I wanted to see her again.
I’d rather be with her than drinking shitty cider in an empty club.
I tapped out a quick text.
Busy?
Her response was quick.
Who is this?
I grinned thinking I could play with her a bit.
Who do you want it to be?
“Oh my god, you’re Alan Cole!” a girl squealed. A group of women having noticed us at the bar and realizing who we were, had now attached themselves to Alan and Martin.
“I am. And you probably recognize this ugly mug.” Alan clasped my shoulder and I thought about punching him.
“Oh my god! It’s Lucas Bradley! Cheryl, do you see who it is?” a woman with big blond hair exclaimed, grabbing her friend’s hand.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
This is Lucas, isn’t it? No one else is that cheesy over text.
There was no fooling Morgan, that’s for sure.
“Cheryl is such a huge fan, Mr. Bradley,” Blondie was saying.
“It’s Lucas. Mr. Bradley sounds so formal. And we’re all friends here, right?” Alan was smooth. I’d give him that. Within a minute he had drinks for everyone and a girl already on his lap. He moved fast. It was almost admirable.
“Really? That’s nice,” I replied offhandedly, barely sparing the Cheryl woman a glance.
I messaged Morgan back.
How was sightseeing?
Great. The cathedral was amazing. How was training?
Long. I was thinking that we should see each other again.
“Can I get a picture?”
“Huh?” I looked up just in time for a woman to stick her boobs in my face and a flash to go off.
“Thanks so much.” The woman named Cheryl sat down beside me. She had brown hair and too much makeup. “I’m a big fan. My dad has been a Chester supporter since he was a kid. You’re going to do amazing things this season.”
She moved her chair closer, her arm brushing against mine. I knew where this was headed. A couple of weeks ago I would have gone with it. Cheryl was decent looking, even if she gave off the musk of desperation. A quick bang in the bathroom and the night would have been set. Women like Cheryl would do just about anything I wanted them to.
My phone buzzed again and I glanced down at the new message.
That’s rather presumptuous of you.
A few seconds passed and then another message.
I’ll be up for another couple of hours.
Cheryl flipped her hair behind her shoulder and pushed her breasts into my arm. “I must admit, I have a horrible crush on you.” She ran her finger along the lines of the tattoo on my arm. “I think it’s all the ink. And the muscles. And the—”
