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An awkward silence hung over the table at first. Probably because Hunter and I were pretty much strangers to everyone at the tables. Even Hunter, Georgia and Isabelle who were family, had some distance between them because they’d spent so little time together. Eventually, and predictably, it was Hunter who broke the tension.
“Okay,” he said, “I think we need an ice breaker.”
Nervousness flashed across Isabelle’s face, as Hunter went on. “We should each think of one question to ask someone else on the table. When everyone’s answered, we should have six different topics of conversation to discuss. What do you say? All this silence is killing me!”
Hunter was well known for his hyperactivity, and I knew if someone didn’t speak up soon, he’d be bouncing around the room in search of someone else to talk to.
“Sounds good to me,” Willow said, a grin spreading across her face. Everyone nodded their agreement, and Willow said, “Can I start?”
“Sure.”
Willow glanced around the table, but her eyes landed on me, twinkling with barely concealed excitement. “What’s Radleigh McCoy like?”
Hunter cracked up, Georgia and Isabelle exchanged confused looks, and Elliott smiled.
“You don’t look like a soccer fan,” I answered, chuckling at the expression on her face.
“Oh, I’m not,” she said. “But, the Westberg Warriors were in England last month, and Radleigh McCoy did a photo shoot in one of my favourite magazines, and … wow.”
It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. McCoy was my hero growing up, so playing with him at Westberg was doubly awesome for me. Playing for a top team, and alongside my idol? Who wouldn’t want that? The thing about him was, he attracted women just by … I don’t know, looking at them, I guess. Girls flocked to him, and he took advantage of it. It was difficult to sum up McCoy’s personality without going into all the messed-up details of his life, but when it came down to it he’d done more good things for me than bad.
“Radleigh McCoy,” I began, with a smile, “is a cool guy. He’s a great team mate.”
Willow tilted her head, sceptically. “Is that the truth, or the ‘proper’ answer you have to give so you don’t sound like a horrible person?”
“The truth,” I laughed. “We don’t hang out or anything, but he’s taught me a lot about the game.”
“Is he married?”
“Dating, and I think he’s pretty serious about her.”
Or, I hope he is.
“Damn.”
“That was three questions,” Georgia said, laughing, “Can I go next? I have something I want to ask Hunter.”
“Shoot,” Hunter said.
“Are you going to try to get into Mischa’s knickers?”
An explosion of laughter erupted around the table, and Hunter said, “Do you think she’d let me?”
“I really do. There was someone at college she had her eye on, but I think she’d rather go for an American boy while she has the chance.”
“Then yes. Yes I am trying to get into her … knickers.”
The word ‘knickers’ in an American accent sounded weird, making everyone laugh again, and Hunter said, “Okay, now Georgia’s lowered the tone, I’m gonna bring it back up a notch. Elliott, what do you do for a living?”
Elliott, who to his credit, was not as square as I first thought, took a sip of his beer, and said, “I’m studying law at university.”
“Awesome! So, you’re gonna be a lawyer like my uncle?”
“I hope so, eventually. If he knew how much partying I did, he might not be as keen to let me date Georgia, but if I keep passing my exams, it should all work out.”
Georgia smiled up at him. “I don’t think Dad could keep me away from you, even if he found out you woke up last weekend with a traffic cone under your bed, and your face in a half-eaten kebab.”
“Stealing traffic cones is a university tradition!”
