‘Yeah, he’s uh…’ Whatever he was about to say, he thought better of. ‘It was nice to meet you both.’
His gaze lingered on Rosie for a few seconds before he returned to the car and got in.
After a few attempts to make it up the one flight of stairs, I finally managed to get Rosie in my flat and into my bed. I placed a glass of water on the bedside table, and it was only seconds before snores emanated from her parted lips. I postponed my pyjamas and the need for comfort and immediately went to my laptop lying on the sofa.
‘Okay, who are you, Oliver Blake?’
It typed his name into the search bar. Immediately the screen was filled with pictures of the man I’d accidentally bumped into twice now. Some shots were professional, highlighting his cheekbones and athletic figure. Others were of him mid-score. His whole body leaned into a kick, powerful muscles on display. I couldn’t help but be drawn to the look on his face. The concentration, the determination.
Then, I clicked on another article. This one had a photo from several different angles. Attached was the headline.
FOOTBALLER ASSAULTS COACH:
Directly underneath, I began to read.
“Oliver Blake (33) is seen throwing punch after punch at his manager just outside his London home in a brutal assault. Oliver’s girlfriend can be seen trying to hold him back. Cole Moore (the team’s manager) was put into hospital by Oliver’s sudden attackbut has since made a full recovery. Accusations of drugs have been made against the footballer over the past couple of weeks. Suspicions have risen since Blake’s latest drug test came back inconclusive. He’s actively denied these claims. However, his ex-girlfriend has since come forward and shed some light on the horrific situation.
Ashley (28), a model, was emotional as she recounted what it’s been like living with Oliver these last few months.
‘I mean, you think you know someone, right? Then, right before your eyes, they become this entirely different person. Ollie was never like this before, well, you know. He was sweet, kind, and everything you could ask for. I’ve tried to get him help, but he would get angry. I’m honestly scared of what he’ll do if someone doesn’t step in. Poor Cole didn’t deserve that. No one deserves to be subject to that kind of violence. It was brutal. That’s not the man I fell in love with.’
Oliver has since been suspended from the club and faces an internal investigation. His team have declined to comment.”
I finished reading, sinking back into the couch cushions.
‘Well,fuck.’ I exclaimed into the empty room.
8
FALLON
‘Did you get any sleep last night?’
I had made a nest of blankets and pillows on the sofa and was burrowed so deep that it took considerable effort to strain my neck to look up from my laptop at Rosie, who shuffled out of my bedroom to the kitchen, yawning.
For most of the night, the rabbit hole that was Oliver Blake’s career and social media history had sucked me in. Since the scandal was so recent, the buzz around it was fresh. Articles were published almost daily with any tasty morsel of information they could get. Even if it was his breakfast order from a café, someone had seen him at. It was almost laughable how intensely people were scrounging for information about the elusive man. Countless paparazzi shots were of him flipping them off, wearing his signature baseball cap low over his eyes.
My dusty pink hair was scraped into a messy bun, and I wore a bright yellow dressing gown wrapped tightly around my body. Cans of Red Bull were dotted around me—the substance that kept me alive.
Black smudges decorated Rosie’s eyes, and last night’s hair which had been perfectly curled, stood up like she’d put her fingers in a plug socket.
I went back to my laptop. ‘I got a few hours. You snore like a buffalo, so it was a little difficult.’
‘How do you know buffaloes snore?’ Rosie frowned, pulling a mug from the cabinet and pressing a button on my temperamental coffee machine. Hot air hissed out of the spout like it was scolding Rosie for daring to ask it to perform its only function. Barely batting an eyelid, Rosie slapped the top of it hard and slid her mug underneath. Sensing an authority figure that wouldn’t put up with its shit, the machine settled and started spouting coffee into her waiting mug.
‘I picked a large mammal and went with it. Would you prefer I say you snore like an elephant?’
Rosie yawned again, leaning her forearms on the counter, waiting for her coffee. ‘How about a lion? They’re cute.’
I rolled my eyes tenderly. ‘Either way, you’re a horrific bedmate. I feel sorry for the guys you bring home.’
‘They’re usually too blissed out from experiencing my phenomenal vagina to care about how loudly I snore.’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘Okay, more than I needed to know.’ I clicked the mousepad a few times, a frown forming as I read the job listing description.
Rosie grabbed her coffee, forgoing adding milk like the heathen she was and padded over to invade my nest. She lifted the end of one of the blankets and sank onto the couch near my feet, bringing the coffee to her lips and letting out a contented sigh.
‘What are you looking at?’
