“Uh sure. Though haven’t you had enough soccer for one day?” I teased, warming to him now that he had solved my television situation.
Lucas settled into the pillows, pulling one onto his lap and holding it to his chest like a teddy bear. Was he actually snuggling with a pillow? I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh. His eyes were glued to the screen. “I live and breathe footie. It’s never enough.”
“You’re lucky to be doing something you love,” I said. The show seemed to only air the highlights of the game, which was good. I didn’t think I could sit through it again, as entertaining as it had been.
Lucas looked at me and nodded. “I know I am. I’m very lucky. There’s not a day that goes by that I forget that. And it could all go away in an instant. I could get injured and that would end my career. I’ve seen it happen too many times to much better players than me.” He bumped my leg with his. “What about you? What do you do? How did a sweet American girl end up in England?”
I shrugged. “I took a job with an IT company here. I thought it would be a great opportunity to do some traveling. To see the world.”
“And have you seen the world yet?” Lucas asked.
“I can barely afford rent and utilities, let alone traveling at the moment. I’m saving to go to Portugal. I’d love to go somewhere hot and sandy.”
“We have lovely beaches here in England, you know. My mum lives in Dorset, right on the coast.”
“Yeah, but the water is only a degree or two above freeze my ass off. No thank you,” I chuckled. “Though there’s a lot I want to see here. I can’t wait to get down to London for a weekend. I’ve wanted to visit the Tower of London and the British Museum for most of my life.”
Lucas let out an exaggerated yawn. “Sounds like a blast.”
“Well, what do you recommend?” I asked him, elbowing him in the arm.
“Anything but dusty old museums and castles.” His attention was pulled to the TV again where a couple of middle aged men sat behind a desk.
“Lucas Bradley was in top form today. When he’s on the break, no one can stop him. Everyone is watching him this season. It’ll be interesting to see if he can maintain this level of play. If he does, he’ll be up there with some of the greats in the league,” one of the men said.
“Ah, so this is why you wanted to watch this show. To have your ego stroked,” I teased.
Lucas grimaced, seeming embarrassed. “Yeah, okay, so it’s nice to hear.”
“One of the greats, huh? Well that’s quite a statement.” I watched him watching the TV.
“That’s a load of bollocks,” he remarked dismissively but he didn’t look away from the television.
I got up and went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of sodas and a bag of popcorn. Back in the living room, I handed Lucas a can.
“Thanks. See, you’re a very a good hostess,” he grinned.
“Well since you’re here, might as well be polite about it.” I grinned back.
I opened the bag of popcorn and Lucas took a handful. We watched the rest of Match of the Day. Lucas seemed excited with the results. I didn’t even pretend to follow his commentary about the teams and players.
“You don’t give a toss about this stuff do you?” he deduced when I didn’t bother to hide a yawn.
“Nope. Not even a little.”
“Okay, fine,” he laughed, tossing the remote to me. “You choose something.”
I flipped through the channels and settled on an old eighties game show where people threw darts. “This is awesome!” I enthused.
“Bullseye is a classic.” Lucas took some more popcorn.
“I really hope they win the microwave oven.”
“Or the phone and answering machine combo,” Lucas added.
“Your game shows are almost as bad as ours,” I said.
“You haven’t lived until you’ve seen the Crystal Maze.” Lucas took my hand. It was a seemingly innocent gesture. But he didn’t let go. He held on. And I let him. We watched the grainy show until a commercial break.
