I nod, but it takes a second to find my voice.“Okay.”
20
fouls and misconduct
YOUR POWER BY BILLIE EILISH
“Say when,” Pippa says, pouring wine into my glass. I just watch her in mock silence, perfectly content to let her pour until the glass overflows.
“Addison,” she says, laughing, “I said, say when.”
“Why don’t you just get your own bottle?” I tease.
We’re curled up on her couch in sweats and no makeup. An open pizza box sits on the table between us, and there’s a vanilla candle lit that’s hitting me like a warm hug. She put some rom-com on, but neither of us is paying much attention.
The team is in Swansea for a game, and I opted to stay behind—giving some bullshit story about meetings to tie up here. No one questioned it. It’s all technically true, but it’s not the entire reason.
The real reason is Oliver.
It’s been a week since we got back from Stratton Wood. A week since I felt his breath dangerously close to mine. A week since I almost let myself get swept up in something I promised I’d never do again. But now, my mind keeps replaying every moment in my head—the way he looked at me, the way he called me Addie, the way he talked about Henry.
And the way I almost let him kiss me.
But then I pulled back. I remembered who I am, what I’m doing here, and why I have these rules in the first place.
Every time I have a moment to myself, my mind drifts back to that town. To his childhood bedroom. The framed photo with the wrong last name. The pub. His mum’s roast dinner. The way he told me, “I’ll never let anything happen to you,” like it was the easiest promise he ever made.
For those forty-eight hours, I never thought about Matt. Not once. That scares me the most, because for the last six months, Matt has been my reminder. He’s the burned bridge that’s kept me from crossing into anything safe again. He’s the lesson it took me too long to learn. But I finally learned it, and I built a fortress from it. I wrote rules on the walls and etched them into my bones.
Oliver doesn’t feel like any of that. He feels like standing barefoot in the grass, and yet, I still push him away. I’ve seen this film before, and I’m terrified to give it all away again. I just can’t afford to.
So I hide in London. I work late. I conjure meetings that could have been emails. I keep to myself.
“Ads?” Pippa says, waving her hands in front of my face. “Hello? You still with me, love?”
I blink. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Oh, good, you’re back.” Pippa laughs. “Where’d your mind go just now?”
“Sorry.” I rub my temple and let out an embarrassed laugh. “Just so much going on at work.”
“I get it.” Pippa takes a slow sip of her wine, clearly unconvinced. “How was the weekend away?”
“It was fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah,” I say sharply, making it clear I don’t want to talk about it.
Pippa eyes me like she can smell the cover-up, but chooses not to press further.
“How’s work been since Matt’s return from the underworld?”
“Awful,” I groan, leaning back dramatically against the cushion. “He’s like a rash. Persistent. Irritating. Always showing up where he shouldn’t.”
“Oh, no.” Pippa cackles, her dark curls bouncing as she tips her head back.
“I’m serious, Pips. He’s everywhere.” I gesture dramatically. “Every meeting. Every elevator. Every hallway. It’s driving me mad.”
