I step out of the locker room, tossing a towel into the bin with a flick of the wrist. Matt and his crew are standing in the hallway, waiting.
Brilliant.
I slow my pace, already bracing myself for the performance I’ll have to put in. I’ve been exceptionally skilled at avoiding him, slipping into the shower when his film crew walks in, needing to have a meeting with the gaffer about strategy whenever I see his face.
He spots me before I have the chance to pivot.
“Bradshaw!” he calls out, voice bright with artificial charm. “Can I have a minute for some post-match questions?”
I glance toward the exit, weighing my options.
Bolt or behave.
But then I see her.
Addison stands off to the side, arms crossed, talking with Alan but watching me closely.
When our eyes meet, her face is clear—please don’t make this harder.She doesn’t have to say it. She doesn’t need to. Her eyes tell me all I need to know. She’s pleading with me not to make a scene. Just play along, grin and bear it.
I grit my teeth and walk over.
“Yeah,” I mutter, voice rough around the edges.
Matt’s smile widens. “Great game today. Total team effort, but you were in top form. What’s your headspace like right now?”
Fucking Christ. That’s a loaded question. My headspace is full ofher. Can’t say that.
“Focused,” I say as dry and professional as I can. “We trained hard this week. It felt good to see it pay off.”
He nods, like that was a boring answer. “Has there been a change in the locker room? Something to light this fire in you?”
I blink. I glance at Addison and notice the tension in her jaw. “We’ve all stepped up. We’re gelling really well together. I think the results speak for themselves.”
Nice try, asshole.
“Alright. Last one, and I’ll let you go. Any personal goals this season?”
I glance at Addison. She gives me the tiniest shake of her head. He’s pushing too far, but I’m not going to let him break me.
“Win,” I say simply. “My focus is to win it all.”
Matt frowns. “Bradshaw, that’s not much to go on. How do you see your role? Your style?”
Time to have some fun.
“Well,” I say, thickening my voice with a Cockney flair. “I just try to use my loaf of bread to drown out the box of toys. Would you Adam and Eve it?”
Matt’s face scrunches in confusion. “I’m sorry. What?”
I smirk, eyes narrowing. “Oi, don’t worry, bruv.” I give him an over-energetic, over-friendly slap on the back. “You look like a proper Berkeley Hunt.”
Matt chuckles, confused because he can’t understand a word I’ve said. He can’t be too surprised given my reputation for hating interviews. He nods and heads off down the hall, chasing down Carlos. Addison pivots and follows, knowing Carlos is always good for a sound bite she might have to walk back.
I’m sprawled across my couch, half-watching the telly, with a beer in one hand and my phone in the other. I chat a little back and forth with Mum. She texted me to let me know she watched the match and that I played well.
It’s late and quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your mind wander. Just when I’m about to finally settle on something to watch, Addison’s face lights up on my screen.
Addison:Great match today.
