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I shoot up from my seat, spilling coffee as I scream his name. He hops to his feet, covered in mud. His teammates pile on him in celebration.
After the game, I hang out in the stands near the benches until Jack returns from the changing room to find me. He looks like a different person after a shower and a change of clothes. All fresh and new and devastatingly handsome with the glow of exertion.
“How was that?” he drawls, leaning against the cement barrier wall that divides the bleachers from the field.
“Not bad.” I give him a coy shrug. “That bit at the end there was cool.”
An unabashed grin colors his expression. “Yeah, you liked that?”
“It was okay.”
“See me tackle that bloke to the ground?”
“I did. He looked quite put out.”
“Bloody right.”
Jack picks me up and lifts me over the wall to set me on the grass. There’s a ball sitting beside the player bench.
Grinning, he picks it up and tosses it at me. “How ’bout we have a go?”
“Trust me. You don’t want any of this.” I juggle the ball, goading him with my eyes.
He stalks me toward the field. “Oh, you think you’re dangerous?”
“Bet your ass.”
“Shall I teach the rules before you go pro?”
“What’s so complicated about hitting people and running with the ball?”
He cocks his head at me, stopping at the edge of the field. “What’s this line called?”
“The sideline.”
“The touchline. And when you put the ball down in that box down there?” he says, referring to the space drawn like a football end zone.
“A touchdown?”
“A try.”
“Score or score not,” I correct, tossing the ball to him. “There is no try.”
“Here.” He walks me to a hash mark on the field and hands me the ball back. “Give it a go.”
“Go at what?”
Jack nods at the uprights. “Go on. Have a penalty kick.”
I snort. “Easy.”
Of course, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I line up my shot the way I watched the guys do in the game. I hold the ball out andtake my best swing at it. I barely graze the thing, and Jack has to catch me from falling on my ass.
He busts out laughing. “Your form could use some work.”
Despite my first attempt, he takes the time to teach me about the rules and terminology as we toss the ball around. He’d make a good coach actually, with his patience to explain things in terms I understand. And he’s a good sport while he takes my occasional ribbing.
“All right, let’s have it.” He puts the ball on the ground between us. “All you’ve got to do is grab it before I do.”
