Endurance

by Amy Daws

  “No,” he laughs again. “I just think it’s funny. You’re blaming your problems on the women in your life, but the truth of the matter is you’ve been a prat for a long time and your conscience finally isn’t letting you get away with it anymore. It’s revolted against you and turned you into”—he pauses, looking me up and down like I’m a bloody alien—“a human.”

  “Sod off,” I growl and step into the lift. I immaturely try to close the doors before he gets in and he looks at me like I’m a moron.

  I feel it.

  He props himself on the railing as we begin our decent. “You only have what, two more times you have to see her? The match on Wednesday and then that fundraiser we’re all going to, right?”

  “And the stupid magazine interview,” I mumble through clenched teeth.

  “All right then. Three times and then you’re home free. Just focus on the prize. Tonight is important. You need to reconnect with the team. We miss you. You’re our captain and we’ve not had you around for three weeks now. You need to sober up, man up, and be a leader. Let them know you’re ready to come back, boots swinging.”

  I sniff and nod. “You’re right. Thanks, Book.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He looks at me one more time as the lift doors open. He turns and begins walking backwards away from me. “And hey, whatever happens, I think if football doesn’t work out, you could find work in a theatre. That little rant up there was an epic fucking performance. I’m thinking…Vagina Monologues.”

  He makes a peace sign around his lips and his tongue darts out between his fingers. His laugh turns to a girlie squeal as I lunge toward him, tearing through the lobby after him.

  Fuck me. For a keeper, he’s bloody fast.

  “You don’t have a choice!” Indie exclaims as she darts back and forth between my closet and my bed, laying out options of clothing. “I’m never here on the weekends anymore. We haven’t had a proper make up session since you screamed at me for telling Tanner he was an arse, even though he was. You’re coming with me to Welly’s.”

  “No, I’m not,” I groan.

  “Yes, you are!” She stamps her foot. “Belle, we haven’t even had a chance to celebrate your small victory with Dr. Miller. This isn’t like us. We celebrate our successes in this family.”

  I shake my head at her. “Well, sis, I don’t feel like going to a pub with a bunch of bloody footballers. I’m tapped out on footballers at the moment. Tanner will probably think I’ve come for him, and I’ll have to play the part of the dutiful girlfriend.”

  “No, you won’t. Booker said Tanner’s not coming.”

  My head snaps to attention. “He’s not?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. I don’t know why, but he won’t be there.”

  “Interesting,” I mumble, chewing on my lip.

  “We won’t stay for long.” She tosses some shoes on the bed and adjusts her glasses to look back at me. “I just want to introduce you to a couple of my favourite guys and then we can go have a laugh somewhere else.”

  I moan.

  “Pretty please?” she whines.

  “Fine. Damn you and your cherubic face. If you and Camden ever have children, you’re fucked.”

  She laughs and gets a daydreamy twinkle in her eyes that makes me sick.

  Indie selects my hottest pair of black leather skinnies that have double zippers on each side. She grabs a light knitted sweater that hangs dramatically off one shoulder and yells at me when I try to wear a bra with it.

  “You have gorgeous, big, perky breasts. Enjoy them while you can.”

  I roll my eyes and finish it off with a pair of nude heels and super dark purple lipstick, feeling about as good as I possibly can considering I’ll be walking into the lion’s den.

  We head out, but I make Indie stop at a wine bar for a couple glasses before we make our way to Welly’s in Brick Lane. I couldn’t stomach the thought of going in there completely sober and being around loads of men who act like Tanner Harris.

  Thankfully, Indie brightens my mood immensely with stories about athlete’s foot on dicks. Apparently, it’s a thing. Why she thinks she wants a career in sports medicine is beyond me.

  By the time the cab drops us in front of Welly’s Pub, I’m in marginally better spirits than I was before. Welly’s is a standard English pub. I’ve been here before because they do a good fish and chips. It has the standard dim lighting, worn carpet, and red, distressed leather booths. It also usually has good music playing and the staff is decent. It’s a well-known Harris hangout but, considering Booker will be the only one in attendance, I think I can handle it.

  We waltz in, completely unnoticed and I think it’s God’s way of easing me into this whole charade. I know the Harrises have kept Tanner and my fake dating scheme quiet, but I can’t help but wonder if everyone here knows who I am and what the bloody hell a guy like Tanner is doing with a girl like me.

  All of my old insecurities are back, and they are fucking ugly and in need of a stiff drink.

  My eyes do a cursory scan for Tanner and come up empty, so I can finally exhale. All I see are footballers, wannabe WAGs, and maybe a few actual WAGs.

  “Let’s sit at the bar and grab a drink first,” Indie croons, waving to one of the players who’s in the middle of a conversation with another player.

  “Hiya, Doc,” another guy says from down the bar.

  “Hello, James!” Indie beams and then looks at the guy next to him. “Hey, Tau, how’s the knee?”

  “Better,” he replies. “I’m icing it, don’t worry.”

  “Good,” she approves.

  I shake my head as we drop down onto two stools and order our drinks.

  “God, no wonder Camden is a jealous sod,” I murmur.

  Indie frowns and takes a sip of her white wine as soon as the bartender sets it down in front of us. “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re a fantasy for these guys. An untouchable carrot with your big doe eyes, your red, luscious hair, and genius, fuck-me-sideways brain. You know half of them wank off to you, right?”

  “Stop!” Indie bellows with a horrified look behind her cheetah-print specs.

  I laugh. “It’s true. I guarantee it.” I glance over at a guy who’s watching us. “He does.” Another guy right beside him looks at us. “He does, too.” Two more guys eye us as they walk in. “You know those two jackals are jerking their meat and picturing their sexy team doctor.”

  “I’m going to murder you,” Indie grinds through clenched teeth. “Drink your wine and shut up.”

  My shoulders shake with silent laughter as I take a sip and look around the pub. When my eyes land on someone, I stop mid-drink and lower my glass.

  Tanner comes walking around the corner from where the loos are and has a girl on his arm. She’s nattering away to him as if he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Her blonde hair, inches of exposed cleavage, and fake nails scream Harris Ho.

  I could kill her with one hand.

  The weight of a thousand footballers begins pressing down on my shoulders. I spin on my chair and look at the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar. “Can we get a couple of shots here?” I bark none too kindly.

  Indie looks at me with a frown. “Shots?”

  “Yeah, tequila please,” I add when the bartender waits for me to clarify.

  “Maybe we should switch to Tequila Sunrises instead. Those are easier to pace ourselves with.”

  “I’m not feeling very sunny right now, darling.” I jerk my head over in Tanner’s direction while taking another gulp of my wine.

  Indie’s eyes follow the trail and I know instantly when she sees him.

  “Oh no—” Her voice is deep and halts mid-sentence as her eyes zero in more closely. “Oh no, no, no. That just won’t do.”

  She moves to get up from her stool, but I grab her arm, yanking her down next to me. “He didn’t know I was coming.”

  “I don’t bloody care!” she hisses. “And since when do you stay si
lent?”

  “Since now.” I grab the shot from the bartender and knock it back in one swig. I hand Indie hers and gesture for two more.

  Indie shoots hers, refusing to tear her eyes off of Tanner, who’s now surrounded by more girls and a few teammates.

  Tonight was a bad idea.

  “Hello, ladies,” a low voice utters from the other side of my stool, breaking through my cone of hell.

  I turn and am surprised to see Tanner’s fellow striker, Roan DeWalt, commandeering the spot right beside me. I’ve only seen him play once since he joined Bethnal, but he’s one of those footballers you can’t not know. He looks like a movie star with his caramel skin and super light brown eyes that suck you in.

  He smiles kindly right at me. “How are we this evening?”

  “Hi, Roan,” Indie practically growls over her shoulder, still watching Tanner like a creepy Peeping Tom while chugging down her wine like water.

  “Hey, Doc.” He gestures to the guy standing next to him. “This is my mate, Adam. He’s a friend visiting from back home.”

  “Hello, Adam,” I say, reaching out to shake both their hands because Indie seems to have lost all common courtesy.

  Roan holds my grip for longer than necessary, his eyes dropping down to my bare shoulder and drinking in every beauty mark speckling my flesh.

  He finally releases my hand and furrows his brow at Indie, who’s still horribly distracted. “Everything all right, Doc?”

  She swerves her slanted eyes to him. “I’m thinking it might not be, Roan.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” He looks at me.

  My eyes snap to his with fierce intensity. I reach out and grab his shoulders. “I’m good with a scalpel. How are you with a shovel?”

  “What?” He looks completely confused, his perfect skin forming a single crease between his brows.

  “Oh never mind.” I turn away from him, grab my next shot that’s been kindly delivered, and down it like a champ.

  “So you’re friends with our lovely doc here?” Roan asks, his voice far too low and smooth, reaching places inside of me that haven’t been touched since Tanner.

  My answer is short and clipped, trying to quiet the beast inside. “Yep, since med school.”

  “So you’re a doctor, too?”

  “She saves babies,” Indie adds, grabbing her shot, drinking it, and training her eyes back on Tanner, whom I can’t bring myself to look at again.

  “I really wish people would stop saying it like that.” Indie should know better.

  “Is that what you do?” I can feel Roan’s eyes on me. They are the same eyes that all men get when they first discover my profession and all their fantasies pop into the forefront of their minds.

  I turn my drooping eyes to Roan who’s blatantly checking me out. I smile coyly. “Let me guess, you’re envisioning a naughty nurse scenario right now?”

  He nearly chokes on his lager. “How did you guess?”

  I shrug. “Call it female intuition.”

  “I’m good with naughty doctor, too.” He waggles his brows right at me.

  This feels right. This exchange. This pithy banter. It’s what I excel at. Indie and I spent our Tequila Sunrise nights dancing at clubs and I never had a problem pulling guys. It was as easy as breathing for me. This is exactly what I need in order to forget about Tanner and the Harris Hoes he’s currently talking his stupid, ape-like drivel to.

  I bite my lip and then ask quietly, “Would you be a bad patient?”

  His smirk is pure sex. “I’d be whatever you want, babe.”

  I roll my eyes, hating his answer.

  “Belle!” Indie shouts my name as if she’s been saying it for a while. I swerve my head to look at her and nearly fall off my stool when I find a seething Tanner standing three feet away from me, nose to nose with a small but fearsome Indie. Well, more like chest to nose.

  “What do you need, Tanner?” Indie asks, crossing her tiny arms over her chest like she’s a seven-foot-tall bodyguard.

  “I was just coming to say hello.” Tanner’s voice is deep and threatening as he cuts his eyes past me to Roan and then back to me again. “Surprised to see you here, Ryan.”

  Roan looks at me. “You’re Belle Ryan?” I nod and watch realisation dawn on him. His hands go up as if to say he didn’t touch me. He looks at Tanner and says, “I didn’t know.” He rises and slinks away with his friend on his tail, repeating once more, “I really didn’t know.”

  I roll my eyes and turn around on my stool, fully facing Tanner and noting his fists gripped tightly by his sides. The tension radiating in his shoulders is palpable.

  He makes a move to get past Indie, but she jumps over to stop him. “You can stay right where you are or go back to your mates. We’re just fine over here.”

  Tanner’s eyes narrow as he tilts his head at Indie. “Et tu Brute?”

  She huffs at his Julius Caesar reference and then shakes her head. “Well, you looked rather busy over there!” Her attempt at catty comes out more plucky, like a cute bird, but I know she’s pulling out the big guns for me. She’s probably on her way to full on pissed after our hasty wine and shot consumption.

  The bartender drops a third set of shots in front of me, and I hear Tanner growl as I throw it back.

  “Belle, we need to talk. Call off your guard and come with me.”

  I turn to pin him with my dark gaze. The anger and desperation pouring off of him makes my voice tremble. “Indie is operating of her own free will, Tanner. Unlike you.”

  He rolls his eyes. “A word. Now.” A muscle ticks beneath his bearded jaw, and I can feel my dramatic side calling to me like a drug in response. I want to take my wine and throw it in his face for thinking he can bark orders at me. But last time I did that, he ended up snogging me senseless. So instead of crazy, perhaps I’ll try mature and logical.

  I exhale and stand, moving past Indie and feeling a bit more wobbly on my feet than I did when we first arrived. Indie doesn’t look much better as she gives me a drunken nod of solidarity.

  “I’ll be right here,” she says, taking a big gulp of her wine as Tanner grabs me around the waist like some Neanderthal.

  “I’m perfectly capable of walking without your paws on me,” I hiss quietly in his ear, not wanting to give the spectators the satisfaction of a scene.

  “I’m about ready to fucking spank you in front of everyone, so just shut up and keep walking,” he growls, ushering us in the direction of the loos.

  The nerve of him! “You better not be taking me to the same place you took that other girl,” I seethe, my hand biting into his forearm so hard my knuckles turn white. “Great snag by the way. She looks like a walking Tesco. Cheap, cheerful, and open all hours.”

  A grumble comes from deep in his chest as we round the corner and he continues us past the loos and to the rear exit. He slams his hand hard on the door, shoving it open into a small, dimly lit alley where a couple of vehicles are parked. The cool autumn air is cleansing on my tequila-soaked brain cells.

  Tanner shuffles me backwards until my back is pressed against a brick wall. The yellow bulb sconce casts just enough light for me to see him lick his lips. Without a word, he cups my face and slams his mouth to mine.

  Shock and pain are the first reactions my body has. Then need and want come rolling in like fog in the night. The taste of him is familiar, even with the spicy whiskey on his tongue. It’s all heady and strong, and I feel the ache in my body to get completely lost in it.

  But I won’t. I’m stronger than that. I shove him away with a well-deserved slap across his face that he doesn’t even react to.

  “What the fuck, Tanner?” I touch the tender spot on my lip where his teeth bit in to. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He shakes his head and moves closer to me again, sliding his hands down my body and gripping my waist firmly. He exhales heavily as he looks down at the space between our chests. His voice is like sandpaper when he utters, “There�
�s a lot I want to do and say, but first we need to get one thing straight.” His steely eyes bore into me. “You are mine, Belle. In whatever fucked up way we’re doing this right now, you are mine.”

  His words stun me and his close proximity brings a heaviness to my chest.

  “You know this is all a lie!”

  That is apparently not the response he was looking for. His eyes turn to slits and he rips himself away from me. He begins aggressively pacing the alley, looking a whole lot like a gorilla pounding the ground in front of its cave. Grateful for the space, I drag in a huge breath and attempt to slow my heart rate before it pops out of my chest.

  “So that’s why you’re here flirting with DeWalt?” He shoots me a venomous look, pushing his hair back behind his ears. “Because this is all a lie and you’re looking for the real deal to fuck?”

  “No!” I answer with a haughty bark. “DeWalt is nothing.”

  “Well then, what do you want?” he roars.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do.”

  “Oh, then by all means, enlighten me,” I snarl.

  Suddenly, he moves close to me again, towering over me. One hand is pressed on the wall by my head while the other grazes all over my body but never actually touches me. Every deep inhale of breath I take brings me closer to his hand, but he continually adjusts his location so he never actually lays a finger on me.

  “You want me, Belle.”

  I scoff and look away. “How could I? You’re acting like a bloody maniac.”

  “For you.” His voice is guttural and I can’t help but meet his eyes. They are so blue and probing I can hardly breathe. “I act like a maniac for you. We have issues, but past all of them is the fact that I want you and you want me.”

  My jaw juts out defiantly, shaking my silent refusal but feeling an alarming tickling sensation on my shoulder blade.

  “Say the words, Belle,” he pleads, dropping his face down closer to mine.

  I can smell him. I can taste him. His lips are only a centimetre from mine, so close I could stick my tongue out and touch them if I wanted.