“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck so I can kiss him. “This is more real life.”
“Yeah, well,” he laughs against my Cupid’s bow.
“Blake?”
“Mhm.”
“I really like you, too.”
Chapter 25
Calla
Ifollow Blake onto a large stretch of lush green field, noticing the goal posts already set up, the white markings on the floor painted with precision. A handful of men are already kicking about a half-deflated ball, each of them sporting a bright red jersey with a different number splayed across their back.
“Blake!” one shouts, waving us over when they notice us.
“Boys.” Blake grins. “I bought someone I’d like you to meet.”
Five faces, none of which I recognise, peer at me.
“This is Calla.”
I raise a hand in a silent wave.
“We heard Millen finally bagged himself a lass,” says a redhead man sporting a large number nine of his back. The lilt of his Scottish brogue still colours his thick accent. “Nice to meet ye.”
“Yeah, we’re happy for ya, mate.” Another man pats Blake on the back. “But I know a few women who aren’t going to be.”
His joke earns a round of chuckles from the other boys,but I pay them no heed. I’m not surprised. Blake’s the total package; kind, patient, funny, attractive. He even knows how to cook and how to clean up after himself. He’s the kind of man women dream about and he’s mine.
All mine.
“Very funny,” Blake replies dryly, draping his arm over my shoulders and pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “Ignore these idiots, sunshine. They think themselves comedians. I wouldn’t quit your day job, boys. Not if I were you.”
I huff out a laugh at that. “Where did you all meet?”
“Uni,” number four answers with a cheeky grin.
We stand chatting for a short time, mainly making small talk while the summer breeze blows through the blades of grass at our feet.
“I’m gonna go and get the cones we need for our warmup,” Blake eventually whispers into my ear. “Wanna come with?”
I nod, pressing my lips to his and ignoring the wolf whistles directed our way.
“We’re gonna go get the cones and…” Blake peers at the deflated football. “The pump, as well, before the match starts”
“No funny business in the shed, you two!”
Blake rolls his eyes playfully, cuffing his old school friend around the head before he grabs my hand, dragging me away.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye as we walk towards a small, rundown shack, a smirk dancing about my lips. “So, you’ve got yourself some admirers, hm?”
Blake simply shakes his head.
“You should’ve told me. I would have bought my boxing gloves, so I could fend them off.”
“You own a pair of boxing gloves?”
