Undefeated

by Reardon, Stuart

  Nick finished dressing, drank more water and salts to stop himself from getting a cramp during the game, then pulled on his lucky Speedos as if they were body armour, feeling safe and protected because he was wearing them. He knew it was stupid—they were just briefs—but with Anna’s belief behind him, he felt invincible.

  Finally, he laced up his boots and stood ready with the rest of the team for the referee and assistants to do a boot check, as well as talk to the Captain and the front rows.

  He wasn’t nervous, he was eager. He had a lot to prove.

  A team meeting with Sim Andrews and the assistant coaches followed, meaning another re-cap of tactics.

  Then Sim stood in front of the team, his eyes bright, pride on his face.

  “Well, here we are, lads. First game of the season. You’ve worked hard to get here. We’ve got some new players and it’s time to show what you can do. Everything we’ve worked on, it’s time to put it into practice. The Club’s invested a lot of money in the lads we’ve got here and we’ve had a great pre-season. Remember your individual goals and your team goals. You need to go and outplay your opposite number—do that and there’s no way we’ll lose! The fans are here, you need to show them what we’re made of. We’re going to play our game not their game, and I expect you all to be respectful of the referee. I’ve done all I can,” and he paused, looking each of them in the eye, “now it’s time to show me what you boys can do. Go out there and do your best and I’ll see you at half-time.”

  As Sim left the locker room, Nick’s blood roared. He wanted to pound his chest like Tarzan and take on the opposition single-handed as they went into warmup drills, then hitting the pads, preparing their bodies for the flesh on flesh collisions that were a key element of a rough sport.

  His blood thundered and he saw the grim determination on the faces of his teammates.

  They finished the warmup with a quick lap of the field, and for the first time Nick experienced the heady feeling of hearing tens of thousands of people cheering him on. It was the most extraordinary, powerful feeling.

  Back in the locker room, they had a few moments of personal time, and Nick studied the goals he’d written down for this game, the tackle counts and hit-ups.

  The seconds ticked down toward the kick-off and each man inserted their mouth guards as Calvin rose to give his Captain’s speech.

  “You heard what Coach said. We don’t want to let him down and we don’t want to let the fans down. We know how good we can be if we play well. If we stick to the game-plan, we’ll win this game. We all know what we’ve got to do, don’t we?”

  The team roared as one.

  “YEEEEEAH!”

  Game time.

  23rd September

  SURREPTITIOUSLY, NICK PICKED up his phone and texted Anna.

  Nick: I have to see you.

  Anna: You should be training right now!

  Nick: I’m taking a break.

  Anna: You have a match on Sunday.

  Nick: Yeah. I don’t have one tonight. Can I come over?

  Anna: Of course. I miss you.

  25th September

  Anna: It was so hard seeing you at the Club today. I wanted to take you into the physio room and have my wicked way with you.

  Nick: How wicked?

  Anna: Use your imagination.

  Nick: Fuck, I’m walking around with a chubby now.

  Anna: Dead puppies. Dead puppies.

  Nick: What?!

  Anna: I was trying to help with your little problem.

  Nick: There’s nothing little about my problem.

  Anna: #truth

  30th September

  Nick: I’m coming over tonight.

  Anna: Aren’t the guys at the house getting suspicious?

  Nick: Yeah.

  Anna: What do you tell them?

  Nick: Nothing. It’s none of their business.

  Anna: I hate this.

  Nick: I know.

  Anna: Where do they think you go at night?

  Anna: Nick?

  Nick: They think I’m seeing a married woman.

  Anna: WTF? Why would they think that? Oh, because you’re always sneaking around. Ugh. I reeeeally hate this.

  Nick: If we went to Sim and explained . . .

  Anna: No. I’d be fired. And you’d be benched.

  Nick: I wish I could hold you right now.

  Anna: Me 2.

  3rd October

  Anna: OMG!!!!!! MAN OF THE FREAKIN’ MATCH! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!

  Nick: It’s insane here. I’ve got paps taking photos of me.

  Anna: That’s because you’re insanely sexy.

  Nick: Haha.

  Anna: You are!

  Nick: You’re the sexy one.

  Anna: We’ll have to agree to disagree. Enjoy your post-match dinner!

  Nick: I wish you could be here.

  Anna: I know. Have fun.

  Nick: I have more fun with you.

  15th October

  Anna: They’re renewing my contract with the Phoenixes.

  Nick: Shit!

  Nick: Sorry, I don’t mean that. I just hate that we have to hide this.

  Anna: I know.

  21st October

  Nick: Training was shit today.

  Anna: What’s up?

  Nick: Sim Andrews was being a right bastard. The guy needs to get laid.

  Anna: Definitely not your problem!

  Nick: LOL!

  Nick: Show us yer tits!

  Anna: Very mature.

  Nick: Sorry. Would you show me your gorgeous breasts?

  Anna: Yeah, that’s not gonna work.

  Nick: [sends photo of chest]

  Anna: Very nice. I’m still not sending you a photo of my boobs.

  Nick: Spoilsport.

  Anna: [sends photo of one boob]

  Nick: You only have one boob?

  Anna: You only just noticed?

  Nick: Both boobs. Please!

  Anna: No.

  Nick: Spoilsport.

  Anna: You already said that.

  Nick: I thought you might change your mind.

  Anna: Nope. But you can see in person later.

  Nick: I’m on my way home now!

  Anna: Can you bring Thai? I’m starving.

  Nick: Will do.

  Anna: Love you!

  Nick: <3 <3 <3

  14th November

  Anna: Nick! Why are you sending me dick pics!

  Nick: That fucker!

  Anna: What?

  Nick: Gio stole my phone.

  Anna: OMG! Is that Giovanni’s dick?

  Nick: Yup.

  Anna: Yuk.

  Anna: Should I be worried? What name am I stored under on your phone?

  Nick: Doctor.

  Anna: You’re kidding me!

  Nick: Nope.

  Nick: What name do you store me under?

  Anna: Seventeen. Like your jersey.

  Nick: Nice.

  Anna: And because you gave me 17 orgasms our first weekend together.

  Nick: I thought only guys kept score.

  Anna: Who told you that?

  Nick: An ex-girlfriend.

  Anna: She lied.

  Nick: Oh shit!

  Anna: It’s okay. You have a good overall average.

  Nick: Do you seriously keep score?!

  Anna: Are you worried?

  Nick: No!

  Anna: Not even a little bit?

  Nick: I am now!

  14th November

  Anna: I love you. I miss you when you’re away.

  Nick: I love you too. The bed’s too big without you. And Jason snores.

  Anna: So do you.

  Nick: I don’t!

  Anna: Yes, you do.

  Nick: Really?

  Anna: Only a little bit. It’s more like a sort of soft snuffling. It’s quite cute.

  Nick: You snore.

  Anna: No way!

  Nick: I thought there was a herd of water buffalo in the
room.

  Anna: That is so mean!!!

  Nick: Kidding!

  Nick: Mostly.

  Anna: Do I really snore?

  Nick: Yeah, a bit.

  Anna: I’m so embarrassed.

  Nick: Don’t be. I love everything about you.

  Anna: I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

  Nick: Does that mean you’ll send me a photo of your boobs?

  Anna: [sends photo of boobs, no face]

  Nick: Shit, I’ve got a dong like a donkey now!

  Anna: Furry?!

  Anna: You asked for it!

  Nick: You’re fucking killing me!

  Anna: I have to go. I’m having dinner with Brendan.

  Nick: ‘kay. Have fun. Not too much fun. Call me later?

  Anna: Will do! Love ya!

  Nick: <3 <3 <3

  19th November

  Nick: Meet me in Physio Room 2 in 10 mins.

  Anna: I can’t. I’m working.

  Nick: 7 mins.

  Anna: I can’t!

  Nick: Do you want me to beg? I’ll beg. I want to be inside you!

  Anna: On my way.

  Nick: That was so fucking hot!

  Anna: Shh! Sim is looking at me!

  Nick: That thing you did with your tongue stud was insane!

  Anna: Go away!

  Nick: I can’t stop thinking about you.

  Anna: I’m working!

  Nick: You are so fucking sexy. I’m a lucky bastard.

  Anna: Ditto.

  Nick: See you at home.

  Anna: :)

  20th November

  Nick: Do you want me to get takeout for tea, or are we cooking tonight?

  Nick: Are you there?

  Nick: You’re freaking me out here! You’re not answering your phone. Are you ok?

  Anna: Sorry. I was talking to my dad.

  Nick: Shit! I nearly had a heart attack.

  Nick: Is everything ok?

  Anna: Not really?

  Nick: ?

  Anna: We just had a massive fight. He kept telling me I was being a fool for dating you because of the no-fraternization policy. He kept going on and on. He doesn’t understand.

  Nick: He’s just worried about you. He loves you.

  Anna: I know. But he really hurt me.

  Nick: I’ll kick his arse.

  Anna: He’s 6’ 5” and weighs 290 pounds.

  Nick: I’ll kick his arse then run really fast.

  Anna: I love you.

  Nick: You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Anna: Better than playing for the Phoenixes?

  Nick: Always.

  Anna: When did you get to be so sweet?

  Nick: I mean it.

  Anna: Thank you.

  Anna: I love you.

  Nick: :)

  Nick: Thai?

  Anna: Yes, please.

  “USUALLY PEOPLE ARE a bit more excited when I call them. I am speaking to Nick Renshaw?”

  Excited? Nick’s brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. He rubbed his eyes as Anna stirred sleepily next to him.

  “Who is it?” she asked, her morning voice so husky it sent a bolt of lust through Nick.

  As least it woke him up, and he put the phone back to his ear.

  “Yep, this is Nick Renshaw. Sorry, who’s this again?”

  “Eddie Jones, Head Coach for the England Rugby Union team.”

  Nick grunted disbelievingly.

  “Yeah, right. Who put you up to this? Because you’ve got the voice really well.”

  “I spoke to Mark Lipman this morning. Perhaps you’d like to talk to him.”

  For a moment, Nick paused.

  “Oh, you’re good, mate, throwing in Mark’s name. Seriously, who put you up to this? Was it Giovanni? No, hang on, was it Jason? Or Bernard?”

  The reply was sharp with irritation.

  “I suggest you talk to your agent and when he’s stopped cacking himself laughing, he’ll tell you to find your passport and pull your head out of your arse. You’ve been called to play for your country—although I’m beginning to doubt that decision. Have a nice day. Mate.”

  By now, Nick was wide awake and Anna was sitting up next to him looking concerned.

  A hot flash of embarrassment coloured Nick’s cheeks as he dialled his agent with shaking hands. Had he just made a right royal tit of himself with Eddie Jones? The Eddie Jones, the newly appointed Head Coach of the Rugby Union England team?

  Mark answered on the first ring.

  “I’ve been sitting by this bloody phone waiting for you to ring me,” he said acidly. “Eddie Jones called at 7.30 this morning. Did he tell you that Alex Bruce is out with a broken femur? Congratulations, Nick, your first cap for England. I always said it would happen. Well done, lad.”

  “Thanks,” Nick said, and then more faintly, “Shit!”

  “Pardon?”

  Nick groaned as he ran through every stupid word that he’d said to England’s Head Coach.

  “Everything alright?” Mark asked.

  “Yep, fine. All good. Great. Never better. Wow.”

  “Well . . . I’ll email over the details, but you’ll be playing in the side against Ireland at Twickenham on 13th February. Okay?”

  Twickenham—the home of English rugby—82,000 fans. Holy shit!

  “Yep, all good. Bloody fantastic! Thanks, Mark. Sorry to disturb your Sunday.”

  “Not a problem, son. I don’t mind being disturbed for news like this. Well done. You’ve worked hard.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Anna.

  Nick dropped his phone on the bed, a huge grin lighting up his face, pride swelling inside him. I’m good enough to play for my country.

  His throat dried as he tried to find the words—the most amazing feelings of achievement, hope and success washed through him.

  “I’ve been selected to play for England.”

  “Oh my God!”

  Anna shrieked and threw herself at him so suddenly, he fell backwards against the headboard.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! This is the best news ever! I’m so proud of you! I knew you’d do it! All your hard work, I knew it! I love you!”

  She kissed him hard then leaned back. Tears sparkled in her serious grey eyes. Gently, he swiped a thumb under her eyes, then kissed the tears away.

  An hour later, he picked up his phone again to call his parents with the good news.

  His mum was the second woman he’d made cry that morning.

  Happy tears.

  Four days later, Anna finished reading The Independent’s double-page spread with satisfaction. There was a similar feature with a splashier headline in the tabloid newspaper The Sun.

  RENSURE! Nick picked for England team!

  Nick Renshaw is the shooting star of Finchley Phoenixes, resurrecting his career with an angelic host of fantastic tries and devilishly delightful footwork that has put the formerly ailing team at the top of the Championship table.

  Nick, dubbed ‘the hunky honey of Hangar Lane’, has now added to his accolades by being picked to play for England by new Head Coach Eddie Jones.

  “Nick is quick on the ball and has a good eye for the game. I’ve been impressed with how he’s played for the Phoenixes.”

  “Hey, did you know they’re calling you ‘the hunky honey of Hangar Lane’?”

  Nick rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen, just a towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water glistening on his shoulders and chest.

  “I don’t know why you read that stuff.”

  Anna laughed.

  “Are you kidding me? I’m having it framed so I can look at my own ‘hunky honey’ every day.”

  Nick growled as he bent down and kissed her neck.

  “If you put it up anywhere, I’ll use it for a dartboard.”

  “I was going to put it in the bathroom,” she teased him.

  “Yeah, shove it in the bog. Best place for it.”

  Sh
e eyed him thoughtfully.

  “How does it feel, being picked to play for your country?”

  Nick closed his eyes briefly, a small smile playing on his face. When he opened them again, she saw the calmness inside. He’d weathered the storm and come out stronger.

  “I feel proud, honoured. I know the hard work it’s taken to get me here.”

  He knelt down in front of her, his arms encircling her waist as he buried his head in her chest.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  She smiled and kissed his damp hair.

  “Yes you could. You were already doing it before I came along. You would have made it with or without me. I’m so proud of you, Nick.”

  He lifted his head, his eyes solemn.

  “I love you, Anna.”

  “I love you, too. Hunky honey.”

  His eyes darkened and he swept her up, slung her over his shoulder, and sprinted to the bedroom.

  Anna shrieked, pulling his towel free and swatting his bare ass.

  “Put me down! I can’t be late for work!”

  Nick didn’t listen. He tossed her onto the bed and ripped open her robe, making fast and furious love to her.

  Already hard, he thrust inside, loving the feeling as her heels dug into his backside.

  Minutes later, she sat up panting and Nick checked the bedside clock as he rolled onto his side.

  “Got you off in four minutes,” he said with a huge, satisfied smile on his face.

  “That’s not necessarily a recommendation,” Anna laughed, still gasping. “Although it could be another reason your nickname is the Rocket.”

  Nick grinned up at her. “You said you didn’t want to be late for work.”

  She couldn’t argue with that.

  “That was an awesome orgasm,” she said sleepily.

  She saw the smug grin of satisfaction on Nick’s face.

  “Hey, that wasn’t all you!” she protested. “I’m responsible for at least half of the awesomeness, buster!”

  “So you said. Hey, I’m going to cook for you tonight! Cottage Pie with garden peas.”

  “Aha! The world famous Cottage Pie that isn’t a pie! I can’t wait. Sounds good to me. Maybe I’ll bring home some sticky toffee pudding for you.”

  Nick’s eyes turned misty.

  “And custard,” he said in a dreamy voice.

  Anna laughed. She was happy to indulge his sweet tooth. She was happy to indulge him, period.