I reached over and tucked several strands of hair hanging in her face behind her ear. At my touch, her head lifted. My hand hovered there for a moment.
My eyes darted all over her face. ‘It’s okay to eat when you’re hungry.’ It was an obvious thing to say because everyone needed food to survive, but I had a feeling that right now, she needed to hear it. Our eyes connected. Her face was round and beautiful. Her eyes nearly arrested me—they shone with unshed tears.
I cupped her face and rubbed circles on her cheek with my thumb.
In a low voice, I said, ‘And if you don’t get something, I’m going to order one of everything off the menu anyway.’
Our faces only inches apart; I felt her soft breath fan over my face. Her eyes cast down, but she didn’t pull away from my touch as she asked, ‘Why do you care if I eat?’
I hesitated, ‘Why don’t you want to eat?’
Her gaze snapped to mine once more. ‘People always assume that I eat just fine because of how I look. Like my weight automatically puts me in a position of lesser value to someone smaller. It might sound weird, but… sometimes I don’t feel I have therightto be hungry.’
My hand flexed on her cheek. I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying all the placatory bullshit I knew she didn’t want to hear from me.
It’s easy to tell someone that how they feel is silly or stupid. If you can’t relate to it, itmustnot be real.
‘You’re allowed to feel however you’re feeling.’ My voice strained. ‘It’s not wrong or right; it’s just how you feel.’
My words stunned her because her mouth parted, and she inhaled softly. My eyes dipped down to her lips, and I watched as her tongue darted out to wet them.
A car behind us honked, snapping us out of the moment. I pulled my hand back and ran it across the back of my neck. Shifting back in my seat, I did my best to hide my growing hard-on.
Cocking my head, I saw her press the palm of her hand to her cheeks as she took a deep breath.
‘What’ll it be, Pooh?’ My nickname for her dispersed some of the lingering tension. She huffed out a laugh.
‘A white mocha with caramel drizzle. And maybe a ham and cheese toastie.’
I grinned at her. ‘Coming up.’
I edged the car forward with a sense of victory.
‘What are we doing here?’I asked around the final mouthful of a subpar toastie. We’d pulled up outside a huge stadium. The car park was empty, and the large glass front doors off to the side did not look open.
Fallon took a sip of her coffee as she checked something on her phone, seemingly unconcerned.
This was the big place she was taking me? A stadium ground? I’d played here countless times before. Our club had won several matches on this pitch. I still remember the feeling of every win, every loss, every moment of chest-thumping, back-slapping glory and pain. They intertwined like ivy on an old house. You can’t have the highs without the lows. This sport and many others are built on the people who show up weekly. The fans that wear your colours and shout your name. They are the ones behind you for every goal and every miss. It’s a heavy burden when you can feel the weight of hundreds of thousands of people’s expectations bearing down on your shoulders.
And yet, I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. There aresome things you can’t live without. Some things that are the driving force of your soul. Football is my heartbeat. It’s in my blood; it’s how I breathe.
What are you left with when your reason for being gets taken away?
I tapped the steering wheel repeatedly as I waited for Fallon to announce that we’d come to the wrong place or at least show me what had her so focused on her phone.
Movement coming from the edge of the stadium caught my eye.
A shadowy figure pushed open a gate and headed towards us. Fallon peaked up from her phone towards the person, and the colour drained from her cheeks.
‘Who is that?’
It took her a moment to respond. A myriad of emotions crossed her face before she finally forced a smile to her cheeks.
‘It’s my brother, Evan. He’s helping me out. He has a client who is a shareholder in this stadium. He represented him in a lawsuit once and called in a favour.’
My brows furrowed. ‘Okay… but why the fuck are we here in the first place?’
Her anxious stare peeled away from her brother—who stood, hands in his pockets, a few feet away—back to mine.
