by A. S. Kelly
“Yeah,” she responds distractedly. “I don’t even follow rugby. Jamie’s always trying to get me to go to the games but I can’t stand the idea that he gets hurt. I know it’s just sport but I prefer not to watch. I haven’t seen a game since he was a kid playing in the second division, but please don’t tell him that. He’s convinced I watch them all.” She says, shaking her head. “I hate the sport. All of it, honestly.”
“You can’t mean that…”
“And the players! So perfect, so perfectly arrogant, so dumb…” she says without considering her present company, and then looks up and bites her lip.
A few of my heart beats drop to the floor.
Shit.
“Don’t tell me,” she closes her eyes and her face goes bright red.
I shrug, trying to hide a smile.
“You’re probably famous, too.”
“Not really.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Really, I—”
“I don’t like those parties either. Too many people, too many ‘heroes’, too many hormonal women.”
She smiles too.
Fuck.
She looks around to study the apartment and my mood changes on the spot. I should have guessed. Now she’s going to ask the usual question: why do I live in a place like this? She’ll dig into my life and try to keep a foot in the door. I knew I shouldn’t have brought her here.
“This place is amazing.”
“Mmm,” I comment, already annoyed.
“It was a garage, wasn’t it?”
“Still is,” I say flatly.
“I like it,” she takes another sip of her drink and I choke on mine. “It’s unique,” she looks at me with nothing but sincerity in her eyes. “You did well to leave the door like it was. Leaving it like it was originally is a bit like keeping hold of your roots.”
Breathe, Ian, breathe, for crying out loud!
“Oh my God!” She jumps to her feet. “What time is it?”
I look at my watch. “Seven thirty.”
“I have to go, I’m late.” She starts moving frantically around the apartment.
I get up too.
“I have to call a cab.”
I grab my phone from the counter and hand it to her.
“Thanks,” she says, but before ringing the taxi company, she looks up at me. “Where are we?” she asks putting a hand over the microphone.
At my house.
A woman is in my house.
And my heart is completely fucked.
27
Riley
Present
Arriving at the gate, I give my name as a guest just like Ian instructed me to. The security guard checks his tablet, calls someone on his walkie talkie and after a few minutes, another man in uniform joins us.
“Ms. Murray?” he asks me.
I nod.
“Please follow me.”
I do as instructed, and I can hear Ray snickering behind me. “We’re VIPs,” he says mockingly, earning himself an elbow to the ribs.
The man leads us to an area, indicating our seats with his hand. We take our places and thank him as Ray starts looking around, just waiting to find someone up to his standards.
“Your life is more interesting than I imagined.”
“I’m starting to regret asking you to come with me.”
“You invited me because you knew you’d have fun with me – and you know my weakness.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
“I’m going to get something to drink. Be back soon.”
Ray walks off and I try to relax in my uncomfortable seat, looking across the field at the perfectly cut grass, ready to welcome a bunch of huge guys who are all arms and legs and who don’t know how to do anything except constantly show off their muscles.
I’ve never been a big fan of rugby, even though Jamie’s been playing his whole life. I’ve always supported him from a distance. It never felt like my world or my place, and I didn’t want to interfere with his life.
I love my brother and I love what he does, I’m proud of him, but seeing him on the field being beaten up in public doesn’t help me. It reminds me of ugly things I’d rather to forget and it just brings me down.
I understand that it’s different for him. In his eyes, it’s a chance to show himself that he’s strong now, almost invincible and that no one scares him anymore. I admire him for that, but I don’t want to be a part of it.
Ray comes back with two beers just as the two teams are making their way onto the field. He gets to his feet, all worked up and I stay right where I am, in calm silence, listening to the crazy beat of my heart. It seems to be drumming out an unknown rhythm, making me shiver.
“Which number?” Ray shouts into my ear.
I scrutinize the teams while they prepare for kick-off, scanning every face, when I see him standing tall and proud in his blue kit. I think my heart could just fall all the way down the stairs and plop out onto the field.
Good Lord.
Ian is breathtaking. He’s tall and muscular like the rest of them, but there’s a pride in his eyes, in the way he stands and a concentration on his face that makes him dangerous and damn sexy.
I take a few sips of beer and Ray urges, “Well?”
“Number 11,” I mutter without pulling myself away from the glass.
“Holy shit!” Ray exclaims, coming to his feet again. “That’s your friend? Ian O’Connor?” He raises his voice to the point of embarrassing me. “The one from the club? How did I not recognise him? Well, all dressed as he is…”
I try to disappear into my chair.
“Oh, Riley, you hide too much from me. We need a little chat.”
Ray sits down with his eyes still wide.
“You realise, of course, that he’s one of the sexiest rugby players on the face of the Earth? Next to your brother, obviously.”
Are you serious?
“God, Riley. Please, tell me you’re sleeping together. I need to know what he’s like below the belt!”
“Ray!” I cut him off before he can keep going.
“Okay, I get it, it’s private.”
“It’s nonexistent. He and I are friends, more or less.”
“Well, at least tell me if you’re friends with benefits.”
I look at him sideways.
He puts a hand on his forehead and crosses his legs blatantly. “You’re a lost cause, Riley.”
The game begins and luckily Ray leaves me alone, too busy watching the most minute details out on the field; every tackle, every time someone gets pantsed.
I have to be honest, I’m not following the game at all. The only thing I’m able to keep my eye on is number 11. When he moves, when he stops, when he dries his sweat with his shirt, when he spits, when he breathes. His tensed muscles, the mud on his thighs, his messed-up hair, covered in sweat. His body, tense and ready to pounce on the ball at his first opportunity.
I can’t believe what I’m looking at, what is going through my mind and what I feel. Through my entire body.
Fire, adrenaline…desire.
Thank God, the first half ends and I am able to go back to breathing normally. I don’t think I’ve exhaled for the last 45 minutes and I don’t know if it’s possible to survive being underwater for this long.
“Wow,” Ray interrupts my train of thought. “Honey, tell me the reason you’re not sleeping with him is because he’s gay. Give me at least this little dash of hope.”
“I don’t think he’s gay,” I tell him apologetically.
Not in the farthest regions of my mind.
The players slowly make their way off the field, giving each other slaps on the back or the arse. Ian goes into the changing rooms, his back to me, and I can’t help feeling disappointed that he didn’t look this way even once.
After half time in which Ray and I go down to the concession stands to grab another beer, the players come back onto the field.
> I sit back down and take a few more sips of my beer as my eyes watch the players going this way and that on the field, throwing themselves down, showing off, scoring and cheering, and internally, the image makes me smile – even though being here makes me nervous, I can’t deny how it makes me feel.
About fifteen minutes into the second half, Ian charges down the right-hand side of the field with the ball under his arm, running towards the goal. He doesn’t notice the pair of giants about two metres behind him, ready to tackle.
I stand up, spilling my beer all over Ray the moment they grab him and throw him to the ground. I hold back a scream, putting my hands in front of my mouth as more players pile up on top of him, maybe all of the other players, I don’t know. I can’t distinguish anything anymore, it’s all a mass of solid color.
Ray stands up too and wraps me under his arm and squeezes me tenderly to give me courage. After a few minutes of pandemonium, the players start to peel off one by one, but Ian is still laid out on the ground.
My heart is lodged in my throat and my anxiety tries to choke me. I feel like my legs can’t hold me up.
Ian isn’t moving.
His teammates all gather around him. The paramedics come out too, kneeling down next to him. Then, slowly, he starts to get up and I let out a sigh so heavy that Ray pulls me in even closer.
Ian looks around, dazed. The minute I see him scanning the crowd, I understand what it is he’s looking for. And when his eyes meet mine, I realise I won’t be able to let him go.
Because he’s inside of me. He always has been.
He’s my player.
“Just a friend, huh?” Ray says in my ear, but I ignore him.
I can’t give him an explanation when I don’t even know what to tell my own heart, which has reassembled itself as if by magic.
The pieces fit together perfectly with no help. Of course, there are fault lines, and it may never go back to how it used to be, but it’s whole.
And it’s beating again, for him.
I pace, torn between the urge to run away from what scares me and sprinting down to the field and throwing myself in his arms.
“I know it’s hard, honey,” Ray says sweetly, dragging me away from my thoughts. “It’s difficult to trust someone, to trust what you’re feeling and to let yourself go. It’s hard to understand and even harder to accept. It’s damn hard letting yourself fall into the emptiness. And you can say what you want, tell me the same lies you tell yourself, but Riley, your heart isn’t capable of lying. Your heart’s wearing a number 11 jersey, and it’s already rooting for him.”
28
Ian
I get up slowly, assisted by the paramedics who are asking me if everything’s alright. I nod repeatedly and try to take some nice deep breaths to store away as much air as possible and calm my stupid heart.
It’s not about the hit, or the fact that I blacked out, it’s not about the fear or the game. It’s none of that.
“Christ, Ian, you really scared me,” John says, taking me by the arm. “Are you alright? Do you need to get off the field?”
I shake my head trying not to make the stabbing pain worse.
“You took a nasty hit, mate. And you’re bleeding,” he says pointing to my forehead. “You have to go off. We need the points,” he says, nodding to the bench.
“No.” I stop him. “I can’t.”
“You have to.”
I shake off his grip and look around, confused. Jamie storms onto the field, coming towards us.
“Jesus, Ian!” he yells as the others catch up with him. “Get off this field right now, do you hear me? That’s an order! Or I’ll have you off the team until January!”
“You can do whatever you want…later.” I walk away and look at the crowd, who are all on their feet watching the scene unfold on the field. I scan the bleachers, the reserved seating with that annoying pang in my stomach that takes possession of my body.
Where are you…? I whisper between my teeth.
I know she’s out there somewhere. I felt her eyes on me the whole first half and I felt her desperation when I got tackled. I felt her fear.
I felt her. Coursing through me.
I look once more, desperately, through the crowd when I finally spot her, standing there with her hands in front of her mouth. It’s a force as strong as a hurricane that pulls me in, dragging me towards the unknown.
Because I’m aware of the damage I’m causing her and what she’ll do to me. But I can’t help it.
I want this fucking disaster.
I want her to ruin my life. I want those damn eyes on me, I want that stunning smile aimed at me, and I want to see her tears the first time she lets in her pain. I want to be the one to dry those tears and hold her, to comfort her when it doesn’t seem possible to start over.
I want her to be my torment, my punishment and my salvation.
I want her to be the one to turn my world upside-down before helping me put everything back in place.
I want her to be there for every game, watching me and suffering with me and cheering me on. For her to be the one waiting for me at home when I get back.
I want her to be me and I to be her.
I have always and only wanted her.
Riley is upset, speaking to someone standing next to her. Then she shakes her head and it looks like she’s ready to make a run for it.
Even though I know that the emergency exits are closed by this point, she isn’t ready to let go, to let me into her life again and allow me to take care of her like no one in her life ever has.
Riley isn’t ready and no matter what I say or do, I won’t be able to convince her to trust me.
Riley isn’t ready to be my cheerleader.
I’m not her player.
I’ve lost.
This time, I really have lost it all.
As I allow the guys to accompany me off the field, as the paramedics escort me to the changing room, as they sit me down and dress my wounds, I realise that I’ve got one wound that no one can heal; because the only one who could help me is the same person who injured me.
There are certain hits we don’t recover from – not by resting, not with time, not with medicine. Not even with a miracle. They’re the ones that mark your soul and prevent you from ever going back to what you were before.
I get dressed slowly, still in a daze from the pain. They dressed my external wounds, but the internal wounds bleed through my chest.
The guys come to see me one by one to ask how I’m doing and I limit myself to simple nods of the head, because if I even tried to say one word, I’d probably start bawling like a baby. A baby who’s abandoned by his mother, hidden near the bleachers of a rugby field.
I look at my phone again. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before deciding to put it away, along with this insane desire to have something that’s just mine.
I zip up my bag and sling it over my shoulder, heading towards the changing room exit, when I see a figure I’d really rather not see right now standing there leaning against the frame.
“Everything alright?” Nick asks, strangely concerned.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to watch the game. How do you feel?”
“They just threw me to the ground and stomped on me like a herd of mad bulls.”
“Nothing we’re not used to.”
I smile bitterly.
“Can I drive you home?”
“The bus is waiting for me.”
“I don’t think the coach will mind if you leave with me.”
I shrug.
“Come on,” he says taking my bag and hauling it over his shoulder. “Let me be the big brother.”
Getting back home, I throw myself on the sofa.
“Want a beer?” Nick offers, opening the fridge.
I nod, covering my eyes with my arm.
I hear him moving around, and after a few seconds he joins me. He passes me the beer and I accept it, sitting up
with a little difficulty.
“We’re only going to get older,” he says, taking a jab at me.
“I just had a bad day.”
“At least you guys won.”
“Did you ever think we wouldn’t?” I look at him in challenge and he replies with a grin.
“It’s exciting watching your games,” he says with a trace of bitterness in his voice. “I’ve always envied the team spirit you have here.”
“Well, we are a team, on and off the field.”
“Yep…” he takes a few more pulls on his beer. “You’re the best, bro, the best in the family.”
“Don’t start up with me.”
“I’m being serious. Sometimes I think if I’d worked harder instead of being an idiot…”
“It’s not too late to turn it around.”
“I don’t play anymore, Ian. I haven’t set foot on the field for six months.”
“I know that.”
“It’s too late to play that card. At least in the world of sports.”
“You could do something else, I don’t know, be a trainer, a coach.”
He busts out laughing.
“I’m not even qualified to do that. Can you see me giving orders to others? Make them respect the rules, the training…Me? I don’t listen to anyone else.”
“That’s true.”
We lose ourselves in the silence for a few minutes.
“I was thinking maybe I could stay,” he says in all seriousness. “Not, like, forever, but you know…give it a go.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“I don’t think Ryan would agree.”
“Ryan’s upset.”
“I know.”
“But he’s a good guy. Sooner or later it’ll pass. Of course, if you made a little more effort to help things along…”
“I’m trying, alright? It’s not easy.”
“He will forgive you.”
“I hope so. But what about you?” he says with a sigh.
“What about me what?”
“What are you doing, Ian?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I saw her there.”