“Have you seen this?” Erin waved her itinerary for Albion’s pre-season tour at Alex as they ate breakfast in the Park Lane canteen. “How much bullshit can they cram into two weeks?”
“Some of us are excited to go to New York, you know.”
Erin crunched a piece of melon before answering. “I would be if we were going to have any time to see it.”
“There’s plenty of time to see it.” Alex smoothed a copy of their own itinerary on the table between them. “We’ve got an open-topped bus tour and the Empire State Building on Sunday. An ice hockey game and a Broadway show.”
Ignoring the differences between their schedules—namely, the lack of any actual training or game time on Erin’s—Erin shook her head. “All of those are as a group.”
Alex chuckled. “Oh, Erin. You ever think maybe you should’ve gone into a different sport? Athletics, maybe? You’re a fast runner.”
“That would have been a waste of my footballing potential.”
“Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to suck it up and remember that we play a team sport.”
Erin grumbled and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t see why that means we have to do everything together.”
“We have a whole”—Alex squinted at the piece of paper—“two afternoons off. I don’t know what your problem is.”
“My problem is I hate forced team bonding. It’s bad enough that we already have to do it once a month.” Be it group dinners, games nights, quizzes, bowling, or escape rooms, on the last Wednesday of the month, Shanice arranged an activity for them all to do together. “Now we’re practically spending two full weeks together.”
“We already spend all day, every day together.” Alex shrugged. “What’s the difference?”
“Speak for yourself. I spend all my time with Gregor.”
Though she supposed it could be worse. Of all the physios, Gregor was the most tolerable. He pushed her without being condescending and didn’t try to sugarcoat how difficult her recovery would be. He’d steered a lot of players through the same injury through the years.
The fact that he wasn’t one for idle small talk helped, too.
“You should be happy to be with some familiar faces!”
Erin levelled Alex with her best unimpressed look.
Like always, it made them smile. “Besides, it’s not really for us. It’s to help the newbies get fully integrated.”
Yes. The newbies. Along with Lia, they’d signed a new midfielder and a young goalkeeper. Erin grasped for their names. She was sure the midfielder was called Kennedy. Or was it Kiara? Kara?
Maybe she did need some enforced team bonding.
“Speaking of”—Alex shifted uneasily in their seat—“have you spoken much to any of them?”
Erin read between the lines. “You mean have I spoken to Lia?”
Lia Ashcroft, who seemed determined to corner Erin every chance she got. Erin was running out of escape routes—once she’d ducked into a cleaner’s cupboard to avoid her. Childish? Yes, but Erin still hadn’t processed Lia’s arrival. She didn’t want to speak to her. What would the woman possibly have to say? Sorry for stealing your place? Worse—she might rub it in. Gloat.
And Erin didn’t entirely trust herself not to let out the bitterness she felt whenever she saw Lia across a room. Despite Ayla’s assurances that they would both have a place in the team, Erin wasn’t sold.
She didn’t want to risk their paths crossing until she had a better hold on her anger because taking it out on Lia wasn’t fair. Plus, Erin didn’t want to get in trouble with Ayla or Shanice for not playing nice. They’d probably organise enforced team bonding just for her and Lia, and Erin would rather gnaw off her own arm than be forced to endure that.
“No.” Erin pushed the last piece of melon around her bowl. “I haven’t talked to her.”
“Don’t you think you should?”
“Probably.”
“But you’re not going to.” It wasn’t a question. Alex shook their head. “You know you don’t have to be such an arsehole all the time, right? All she’s done is sign a contract. Like you did when you came here.”
“I wasn’t replacing anyone.”
