For those of you who, like me, are rugby challenged, let me explain. Each player’s number, from one to fifteen, tells us what position they play. So number ten is always the fly-half. Number two is called the hooker, and so on.
So to hear that Cooke Thompson is “the best ten” means he must be very good at his position, which doesn’t surprise me. I am surprised Cooke hasn’t bragged about his skills. Sure, he’s joked about his talents, but he’d have to be good to be a professional. Now, after seeing him on television and hearing what this guy next to me has to say, maybe heshouldbe tooting his own horn a bit more often.
“Yep, the best,” says the big guy next to me.
I smile at him, then hold out my hand. “I’m Quinn.”
He places his giant hand in mine. “Mulroney.”
“Your first name is Mulroney?”
“No, it’s Dan. I thought Quinn was your last name.”
“Nope. Quinn Maxwell.”
“Hmm, cool.”
I turn to the television and see play has started again. Cooke really is amazing. He’s got aCon his jersey, which I already know stands for captain because Dan told me so. I can see why. He’s the guy who seems to be organizing the plays. Not only that, he kicks the ball well, and he’s made some passes to his teammates that seem impossible.
“He’s so good.” I’ll have to tell him so the next time he sends a text.
Hell, why wait? I pull my phone out and shoot off a quick text.
Me:At a local pub watching you kick ass on the pitch. You’re amazing, Cooke, and my new friend Dan thinks so too.
Chapter Thirteen
Cooke
As soon aswe’ve done our celebrating and our manager has said his “good job, lads” speech, I move to my locker and grab my phone. Unlocking the screen, I see the usual congratulatory messages from me mum and me baby sister, Saffron. I also see one from Quinn and smile. That is until I read it.
Quinn: At a local pub watching you kick ass on the pitch. You’re amazing, Cooke, and my new friend Dan thinks so too.
I feel my teeth grit and my nostrils flare because “Who the bloody hell isDan?”
Chapter Fourteen
Ihaven’t gotten a response from Cooke all week. I knew he had another match in Japan because I looked up his schedule online, so I’ve no doubt that he’s been busy preparing for that. The fourteen-hour time difference between Iowa and Japan makes chatting more complicated, and I don’t really want to call him since I have no idea what he’s doing.
What the heck am I saying?Of coursehe hasn’t written back or called. I’m an idiot—just some stupid girl from the US who he called accidentally. He doesn’t have time for me now that his season has started. His life is much more exciting and interesting than mine. I was probably just a little distraction before his rugby stuff started for real. But I can’t help it. I looked forward to hearing from him. He made me laugh, and I think I did the same for him.
Sigh.
I need to accept that my little friendship with a rugby superstar, English dreamboat, and a very nice guy are over. Sadly.
It doesn’t matter. I’m busy too, especially since I’ve added my daily walk at the ass-crack of dawn into my routine. So far, the other girls are still on board with our walks and have gotten up with Pats and me. It’s been nice to have everyone walk in the morning. I’ve gotten to know them much better because of it. It helps that they don’t put on any pretenses. They’re not awake yet, so to say my roommates are blunt at six in the morning is an understatement.
Another good thing is we ran into our neighbor Jack again. He’s cute in a hipster kind of way. You know, with his perfectly trimmed beard, light brown hair cut short on the sides but longer on top that he puts product in, and his plaid shirts and colored jeans. Yeah, I’m making him sound like he dresses like an A-hole. He doesn’t. It’s too bad I weigh more than he does.
As Susanna sips her breakfast smoothie, she asks, “What’re you doing today?”
I’ve showered and changed after our walk and am enjoying a delightful piece of toast with peanut butter.Yay, protein!“I’ve got to find a job.” I’ve put off the job hunt for long enough since I’m now seriously low on funds. My financial aid only goes so far. I’ve got just enough for rent, utilities, school, and books. That’s it. After that, I’m on my own. I shouldn’t have spent twenty bucks at The London Underground last week. I could sure use that today.
“Have you tried the mall?”
“I haven’t.” The mall is clear across town. My scooter would get me there, but in the winter, I’d have to take the bus. That’d be at least an hour each way. But it’s an option, at least. “I’ll check it out.”
“Cy’s is hiring,” Robbi says, stepping into the kitchen. “My friend Chris works there, and he said they had to fire one of the bartenders.” She turns to face me. “They were stealing.”
