I call a taxi as I leave her house. She said I could wait inside but I told her it was okay; I’d rather wait for it outside in the street.
Maybe I should’ve listened to Fletch and just gone home. I’ve never listened to anyone, so why should I start now?
Because she wasn’t who I wanted to spend my night with, and she really was a poor substitute.
Lee
AS I WATCHED the scenes unfold on the TV screen this afternoon, I felt sick. Sick from the pit of my stomach. To be honest, I still feel the same. I just hope it passes soon. I’m the first to admit I love my football. I’m a huge fan, but what I witnessed today would be enough to put anyone off the game. It was madness. I was relieved when I saw not only Logan and Fletcher, but all the players on both teams finally get off that pitch to safety.
There’s no other words to describe it; it was a riot. All those people. All that fighting, and over what? A bloody game of football. There was no need for any of it. I’d be very surprised if there were no casualties after today, although I do hope and pray no one is seriously injured.
The rivalry between the two Glasgow clubs has become deeply embedded in Scottish culture and has contributed to the political, social, and religious division and sectarianism in not only Scotland, but beyond.
The bitterness amongst fans on both sides of the old firm is uncalled for. The divide goes much deeper than a football game. And as news reporters have said during live interviews today, something has to be done. Someone has to take responsibility and make a stand against the sectarianism that surrounds the old firm once and for all.
The news stated that today’s trouble was the result of the players’ actions on the pitch. So what, today’s fighting was all because Fletcher and Jason had a bit of a set-to on the field? Yes, players’ emotions were running high, but they can’t be held responsible for what the fans choose to do.
Jason was stupid, there’s no doubt about it. He deliberately went for the tackle, bringing down Fletcher. It looked as though he was in a lot of pain, but when he got back up, I’m sure everyone watching the game knew there was going to be a heated argument between the two players. But I didn’t expect Jason to throw a punch. I took him for being a bit brighter. What was he thinking? Wasn’t it bad enough that he gave away a penalty? No, he had to go one better and get himself sent off as well.
Fletcher stepped up, took the penalty, and scored the goal. What happened next I’m sure everyone would rather forget. Although, they won’t be allowed to forget. The aftermath will be analysed, not by just both clubs, but I would expect by our police force too.
Several times I tried to phone Jess, but the call wouldn’t connect. Servers must have gone into overload at that time. I swear it was the longest half hour before I finally got to speak to her. She was with Fran and I knew she would be safe, but I just wanted confirmation that my best friend was okay.
We didn’t spend long talking because I knew she was desperate to see how Fletcher was, which is understandable. I’ll be seeing for myself how they are in a short time. But that also means I’m seeing Logan again, sooner than I would’ve liked.
Logan Walker, international Scotland goalkeeper. What can I say about him that’s not already been printed in black and white? Not a lot. I was breathless and dizzy from our first meeting. He’s definitely pleasant on the eyes. Who am I kidding? He’s bloody gorgeous and he knows it. So full of confidence. Maybe that’s something footballers are taught before they start training; confidence and arrogance. They all seem to be full of it. Well, the few I’ve actually met do.
He’s hot. Maybe that’s a requirement of being a footballer too. Logan is tall and lean and strong. And those hands . . . well, he is known to save a few goals, but that’s not all those hands are good for.
I need to stop this chain of thought or I’ll drive myself insane.
I’ve been trying to avoid him lately, which is hard when our best friends are dating. Logan is a player both on and off the pitch. He won’t even try to deny it. He doesn’t seem to care who knows about the many girls he hooks up with. Lately, there has been story after story about him in the newspapers.
He infuriates me. Not many people can do that, but he does. Is that because I’m jealous? Of course it is. I long to be the one who falls asleep and wakes up in his arms each day. The one person who tames his wild ways. But it’s not going to happen. I knew the rules of his game from our first night together. I should’ve known better.
I’d be lying to myself if I said there isn’t a tiny part of me that’s excited about seeing him again. There’s a flutter in my stomach, and I smile, remembering our first night together.
“You look so much better than I had imagined.” He stands at the foot of the bed, naked, watching me, staring at his handy work. I’ve never let anyone tie me to a bed before. What the hell was I thinking? Especially now that I see him. All of him. Bloody hell. But as I risk another glance back, I know I would be willing to do anything for him. Anything.
“Your pussy is already dripping wet.” I flush at his words, embarrassed by his direct tone, but it’s also turning me on.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, and you’ll come just as hard.” With no further warning, he moves closer to the bed and slams into me, going deep inside.
Even now, I feel my face flush and my breathing change at the memory engraved within. That was a memorable night. It was eye-opening for me, in a good way. We’ve had a few other nights together, but I know it will never be anything more than sex for him. For me, it’s entirely different. I have feelings I can’t control. Logan Walker has consumed my thoughts and dreams these last few months. I can’t shake the way he makes me feel.
He makes me feel different.
Alive.
Jess knows about the first night, but I’ve not said anything to her about being with him a second and third time. She is so happy right now, I’ve never seen her this happy. Fletcher is good for her. I don’t want her worrying about me. And she would worry, especially when Logan has been seen out on the town with different girls.
It’s who he is. That part of his life hurts like a fucking bitch.
I look at the time. I need to get a move on. Start thinking about getting ready. Fletcher has organised a charity fundraiser for Women’s Aid and then he and Jess are jetting off for a few days away.
I’ve always known about the women’s aid charity but, until Jess, I had never really thought about the work they do, or the lives they change and sometimes save. Domestic violence shouldn’t exist in today’s society but, unfortunately, it does and the after effects can be heart breaking.
Jess and Fletcher have had a lot to deal with in recent months. Jess and Scott . . . well, the least said about him the better. Then poor Fletcher has had to deal with the news that he’s not alone in the world. He has family; a sister and a gorgeous nephew. He’s been trying to adjust.
They deserve some alone time. Doesn’t mean I won’t miss them.
I start undressing as I walk through the apartment. The good thing about staying here is that no one can walk past my window and look straight into my home. For someone to do that, they would need binoculars.
I shiver at the thought.
In the bathroom, I switch on the shower, turning the temperature up. Stepping in and under the stream of water, I close the door and stand for a few moments under the almost scalding heat. With my eyes closed, I run my fingers through my hair. It’s going to need some extra conditioner on it. Why didn’t I go for a shower earlier? I’ve been home all day, so there’s no reason for me to be running around last minute. So unorganised.
This isn’t me. I’m always organised for everything.
Grabbing the shampoo, I start washing my hair. Once again, my thoughts turn to Logan. I hope it’s not going to be awkward tonight. Shit, he might bring a date, and then how will I feel? Having to watch him and some tart. Oh, no. I can’t go.
My stomach starts churning, and for the first time, I thi
nk I might actually be sick. All afternoon I’ve felt off, but I just put it down to the events of the football. Now though, I could have a valid excuse not to go to the event if I’m really sick.
Quickly, I finish washing and step out of the shower. I grab a towel and wrap it around my body then stop. The steam-filled room has my head in a spin. Taking a deep breath, I leave the bathroom and make my way to my bed and sit down. The room starts spinning. Falling back, I close my eyes and try to compose myself. Waves of nausea sweep over me.
After a few minutes, I start to feel better.
Bloody hell. What is wrong with me? I could call Jess now and tell her I’m feeling sick and just spend the night either in my bed with a good book or curled up in front of the TV. That would solve my problem of facing Logan.
No, I can’t do that. After what happened today, I need to see her.
Slowly, I sit back up and wait for another minute before standing. As I rise to my feet, I take a few short breaths. Nothing. I feel okay.
Thank goodness for that.
Time to start making myself presentable. My phone buzzes—a text from Logan.
Shit, what the hell does he want? Only one way to find out. I open it.
I was thinking I could pick you up tonight if you’re not bringing a date?
Wow. Not what I was expecting. Quickly, I type out my response with a smile. Yeah, why not?
Pick you up soon.
I stare at my phone with a silly grin on my face, trying not to overthink this, but I can’t help myself. As much as I know I shouldn’t be happy about his message, I am.
Okay, I really don’t have time to be daydreaming about Logan Walker. I need to be ready before he gets here. Hair, make-up, dress. How hard can this be?
I plug my hairdryer and straighteners in and start with my make-up. Everything is going well until my hand starts shaking as I put on my eyeliner. Not a good look I have going on; it’s all smudged. This would be hilarious if I wasn’t feeling so anxious about seeing Logan. I redo my eyeliner, this time taking extra care.
Voila! Make-up is done and, if I do say so myself, it looks pretty damn good. Now, onto my hair. I don’t need the hairdryer; my hair has dried into a wavy mess.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. I’ll just pull the straighteners through it and it will be fine, all nice and smooth. I pick them up, pull them through a section of my hair, and nothing. It’s still the same as it was moments ago. I check the plug; everything is switched on.
“Why tonight?” The stupid damn things are broken. I take a deep breath and think. I don’t have long before Logan will be here. I’ll need to just pin it up, spray lots of hairspray on it, and hope for the best.
I’ll pin my hair after I slip into my dress. I love my dress and I know the white looks great against my skin tone. Jess and Fran both said as much when I tried it on.
With my dress on, I finally tame my wild hair. I don’t look so bad. The intercom buzzes.
Shit, he’s here already. With another glance in the mirror, I pick up my heels and leave my bedroom. There’s a loud knocking on the front door.
Can he not wait two minutes? He’s so impatient.
I slip my feet into my heels and open the door, but I stumble and fall dramatically into Logan’s arms. Only me. “Ouch,” I cry out, and survey the damage. I’ve broken a heel on one of my shoes.
“Lee . . . this is all a bit dramatic,” he says with a smirk. I stare straight through him blankly until his smirk disappears and he realises I’m not laughing. Actually, if this was happening to someone else, I would find it funny. “Sorry. Are you okay?”
He bends down, picking up the heel, and hands it to me. He better not come out with some smart arse comment because, if he does, I won’t be held responsible for my actions. “Yes, I think so, although I don’t think I’ll be wearing these.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
I stand up and remove myself from his arms, already missing the warmth they provided, and take a look at him. Bloody hell. He’s wearing a kilt. He chuckles, watching me with an intensity in those dark brown eyes, and I realise I’m gawking at him. God, I bet I’m bloody drooling as well.
I take a step back, allowing him to enter. “You’ll need to give me a minute,” I say before hurrying away to my room. I hear his footsteps heading in the direction of my living room. Thank goodness for that. I need a minute to myself.
He always looks incredible, but there’s something different about him tonight, and it’s more than just wearing a kilt. But, by God, in that kilt he looks hot. Incredibly hot. I stand in the middle of my room, fanning my face with my hand, not that it’s going to cool me down any. I don’t even think a cold shower would help me now.
So far, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. Is this how the rest of my night will go? I hope not. I’m praying things improve. Slipping my feet into another pair of shoes, I take a deep breath before going back to face Logan.
Logan
WHAT THE HELL was I thinking coming here first? Now she’s going to think this is a date. Is it? Fucked if I know. I just knew I wanted to see her after today’s events. Seeing the closeness of Fletch and Jess and the look of relief on her face when she finally saw him, I couldn’t wait until dinner to see Lee. Not sure why, and I’m not even going to delve into the reason. I might not like what I find out.
I stand in the middle of her living room and look around. Everything is neat and tidy. I never noticed this the last time I was here, but then again, I don’t think I noticed anything other than Lee and her bedroom. What a fucking amazing night we had here. She’s good, I have to give her that. The sex was incredible.
After all, I’ve come back for seconds and thirds . . .
I’m a prize wanker; I never even told her how good she looks when I arrived. I was too busy trying not to show any emotions as she fell into my arms. Fuck, when she pulled out of my hold, all I wanted to do was hold onto her tighter. It felt right having her that close to me.
Get a grip. I walk over to the sideboard, where there are lots of pictures. Mostly with Jess, and a few family ones of Lee with her parents. She looks like her mother. Beautiful. I pick up one of the pictures of her and Jess in their office. I’m not sure when it’s from, but they both look so happy.
“That was the day we opened.”
I turn, surprised at her voice. I gasp as I take in her appearance.
Wow. Just wow. That fucking dress is elegant yet screams sexy. It shows off all her curves with maximum effect. Her blonde hair pinned up is perfect, showing off her beautiful features. Her smile . . . her sparkling eyes. These thoughts are all a bit mushy for me. Shit, this isn’t good. My chest tightens. Heat pulses through my body all the way to my dick.
There’s something desperate about the need I’m feeling for this sexy woman before me. Something more than just being turned on. Everything Lee does seems effortless, from the way she looks, to the confident business woman she is.
Fuck, this isn’t good. Or maybe it is.
God, I want her. What is it about her that keeps bringing me back to her? These last few weeks I’ve been out with other women, but not a single one of them has held my interest. Even when I’ve been with them, fucking them, I’ve been thinking about and picturing Lee in my head.
Like last night, the whole time I was with the blonde, my thoughts were of Lee. I might not have realised it, or maybe I did, but she is all I’ve thought about since our first night together. This isn’t good. There’s a reason I keep women at arm’s length. A damn good one.
“Great picture of you both,” I say, carefully putting it back down. I give her my undivided attention because that’s no less than she deserves. “You look amazing.” I take a few steps closer to her and stop, unsure of what to do. I know what I want to do; take her in my arms and kiss her deeply. But I don’t, I just stand here, probably looking as uncomfortable as I feel.
“Thanks,” she finally says. “Do we have time for a drink?”
“I’d love to say yes, but I have a taxi waiting.” With its meter running, but whatever it costs is worth it.
“No, that’s fine.” She picks up her bag. “I’m ready.”
She walks with confidence, as she always does, and I follow behind her. My breathing is all over the place as I watch her hips sway before me. Right now, I’m fighting the urge to grab her by her hips, push her against the wall and kiss her as though my life depends on it. Yip, my thoughts are still fucking crazy.
I stop outside and wait until she locks the front door. As she turns to face me, I reach out and take her hand in mine. I catch the slight frown on her face, but it’s quickly replaced by a half smile.
That’ll do for me, but I’d rather it was a full smile.
Her hand is warm and soft in mine as we walk the short distance to the waiting taxi. I have to let go of it to open the taxi door. She climbs in, relaxed and composed, and here’s me, a ball of tension. I get in beside her, give the driver our destination, and sit back.
“How are you after today?” she asks.
“Okay. Were you watching?”
She turns her body toward me. “Yes. It looked awful. What did the fans hope to achieve? At the end of the day, it’s just a game of football. There’s no need for the violence that took place.”
I can’t help but smile knowing she was watching the game, but that’s not the only reason I’m smiling. No, it’s also the fact she has such a strong opinion on what happened today. “No, there wasn’t, and you’re right. There’s no room for violence. I’m sure both clubs will pay the price for it.”
“What do you mean?” She sounds genuinely concerned.
“I expect both teams will face penalties in some form, maybe hefty fines. I suppose we’ll find out on Monday. So, what have you been up to?” I change the subject because, tonight, I don’t want to discuss the politics that surround the Glasgow old firm. Tonight isn’t about football. Tonight is about changing people’s lives.
“Not a lot. Just busy at work trying to get organised for Jess having time off.”
Saving the Game Page 2