“Therealgrumpycal?” Finn suggests.
“Shut up. I’m not making an account,” I grumble.
“You heard the boss. We have no choice in the matter,” Finn shoots back, taking a swig of his drink.
“And it might help with the press too,” Archie says. “Saw the article yesterday. For the record,Idon’t think you should be kicked off the team.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Why are you even reading that stuff? It’s rubbish.”
“Well, they keep saying I’m the best goalie and the most handsome guy on the team, so I’m a little biased.” He winks.
“Exactly,”I grunt, going back to my food. Even though my agent sends them to me every morning, I haven’t opened an article about me or the team in ages. Don’t need to. Don’t care.
Cameron shakes his head. “Goalies are usually the broody, silent type,” he says, his American accent coming out in full force. “What did we do to deserve this?”
Archie shrugs. “That personality was already taken by my big bro. I had to improvise.”
“You lads should have seen him at the academy,” Finn says. “Most annoying bloke there.”
“Annndthat’s when you fell in love with me. Brotherly love, of course. Same with you two.”
I’m about to fire back that he practically imposed himself as my friend when a flowery perfume washes over me. I turn my head to see Millie approaching our table. Oh, heck no. What now?
“Hi,” she says with a little wave and a big smile. “Just passing by the tables to introduce myself, but we’ve already met,” she adds to Finn and Archie, who welcome her warmly.
Archie gestures to us. “Millie, this is Cameron, one of our midfielders, and Callum, a defender.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cameron says, then elbows me.
“Hi,” I say flatly.
“Philip toldme you don’t have a social media account yet,” she says, her blue eyes zeroing in on me. There’s a smudge of black makeup underneath her left eye and some spatters of mud on her skirt. Not exactly living up to “Regents standards,” as Philip would say. He always harasses us about our appearance. “But that’s okay. We can work on that first thing. It’s actually better to start with a fresh account.”
I just grunt in response, and the guys laugh under their breath.
“So, when can we set up a time to get started?” she asks, her eyes brimming with hope and enthusiasm.
“Not sure. I’m busy.”
“Well, maybe we can take a few minutes now?” she asks, smoothing her skirt. “You still have twenty min—”
I stand up at once, squaring my shoulders. I’m only a head taller than her, which surprises me. I thought she was tinier. “I really don’t have time right now,” I say with finality. Then, I pick up my tray, drop it on the trolley, and hurry out of the canteen.
There is no way I’m starting a social media account. I’m here to play football. Nothing else.
Chapter 3
Millie
My first day went pretty well, all things considered. No verbal slip-ups or displays of clumsiness on my part, and most of the guys were kind and welcoming. Except for one—Callum Murray, a guy with a perpetual frown and stronger arms than anyone else on the team. He was a bit rude, honestly, but I won’t let that dampen my otherwise happy mood. I’ll try again tomorrow.
Though I craved a long soak in a tub, something my tiny flat unfortunately doesn’t offer, I settle for a shower, change into something casual and cosy, and head out to meet up with Roxy.
Carefully avoiding a treacherous puddle just outside the door, I step into the dimly lit bar. It’s been styled to resemble a 1920s speakeasy—low golden light, Art Deco mirrors, and smooth jazz humming faintly through hidden speakers—and it’s easily one of my favourite places in London. Cosy and warm with a hint of nostalgia.
I spot Roxy’s blonde head right away, her curls bouncing as she shifts in the circular velvet booth. Quickening my steps, I make my way to her.
“Hey, you,” she beams, stretching her back before pulling me into a hug. “How are you?”
