A Brit Player

by Brenda St John Brown

  Max nods without hesitation. “Say the word and we’re out of here.”

  “I’m ready to go. I also need to figure out a way to sneak back into my house, but we can do that on the way,” I say.

  “Okay.” Max’s gaze shifts to Satya. “Are you staying? Who are you here with?”

  “I’m here with my brother.” Satya smiles a little, but even through my vodka haze I can see that it’s not a real one. “It’s…unexpected…of you to be concerned.”

  “Point taken.” Max glares at Satya before taking my arm and peeling me slowly off the wall. “Come on. I think we need to stop at the chippy on the way home for you.”

  Max puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to his side. I sigh as I sink into him and Satya says, “Hey, be careful, yeah?”

  I know I need to thank her. Yes, she’s gotten me drunk, but she’s also looked out for me in a way. I lean as close to her as my clutching onto Max will allow and say, “Thank you. You’re a star, you know that? A genuine star.”

  She gives me a wry smile as Max steers me away from the Library and onto the sidewalk home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Max picks me up for dinner in a shiny Range Rover that probably costs as much as my annual salary and he immediately apologizes for it.

  “Before you say anything,” he says as he opens the passenger door for me, “the car belongs to Harris. He’s a good mate who drives a douche car.”

  “He’s a good mate to lend you his douche car.” I ignore Max’s outstretched hand and climb into the passenger seat myself. No way in hell am I touching him and not only because he’ll know how clammy my hands really are. Being shorter than the average fourteen-year-old has its disadvantages – getting gracefully into four-by-fours being one of them – but I manage without flashing Max my crotch in the process, which I consider a win.

  “He’s out on his date tonight with Caroline. She has a driver, you know.” Max grins as he shuts the door and I laugh. I don’t know which one of the blingy girls Caroline is, but the fact that any of them would have a driver isn’t shocking.

  Max slips into the driver’s seat beside me, and though we’ve never been in a car together, it feels normal to see him across the leather console, his strong hands wrapped around the steering wheel. He shuts the door and his scent swirls in the air – that unique Max scent of soap, sun, and boy.

  Except this Max is no boy.

  His grey trousers pull over muscular thighs and his light blue dress shirt is rolled up at the cuffs, exposing ropy forearms dusted with fine hair dyed blond by the sun. He has the slightest hint of stubble on his cheeks that makes him more attractive instead of less. When I look up, his eyes are crinkled at the corners, although he’s not smiling outright.

  “You see something you like there, T?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as he maneuvers the car into gear and starts down the pebbled drive leaving Castle Calder.

  “Nope.” I let my lips purse to make a popping sound on the P. “You?”

  “Fishing, are you?” Max raises his eyebrows and laughs. “You know you’re gorgeous, but I’m happy to tell you. It’s been a while.”

  “It has been a while. Life is treating you well, I assume?” I gloss right over Max’s compliment. I’m not sure we should be going there ever, but definitely not so early in the evening.

  “Life is good.” Max nods. “I mean, I’d be a knobhead to complain about getting everything I ever wanted, right?”

  “Right, but you’re allowed to change your mind. Is that disappointment I hear?”

  “No. Honestly, football’s great. I love it. Do I love everything about it? No, but that’s the same with every job, right? Do you love everything about your job?” Max turns to me. “Where are you working now?”

  “I’m an architect. I work for Scarlett’s boyfriend, actually.”

  “Cool. Is that how they met? Did you play matchmaker?” Max asks with an easy grin. Thank God he’s making this easy. It almost makes me feel like I can do this.

  Almost.

  “No, she used to work there, too, and they had a bit of a fling. When it turned serious, she left to work somewhere else. They’re great together.”

  “Cool.” Max nods. “What about you? Are you with anyone these days?”

  Now I understand. He’s acting like we’re old friends who’ve lost touch. There are far worse things, so why does it make my stomach feel like someone’s twisted a corkscrew through it? Still, maybe it’s better than the angsty alternative.

  The last thing I want is to talk about Tom with Max, so I shake my head and say, “No. You?”

  “Nah.”

  I wait for Max to elaborate, but he doesn’t. I should leave it. I didn’t want to talk about this in the first place, but I can’t help prodding. “Oh, come on. Surely there’s no shortage of women vying to be WAGs?”

  “Been there, done that. Believe it or not, it gets old.” Max rolls his eyes. “Not to purposely change the subject, but what kind of food do you fancy? I made a reservation at Kelsey’s on the Lake, but I don’t know if you have any strict food rules.”

  “My only food rule is and always will be no oysters or Brussels sprouts. Anything else is fine.”

  “Right. Oysters because you don’t want to puke and Brussels sprouts because they smell like feet.” Max taps the side of his head. “See? I remember.”

  Not only does Max remember, he remembers word for word. It’s both surprising and disconcerting. Before I can ask him what else he remembers, I reach over and flick on the radio. I’m not ready to walk down Memory Lane with him. I might never be ready.

  Max immediately turns it down. “You’re going to need hearing aids by the time you’re thirty if you listen at that volume.”

  “Uh, I think that was you with your headphones.” I laugh. “Remember Mr. Cavallini? He was convinced you were doing irreparable damage to your ears daily.”

  “You know I saw him? I went back to do a football clinic and ran into him while I was there. He was cool, actually. He knew all my stats, which I didn’t expect. He said he’s followed my career since I left.”

  Unlike me. I’m not even sure what position Max plays.

  The thought sobers me. There was a reason I cut Max out of my life and didn’t follow his football career, and part of it was this easy familiarity that makes me feel like it hasn’t been twelve years since we’ve seen each other but twelve minutes. It was bigger than that, of course, but in this moment, it feels like a big thing.

  Not the biggest thing, of course. But I can’t think about that if I want to have a prayer of getting through this evening.

  I’m so deep in my feelings I hardly hear Max when his low voice says, “I’ve missed you, you know. A lot.”

  I nod and give the only answer I can. “Yeah. I know.”

  Me, too, Max. Me, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Twelve Years Ago

  I wish I could say I confessed my feelings to Max on the way home from the Library and it was the start of something epic. Or that I confessed my feelings to Max and it was the end of everything. In either of those scenarios, I at least confessed my feelings for Max.

  I did neither of those things and my feelings for Max – now that I’ve acknowledged them – are consuming me.

  Truth be told, I don’t remember a lot about Saturday night after the party. Or rather, all of my memories are of me sniffing Max’s leather jacket and losing my footing, in that order. I don’t remember getting home, though everyone in my family is still speaking to me, so it can’t have been that bad. Part of me wonders if I did confess my feelings to Max and he’s assuming I was too drunk to remember, but I can’t make myself believe that.

  Until he shows up at Bailey’s Jewelers five minutes before my break time on Thursday night. I’m helping an elderly man at the till who’s paying for a bracelet for his wife. I don’t see Max, but I hear him.

  “Can I help you, young man?” Alice says.

  “I’m a
ctually here to see Tara Kapoor.” Max’s voice sounds tentative and my gaze shoots up.

  “She should be done in a moment if you want to take a seat?” Alice offers.

  “No thank you. I’ll take a look around.” Max gives Alice a smile and shuffles over to one of the display cases.

  Alice raises her eyebrows at me in a question that I don’t know how to answer. My heart rate triples and my hands shake as I give the customer his receipt, but my focus is on Max’s back as he wanders around the store. What’s he doing here? I didn’t realize he knew where I worked and coming to see me at work feels serious.

  Oh my God, what if it’s something with my family?

  As soon as I think it, I realize how ridiculous that is. Despite living down the street from me, Max and I have never been to each other’s houses, and I’m not sure he could pick my parents out of a crowd. So for him to be the bearer of bad news on that front is a ridiculous thought.

  As the man I was helping stuffs his receipt into his wallet and shuffles off, I lock the till and come around the counter. What starts off as me striding across the floor towards Max ends with me shuffling more slowly than the man who bought the bracelet on my final approach. Max meets my eyes in the mirror and spins around when I’m about two feet from him.

  “Hey. How are you?” He grins like him being here is no big deal.

  “Fine.” I nod slowly and bite my lip. “How are you?”

  “Yeah, good. Really good.” Max’s grin widens. He shuffles his feet but doesn’t say anything else, which is more confusing.

  “Great.” I’m still nodding like a broken bobble head and force myself to stop. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was at the mall and I figured I’d stop by to say hi.”

  “You know, Tara has her break now if you two want to escape to the food court for a bit,” Alice says from behind the diamond counter.

  “That would be great,” Max says. “You want to grab a Nando’s?”

  “Uh…”

  Before I can say anything else Max says, “My treat?”

  “Have I entered some parallel universe where you’re showing up at my job and offering to buy me food?” I bite my lip harder. The good thing about my confusion is that my heart has stopped beating triple time.

  “Maybe.” Max shrugs. “But you know what they say. Don’t look a gift horse, right?”

  “I know literally no one who says that.” I roll my eyes a little and grin. “Give me two seconds to grab my bag and then I’d love a Nando’s.”

  I head back towards the break room – which is really a glorified closet with a table and a coffee maker – and Alice follows. She glances back at Max, still studying the necklaces, before whispering, “Who is that?”

  “A guy I go to school with. His name is Max Foster,” I say.

  “He’s dishy.” Alice wriggles her eyebrows.

  “We’re friends.” I say this firmly, as much to Alice as to myself.

  “None of my so-called friends have ever shown up and taken me for an impromptu dinner.” Alice gives a sharp nod like this decides something. “If you need a little longer, I’ll be here. Nando’s can be slow sometimes.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. Are you sure you don’t mind?” I ask as I grab my purse out of my cubby.

  “Are you kidding?” Alice grins. “I’m doing it in exchange for all the details, of course.”

  “You realize there won’t be any?”

  “Don’t be so sure, lovely.” Alice winks at me. “Don’t be so sure.”

  I’ve got Alice’s words in the back of my head as Max and I head to Nando’s. As high school date spots go, Nando’s is pretty up there. It’s got decent inexpensive food, but it’s a step above McDonald’s. I’ve never been on a Nando’s date, and I have a hard time reminding myself this isn’t one. Especially when Max waits for me to sit down before he takes his seat across from me after the hostess shows us to our table.

  “So, what brings you to the mall?” I ask after we’ve ordered.

  “What? What do you mean?” Max asks.

  “I mean, you said you were at the mall, so you figured you’d stop by Bailey’s.” I tilt my head. “What are you doing here? Buying new football boots?”

  “Oh. Right. No.” Max pushes his hair back from his forehead and with that one gesture my nervousness comes back. “I actually came to see you.”

  “Okay.” There goes my heart rate again. Max and I walked home from school together four hours ago and everything was fine. Better than fine because it was normal, and I thanked the vodka gods – again – that I hadn’t ruined our relationship on Saturday night.

  Max takes a deep breath in. Then another before he blurts out, “Will you go to Shake a Leg with me?”

  “What?” Never mind my heart beating triple time. Suddenly I feel like it’s stopped. Bishop’s Blue Coat has an annual fancy dress dance to celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday at the end of April called Shake a Leg. It’s run by the drama department and it’s the date dance of the year. Couples plan elaborate Shakespeare-themed costumes and there are prizes for best individual costume and best couple costume. Last year, the prize for best individual costume was a fifty-pound gift certificate to Aliya’s Attic, a super cool vintage clothing store in Manchester. Every time Rina and I go shopping in Manchester, we spend at least an hour in Aliya’s Attic.

  “I’m wondering if you’ll consider going to Shake a Leg with me?” Max bites his lip a little. “It doesn’t have to be a date-date, but when I think of who I want to go with, it’s you.”

  “Why?” The minute I say it, I wish I could take it back. “I mean, yes, I’d love to go with you, but I feel like this is weird. What about Amy or Kayla or Sophie?”

  Or the girl he was kissing at the Library? Basically what about anyone but me?

  “What about them?” Max furrows his brow.

  “Well, Shake a Leg is this big couples thing and…” I pause as the waitress sets our drinks down, which gives me the necessary few seconds to get my shit together. If I’m not careful, I’m going to talk Max right out of his invitation. I take a sip of my cola then say, “I’m super surprised.”

  “I think, you know, if this is going to be one of my last high school experiences, I want it to be with someone real, you know?” Quite frankly, I don’t know, which Max must see written all over my face because he says, “There’s no bullshit with you. Like, what you see is what you get.”

  Oh, Max, no, it is not.

  Aloud I say, “Don’t you mean I don’t fall for your bullshit? Or is it that I don’t feed your ego?”

  “Both.” Max’s smile is sheepish. “Everyone treats me like this big football star, except you.”

  “Well, that’s because you’re not a big football star yet.” I stick my tongue out. “When you’ve got your pro contract, then we’ll talk.”

  “It’s going to happen, you know.” Max grins. “Just in case you think it’s not.”

  “Yeah, yeah. And I’ll say I knew you when.” I grin back at him, but my head is racing too much to absorb Max’s words. And those questions I have? His football career isn’t even on the list.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kelsey’s on the Lake is a Windermere hot spot and I’m not surprised to see a couple people I recognize. They’re way more interested in Max than they are in me, but he seems oblivious, which is further proof that this is his life now. I give awkward waves, but Max just follows the hostess to a secluded corner table. The hostess gives Max her best smile and then leaves us our menus with the promise that someone will be over soon to take a drink order.

  “Do you still like vodka?” Max asks.

  I will my cheeks not to turn red, but I’m not sure it works. I do manage to keep myself from smiling, though, as I say, “I’ve been known to have a vodka tonic now and then. You?”

  Max shakes his head. “I don’t drink during the season. Maybe an occasional beer, but nothing more than that. In the summer, I like a decent rosé.”<
br />
  “You what? Rosé? Really?”

  “Hey, don’t be that way.” Max laughs. “I did an ad for a French rosé a couple years ago and what can I say? I became a fan.”

  “You did an ad for French rosé?” I feel like I’m parroting back everything Max is saying, but it’s more that I’m surprised I missed it. I may not follow Max’s career, but it’s hard to miss his endorsements. He was on a damn bus stop near the office a couple years ago promoting trainers. That, I expect. The rosé? Not so much.

  “It only came out in France. I did a watch commercial in Japan, too.” Max smiles. “Foreign advertising is odd, but lucrative.”

  “Do they know who you are in Japan?”

  “Do they know who I am? What kind of question is that?” Max rolls his eyes and laughs, then says, “Honestly, they probably don’t, but the advertising agency did, so they hired me.”

  “So what you’re saying is that you’re kind of a big deal?” I can’t help grinning this time as I ask the question, even though I already know the answer. Max has always been kind of a big deal, even before he was a football star.

  “It’s all relative, right?” Max opens the menu. “Any idea what’s good here?”

  I open the menu and for the next several minutes, we make innocuous conversation about the food. In addition to no alcohol, Max follows a pretty strict diet – lots of veg and protein, not a lot of carbs. I pass on the bread in solidarity, but it means I’m drinking my vodka tonic faster than I should because I have nothing else to do with my hands. It also means I’m drinking on an empty stomach, which isn’t the best idea when I’m out with a guy.

  When I’m out with the guy.

  Shit.

  So much for keeping that thought locked in the vault where it belongs.

  I take a gulp of water and make my voice bright when I say, “So, tell me about life as a famous footballer. Is it everything you hoped it would be?”

  “It’s fine.” Max’s tone is dismissive, but then he lowers his voice and leans across the table. “I don’t really want to talk about football to be honest.”