The second quarter got under way and it was much more ferocious and fast paced than the first. There were a few bruising hits and a few guys from both teams stumbled from the ground holding their bloody heads, but the scores were close. Derek reappeared about halfway through the quarter bringing supplies. After handing Zoe and I each a meat pie, he handed me a beer and Zoe a Coke.
“What? Don’t I get a beer?” Zoe questioned, looking flustered.
“Umm…sorry, Zoe. I didn’t…I d-didn’t think. Here, have mine,” Derek stuttered.
I couldn’t hold back my laugh. Zoe was taking the piss. She had no intention of drinking his beer but to watch a full grown man fall all over himself was hilarious. And after he scared the shit out of me earlier, he deserved it. Payback was a bitch.
“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just go without,” Zoe huffed, taking a bite from her pie.
“Zoe, please…”
I watched on in amused silence as Derek tried to hand over his drink and Zoe refused to take it, but after a few moments it didn’t seem funny anymore. It just seemed sad. “Derek, she’s just trying to make you feel bad. Pippi doesn’t want your beer. She just wants to watch you to squirm,” I assured him, taking a swig of my own.
“Zoe…” Derek’s tone was full of warning.
Zoe looked up at him, fluttered her eyelashes, and pouted her pretty little mouth. It had exactly the same effect on him that it did on me. He melted. “Ah shit!” he swore, gulping down mouthfuls of the amber liquid. “You’re just cruel, Pippi.”
“You love me anyway.” She grinned before blowing him a kiss and taking another bite from her pie.
I saw a small piece of meat catch on her bottom lip and an uncontrollable urge to reach out and lick it off consumed me. Finishing my beer in one long swallow, I tried to force the image from my head. It didn’t work. It was still there. As Zoe’s hair danced on the breeze, the scent of her apple shampoo overpowered the scent of stale beer and hot chips, then hung in the air. Groaning, I readjusted my jeans. Again. All I could do was hope like hell I didn’t bump Zoe in the back of the head as I did so. That was the last thing I needed right now. I thought I’d been discreet, but as it turns out, I hadn’t been anywhere near discreet enough. Derek noticed my situation and couldn’t help himself. He burst out into a boisterous fit of embarrassing laughter.
“What’d I miss?” Zoe asked, searching our faces.
“Nothing,” I replied quickly.
I could tell she didn’t believe me. Her eyes darted from mine to Derek’s and back again, then with a reluctant shake of her head she let it go. At least for now.
Focusing my attention back on the game was harder than ever, but somehow I managed. We were playing badly. The only thing keeping us in touch was that their goal kicking was equally abysmal tonight. It was a shoot out, but neither team seem to be able to convert. When a melee broke out on centre wing, I wasn’t shocked to see Kane at the bottom of the pile and the one placed on report. He was hot headed and more than once I’d had to grab him by the scruff of the neck and tell him to pull his head out of his ass. Tonight I wasn’t out there to do it. Hopefully someone else would step up and do the honours.
“So Zoe, what do you think of our small town version?” Derek engaged.
“It’s different.”
“Different how?”
Shrugging, Zoe finished off her pie and licked her fingers. My stomach clenched. Forcing my gaze from her lips and back on the game, I watched her from the corner of my eye. “Well, I usually go to a couple of games through the season, but everything seems like it’s different. I mean, when I go to the games, I very rarely get hit with a football just sitting in the stands, and tonight I’ve almost been knocked out at least half a dozen times.”
I chuckled a deep belly laugh. She was right. Balls were being kicked by uncoordinated kids in every direction. Twice I’d deflected a wayward kick from smacking Zoe in the face.
“Yeah, I could see how that would be different.”
“Definitely. A little more dangerous too.” Zoe giggled and I’ll admit it was like music to my ears. “Don’t even get me started on the commentary.”
“Commentary?” I asked, completely unsure where she was headed.
“Yeah, from the bench. I mean, I’ve been to the MCG and I’ve never heard the coach yell to his players that he would have to drink his beer from his boot for missing a set shot directly in front.”
“You know what makes that even funnier? I’ll bet you twenty bucks, Zoe, that there’s an esky on the bench that isn’t filled with Gatorade and oranges.” Derek sniggered.
Zoe looked completely baffled. “Huh?”
“I’ll bet you it’s filled with beer…”
“No!” Zoe questioned, her face filled with disbelief. “Spencer?”
I couldn’t stop laughing. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. The look of complete shock was written all over her innocent face. “Sorry, Zoe. It’s probably not just beer. There’s probably a couple of rum cans in there too.”
“That’s terrible!” she admonished.
