably set on a rager with stripteasers or something. Definitely not our style.”
Everyone chuckles at that.
“Please,” Millie says. “The wildest we get is when someone double dips in the hummus.”
“I still have nightmares about that night,” Fallon says with mock seriousness.
“And you getto experience it with the full crew here too,” Archie says. “Fallon only comes after afternoon games, and Callum only started showing up when Millie arrived. As for these two, we haven’t seen them out this way since they had their baby in the spring.” He gestures toward Wade and Roxy.
“Oh, congratulations,” I say with a warm smile. “Can’t be easy juggling all this with a little one.”
