Page 80 of Forbid It

Although I was sad to leave Cassie, it does feel fucking good to be back on the pitch. It’s like over the last week something switched in the team: passes are connecting, plays are being carried out, and there’s a positive energy that’s buzzing, even though we’re all exhausted.

“Big dog is in,” Santi says in a low voice.

I squint in the direction of the managers, the white shirts and slacks on the pitch a stark contrast to our all-black training kit.

I recognize Hamilton immediately. From this far away, I can’t see any resemblance to Cassie, but it doesn’t mean I’m not keenly aware that this is her father.

Her father, who doesn’t know that she sent me a very inappropriate text message just before I arrived.

“What does he want?” Santi asks. I’m glad it’s not just me who isn’t used to this much input from upper management.

I keep my head down, fiddling with the hem of my shirt to wick the sweat away from my eyes. Maybe he won’t even notice, maybe he doesn’t want to speak to me, maybe he⁠—

“King.”

Fuck.

Santi raises his eyebrows and mouths, “good luck” as he passes.

“Mr Hamilton.”

“I was just saying to Flo here”—Flo?—“you boys are looking good out there.”

“Thank you, it’s coming together.” I cross my arms across my chest and widen my stance. I can talk football. I can talk football for as long as I have the ability to form words. As long as he doesn’t mention⁠—

“I was telling Cassie how good you’re looking.”

I nearly choke on air. What do I say to that? Yes, sir she certainly knows. She’s seen a lot of me. Has he spoken to her already? Does he know where she is?

I’m still trying to form words when Florent takes pity on me. “We’ll be looking good for our game against Seattle.”

I let myself launch into tactics with Florent and Mario, our strategy coach, barely looking Hamilton in the eye.

Finally, he is pulled away by his assistant, and I release the breath that’s been stuck in my lungs as soon as he’s out of sight.

“Go change out, King,” Florent tells me with a shrewd look in his eye.

I nod and wave goodbye. By the time I’m in the locker room, it’s just me. I didn’t lie to management, the team is doing better in practice. It’s just during the game that we all fall apart.

After I’ve showered and changed into my regular clothes, adrenaline from the practice and my interaction with Hamilton is finally leaving my blood stream.

I pull my phone from my cubby and see a message from Cassie.

CASSIE

How’s rehearsal?

I chuckle as I sling my bag across my shoulder and slide into my shoes.

ME

You mean training? It was good

She sent her message nearly an hour ago, so I’m not expecting a reply straight away, but I’ve barely let the stadium doors swing shut when my phone buzzes.

CASSIE

Tomato, tomato. How’s Cali?