“What would I even post? My life isn’t that interesting, I promise you.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just the stuff people already love—training clips, match day routines, maybe a few Q&As. And pretty much anything about Fergie. Trust me, he’s a star in the making.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Really got a thing for him, eh?”
“He literally sang ‘Shake It Off’while hopping around on his perch. You think people won’t eat that up?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I think I’m going to regret this.”
“Too late,” she chirps in a singsong voice. “We’re doing this.”
She grabs her phone and starts typing furiously.
As I sip my juice, I lean my forearms on the counter, grappling with the fact that I’m now being dragged into the very thing I’ve been avoiding for years.
“Right.” She perks up. “First, we’re going to need a handle.”
Chapter 8
Millie
You know the saying, kids: “Never give up.” You can achieve great things with enough determination, and I’m living proof of that.
Callum Murray now has not one, buttwosocial media accounts up and running. He’s even posted a few things we prepared together. As I stride into the training centre, I find myself humming “Shake It Off,” thanks to Fergie, who put it in my head the other day. I was expecting a lot of things when I stepped into Callum’s place—a dark bunker and piles of laundry chief among them—but I would have never guessed he lived in a cute townhouse, beautifully decorated with a freaking adorable parrot. Who is this man?
I march into the gym, and the space is sleek and bright, all high ceilings and spotless mirrors, the hum of treadmills mixing with the low thud of weights hitting rubber flooring. There’s a faint scent of eucalyptus and something citrusy—probably the high-end cleaning spray the staff uses between sessions. A few players at the far end of the room are stretching while others flit between machines and drills in small groups. Exactly the kind of disciplined chaos you’d expect from a Premier League training centre.
On my right, Archie is attempting box jumps on a slightly-too-high platform, shaking out his limbs between attempts like he’s psyching himself up for a stunt.
“Tenner says he stacks it,” Finn mutters, casually curling a dumbbell one-handed as he watches Archie’s struggle.
“I can hear you, Finn,” Archie grunts without looking, knees bent, hands poised. “And I won’t.”
Finn smirks. “Then I just saved ten quid.”
Wade, who’s spotting Cameron on the bench press, glances over with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage him.”
“Encourage me?” Archie scoffs, then finally jumps, landing with a loud thump and a windmilling of arms to stay upright. A smile lights up his face. “That, my friends, was textbook.”
“Textbook for what? Barely surviving?” Cameron sits up, a towel draped around his neck.
“Hey, social media’s here!” Finn calls out, grinning when he notices me. “Hiya, Millie.”
“Hi, guys.” I wave and start filming.
“Want to show our fans where the magic happens?” Archie asks, spreading his arms dramatically like he’s about to reveal a hidden chamber of wonders.
Finn snorts. “Magic? You mean your weird superstition of wearing mismatched socks every single game?”
“So what if I do?” Archie crosses his arms. “They bring balance. My record is proof of that, but let’s find a better topic to discuss, eh? Not very interesting for social media.”
Finn’s eyes are gleaming now. “Oh, yes it is. That, lad, is a crucial bit of information.”
I zoom the camera in on Archie’s socks and laugh. “This is definitely going to end up online.”
“Good,” Finn says. “The people deserve to know.”
Cameron coughs out a laugh. “I think the people deserve better.”
