So why was I scouring the Internet for stories about the man who had made me orgasm in a bar bathroom?
One article said his father had left his family when he was a teenager. That momentarily softened me towards him.
Then I saw a series of pictures that showed him with his tongue down some starlet’s throat and all good feelings towards him vanished.
I looked up the game he had invited me to. It was the season opener for Chester Athletic and it was at home, which apparently was a big deal. They were playing against the Bolton Flyers, whoever they were. Tickets had apparently been sold out for weeks.
Part of me wanted to go. I was interested to see the famous Lucas Bradley in action.
But another part of me said to forget about it. That playing along with whatever he was doing was a bad idea.
I knew, given Lucas’ apparent reputation that he wasn’t looking for anything but a good time. Someone to feed his ego and his sex drive.
I wasn’t that kind of girl.
Never had been.
Yet…
I looked around my dingy apartment—sorry,flat—and felt depressed. The paint was peeling and there was the distinct smell of sewage that wafted from the kitchen sink. I wished I could say I was enjoying my time in England more than I was, but then I’d be lying.
I barely had enough money for rent and utilities, let alone to actually go out and do things, like I had planned to. I had wanted to get down to London for the weekend, to see Buckingham Palace and The Tower of London. But when I looked at the cost of train tickets and hotels in the capital, I balked.
I loved Chester. It was a beautiful city but things were so much more expensive in England. I hadn’t counted on that when I had decided to move here. In truth I hadn’t researched things at all.
I remembered watching a documentary on the English countryside and had imagined my life full of wandering through the moors and walking through rolling, green pastures.
I had pictured myself, wearing a proper pair of green Wellington boots and a tweed jacket, ambling along winding paths. Instead I was stuck in a run down flat with mold growing in the corners.
I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself.
Sure, I was lonely. Sure, I didn’t have any friends. Sure, I was bordering on sad and pathetic, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t change it.
Maybe I should go to that game on Saturday. The tickets were free. Why not?
And who knows, maybe things with Lucas could lead to some much needed excitement.
I knew better than to expect anything more than that. But as for a temporary distraction, why the hell not?
But that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for him.
“SO, IHAVEtickets to the Chester game this Saturday. Do you think you’d like to go with me?”
Phil’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? How in the hell did you get them? Season ticket holders snatched them up before they could even be offered to the general public,” Phil exclaimed.
“Whoa, you’re going to drop your tea,” I said, smiling, taking the mug from his hands and putting it on the counter. “Someone gave me a couple of tickets, no big deal,” I replied offhandedly.
“No big deal? That’s a huge deal!” Phil seemed beside himself. Did everyone get this worked up about soccer in this country? He reached for his tea again, trying to compose himself. “Did Lucas Bradley give them to you? You seemed friendly at the pub.” He dumped a spoonful of sugar into his tea and stirred vigorously.
“Does it matter where I got them? I thought you’d like to come. So is that a yes?” I put a tea bag in my cup and poured hot water over top. I never knew how long to keep the bag in. I was having a ridiculously difficult time figuring out how to make a decent cup of tea. Either it was too weak or too strong. Too milky. Or not enough sugar. It shouldn’t be that hard. I had an engineering degree for Christ’s sake.
“Sure. Sounds like fun,” Phil said, reining in his excitement. “But seriously, did Lucas Bradley hook you up? Because that’s cool I suppose.” He sounded as though he were chewing on broken glass. As much as Phil liked football, he didn’t appear to jazzed about the idea that Lucas had given me the tickets.
“What about Lucas Bradley? What are we talking about?” Charlie asked, followed by Hayley. Suddenly the breakroom felt very, very small.
“Morgan just invited me to the Chester game this weekend,” Phil filled them in, puffing his chest out slightly.
“How did you jimmy that?” Charlie asked in disbelief.
