by Leesa Bow
“Let’s say I’m more of an extrovert when I drink. Things have changed since the good ol’ days, man.” I pat his shoulder. “Most days now, I want to hide away when training is done or surf. I was going to move out on my own last year, but thought it would be a waste of time to move again if I’m relocating in a matter of months.”
“I still don’t classify you as an introvert.”
I shrug. “Maybe it’s because you’ve always known me. If we’re in a crowd and I’m with you, then I’m okay with it.”
Or it could be a trust thing after moving to a city where I didn’t know anyone. After Felicity, something inside of me changed. At least her stunt helped me to know what my future holds, so I can deal with it mentally.
“You might be feeling out of it because you know… Felicity’s parents will be here. Have you seen them since you told her to go to hell?”
“No. Only the text messages from her mother. Man, she’s weird. She said she still believes Felicity and I will end up together. Felicity lied to her, too. Why would she think I’d want to get back with someone as deceitful as her daughter?”
“Stepdaughter,” Chance adds. “Yet, they have similar personalities. It’s the whole nature versus emotional environment thing.”
“Nature versus nurture. Whatever it is, they’re two of a kind.”
We head out to the marquee to find Dakota and wish him a happy birthday.
We chat and catch up on old times until we’re joined by Felicity and her father.
“Chance, Reef… good to see you.” He shakes our hands. At least he has the decency to move on to Dakota. Felicity hugs us both. “Great party the other night,” she says to Chance.
Her mother appears by her side. “Boys, it’s lovely to see you again,” she drawls.
“Always a pleasure, Sylvia,” Chance says and kisses her cheek.
I allow her to hug me and kiss my cheek under sufferance. “Hope you had an enjoyable Christmas, Mrs Muirhead.” She gives me a pointed look since she prefers being called by her first name as Mrs Muirhead sounds old. I say it for kicks.
“Ignore Reef. A girl…” She raises an eyebrow. “Is her name, Macy? Yeah, anyway, she broke his heart. We all know how fragile his little heart is,” Felicity, says in her best sarcastic tone.
Mrs Muirhead’s eyes widen. “Really. And what does this Macy do?”
“No concern of yours. Or mine now,” I say with equal sarcasm. I turn to Chance. “Can I get you a beer?”
“Yeah, mate.”
As I leave, I hear both women question Chance about Macy. I want to tell him to give them nothing. It’s Chance, and he sees only the good in people, so I trust him to say a few nice things about Mace and then drop it.
My gut tightens thinking about her good qualities and what Chance said to me yesterday. Should I have allowed her to tell her side of the story? The way I’m hurting, I’d love nothing more than for it to be a big mistake and pick up where we left off. Only I was a douchebag to her and doubt she’ll ever talk to me again.
Weaving through the crowd, I take a sip of my beer thinking about my return to Adelaide. Maybe I could arrange for Chance to help me work things out with Macy. When I reach the spot where I left him, I’m relieved to see Felicity and her mother have moved on to another group of football players.
Chance takes the beer and pops the lid. “Mate, I need this after the barrage of questions fired at me.”
“What about?”
“Macy. Why do you think Sylvia was so interested in her?”
“No idea,” I say in a grunt because I trust Felicity’s mother less than Felicity. “I might need a favour,” I say and take another swig of my beer. “When is your team next playing in Adelaide?”
“The week after Adele’s twenty-first birthday. About a month from now. Which reminds me… your invite is in the post. And I should mention Adele also invited Macy.”
“Right. After your road trip, you’re all best buddies. You said something about knowing her better since then.” I take one more sip of beer, then meet his steady gaze. “Want to tell me about it?”
It took a week of being back in Adelaide before I joined my football mates for coffee at Lombardi’s. A Friday morning and I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed Macy wasn’t rostered on. Ava waited on our table, and by the sideways scowl she sent me, I sensed she knew something of what went down between Macy and me.
Since I went on a weekend surfing trip to the south coast, I didn’t return until Monday, and she was rostered off again. Ava met me with the same scowl, so I knew Macy had discussed us. I took it as a good thing she thought enough of me to talk about it with her friend. Because right now, I’m all about the positives. One week with Chance is all it took me to turn my way of thinking around.
When Ava is at the front counter, I walk up and pay the bill, then quietly ask when Macy is next working.
She frowns, then folds her arms across her chest. “I can’t discuss staff with customers.”
I lean over the counter. “C’mon, Ava. You know I’m more than a customer to Macy.”
“Was is the correct word. Was,” she repeats with even more emphasis.
“I need to speak with her.”
“Is she not answering her phone?” She pushes loose strands of hair behind her ear and eyes me in a challenge.
I want to hear her story face to face, so I haven’t tried to call. Besides, I figured if I see her, I’d know if I have a chance by the way she looks at me. One look is all I need. Macy’s body language is better than any words.
“Fine. I’ll be in tomorrow,” I say, hoping she’ll happen to mention it to Macy.
The following morning, I walk into Lombardi’s. Macy’s eyes round as though they could pop before I even take a seat at the table.
So, Ava didn’t relay our conversation.
Macy’s cheeks glow before she turns away and heads for the kitchen door. I don’t even get to say hello. There isn’t a hint of anger, only surprise. Another positive. Resorting to old ways, I turn the menu and write in large letters.
CAN WE PLEASE TALK?
Then place it under the table 11 stand.
I decide not to order today to give her space. Letting her know I’ll be coming back here for coffee is step one. I walk out and stand by a light post concealing me enough not to be obvious and still see my seat through the window.
A few minutes later, she’s standing there. She glances down at the menu and picks it up. She must be reading it over and over. Even from here, I see her shoulders rise and fall. She glances down, and then I swear she senses me. She writes something and turns with a deadpan expression and holds up the menu with her answer for me to read.
I see it clear enough.
A big fat NO with a zig-zag underline in a similar way to how she emphasised the word LOSERS when I caught her out months ago. I still have the menu and amuse myself by thinking it’s our first love letter.
I give her a nod before walking away with a smile on my face because it was enough time to see the necklace around her neck—the one I gave her for Christmas.
She’s upped the ante on my biggest challenge—to win back her heart.
I may be stubborn, but at times like this, she has no idea of my determination to win. Something I train for every day. Chance gave me some advice, and the rest is on me.
Initially, our notes connected us.
I hope she’s prepared to battle in the love-war of notes.
The following morning, I’m in the locker room after training red-faced and not from my workout. The anger still bubbling inside me. Brody had tackled me too high, and I laid a few punches to his midriff making a point not to mess with me.
“Hey, Nemo, what was that out on the field?” He comes at me.
Before I know it, I have his T-shirt bunched in my fist, and he is shoved up against the wall, my elbow pushing into his chest. My left arm raised, fist clenched.
“Hey, hey, hey…” Hunter is between us pushing me
away.
“Stay the fuck away from me… and Macy,” I yell in his face. “Don’t you step foot in that restaurant until you apologise to her.”
“C’mon, Reef, it was a joke,” Davidson adds. “You’ll kiss and make up.”
“Both of you can get fucked,” I bellow. “I’m over your bullshit.”
“Man, we didn’t mean it to go this far,” Brody says, which is far from an apology. “We were both pissed off our faces.”
“When I get to speak to her, only then do you apologise. Until then… Do. Not. Go. Near. Her,” I emphasise each word.
I take another shower.
Hunter remains in the change rooms until they both leave. “Do you want to have coffee alone today?”
I shake my head. “No point. She’s not talking to me.”
“I’ll see you there, then,” he says, now the other guys have left, and he’s no longer required to break up a fight.
I’m one of the last to arrive at Lombardi’s, and when I do, Hunter slides out so I can take my usual seat then slides in next to me. Macy enters the dining room via the kitchen door, does a double-take, and hesitates in her step. Too late to retreat, princess. I’ve learned to read her and know she wants to go out back and ask someone else to cover our table. I hold her gaze and the sass in her rises.
She marches over with the iPad. “Same as usual, gentlemen?” She taps the iPad with more than her usual vigour.
“Yeah, all the usual,” I say, even though I don’t get another glance my way.
“Won’t be long.” Macy saunters away, and I can’t take my eyes off her hips swaying with every step. Is she deliberately teasing me?
A sugar sachet lands on my face.
“Dude, don’t be so obvious,” Marcus says. “You’ll give her the creeps.”
“I was thinking of calling her back and adding to my order,” I lie.
“Sure, you were.”
The guys pick up the conversation from the car ride after training on the latest opposition players to hit the injury list.
“And Dakota, the unlucky bastard, did a knee last night. He’s having an MRI today to see if it’s an ACL recon,” Hunter says.
I snap out of Macy’s spell. “Dakota? You’re kidding?”
“Nope. Richardson phoned me this morning. You’re friends with him, right?” I nod. “Might want to call him. He’d be pissed because he was heading for a big one this year.”
Dakota and I spoke at his party, and yeah, we were both hoping for a massive year performance-wise. One day we hoped to play alongside each other. “Man, he’ll be bummed.” I pull out my phone and send him a text, and when I do, there’s a message from Macy.
Can’t you find somewhere else to have coffee?
I smile. And, so it begins.
When my friends leave, I reach for a napkin and decide to make an overall apology light-hearted. One to be continued.
Regretting words I’ve said,
Keeps going around in my head.
My choices I did make,
But only for your sake.
Love only hurts when it is true,
And I hurt every day I’m without you…
I fold the napkin and place it under the table number. I run to catch up with my mates knowing it’s one of the lamest messages I’ve written. No doubt I’ll be counting the minutes until I’ll see her tomorrow.
We don’t normally hang out at Lombardi’s on a Thursday morning as our weights session usually goes overtime. Driving into the city alone, I make it there before lunch and order a coffee to go. She serves me, but not once does she make eye contact. Apart from being denied the pleasure of staring into her coffee-coloured eyes—which is probably why I’m drinking so much of it—I’m starting to think the napkin fell into the wrong hands.
Macy pushes a few napkins my way. “You might need these for the car,” she murmurs and turns to head out back before I can thank her.
It’s not until I’m in the car, do I find the napkin with her hidden message.
One thing I’ve learned is not to regret,
Only to learn from mistakes and if necessary, forget.
I don’t regret what we had,
But I won’t repeat mistakes that make me feel bad.
Even though I wasn’t at fault,
I’m guessing you now know that, so you can get forked.
I chuckle at the last line. Princess, my skin has a new layer of thickness. I’m not going to stop trying even if you tell me to get forked a thousand times.
Friday feels like Groundhog Day—niceties when we enter the restaurant and minimal eye contact. My friends leave, and it gives me seconds to scribble rhythmic words on another napkin. After leaving it in the same place under the table 11 sign, I wait outside near the same light post to watch her reaction. Seconds later, Macy is at our table. She picks up the napkin and unfolds it.
If I were given the chance to change the world
For one person, that person would be you.
Please give us another chance, and together we can see where this will go.
Let me take your hand, guide you, and hold it tight.
Without each other no star shines bright.
She folds the napkin and pushes it into her apron pocket. Her chin dips, and I wish I knew what she was thinking. Damn, I must have wished too hard because she stiffens and turns slowly to meet my gaze. Her beautiful expression changes, and she leans over the table, pulls out a pen from her pocket, and writes something. She walks over to the window and holds the menu against the glass.
YOU SUCK.
STOP WRITING ME NOTES!!
With her signature zig-zag underline.
Suddenly, she spins so her back is to the window and the menu behind her back. A few steps closer, and I see Oliver is speaking to her.
I take it as a cue to save her ass.
I rush through the door and hold out my hand for the menu. “Thanks for the heads up. I need this to add to the pile of training notes.”
Her eyes widen before she catches up. She hands me the note, and I fold it in half so Oliver can’t read her message. “No worries,” she whispers, then she turns back to Oliver.
“Hey, man. Hope you don’t mind us writing on your menus? Our training makes sense over your coffee, and we scribble down notes. Hit us up for the cost to reprint more.” I point the folded menu at him. “Much appreciated.” I turn to Macy before heading out the door. “Catch you next time, Mace.” I don’t look at her because I already know surprise is rising on her beautiful face. Surprise and satisfaction are my favourite expressions, especially when I’m riding her to orgasm, over and over.
I make one promise before the door closes.
I’ll see that look of satisfaction on her face again when I’m inside her making love for an entire night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
REEF
From the time I open my eyes, I’m thinking about Macy. I send her a text before I jump in the car to head to training.
Love is a hard word to say,
But loving you gets better by the day.
She never told me those words. Not once. She showed me in other ways. Hell, I love every inch of her. Love the way she screams my name when I fuck her to pleasure and when she’s mad.
Mad.
I think back to those early days and how I could rile her. She’s already frustrated, so I take it one step further. Without poetry in the message.
I told you I loved you.
And you didn’t say it back.
I know you meant it.
So, I forgive you. <3
By the time I arrive at training, she’s sent a reply.
Can’t you take a hint?
I don’t care.
You broke us.
You’re right about one thing.
WE ARE DONE!
So, I reply.
You are wrong there.
We are so NOT done. #lovehateletters
I gave our messages a hashtag.
> You hashtagged our notes!
You are so lame.
I chuckle because I don’t care. I’ll keep at it until she talks to me.
See you later this morning x
I’ve never trained better.
I rush to the shower and make it to Lombardi’s before my teammates.
Macy frowns when I enter the restaurant. She rolls her beautiful eyes, and I’m lusting to look into them when she takes my order. I smile when Macy’s close enough, but she keeps her gaze lowered to the iPad.
“The same?”
“Yes, and I’ll have the cake of the day.”
Her gaze flicks up to meet mine in surprise.
“Nothing sweet happening in my life except for a few things in this restaurant.”
Another eye roll without a bite.
Macy returns moments later with my coffee and extra napkins. “No friends? Or have you pushed them away, too?”
I ignore her sass while I read her note on the napkin.
There is no war because I’m not in a battle.
So, forget your stupid hashtag.
I surrendered before your love/hate war of notes began.
You can’t win what you don’t have.
Just stop.
And leave me alone!
The door opens with a clunk behind me and familiar voices sound.
“Unfortunately, not. My friends don’t take the hint that I want to dine alone. Well, not alone. I have you.” When her eyes narrow, I suck in a breath.
Macy leans across the table, and for the first time in weeks, I’m gazing into her mocha eyes with spots of caramel. Her lashes touch her brow.
She’s wearing makeup.
For me?
I smile before I hear her words.