I was throwing my luggage into one of the vehicles when I heard the unmistakable tone of Rowan Reeves’ voice. Try as I might to block it out, his words still entered my consciousness, and I knew I'd look rude if I didn't respond.
“Sorry, I missed that.” I turned round and gave him my most beaming smile, hoping to convey the idea that I was absolutely delighted to see him.
Rowan's smile was equally false. “Just wanted to see how you were this morning, Sparkles. Wanted to check that you were ready for the rest of our little competition.”
There was no competition, not between us anyway. Gav was going to end up winning, unless Tony's team beat him in the final game. There was no chance of either me or Rowan finishing with the lowest points, so neither of us would be buying the other dinner.
Thank God.
And Sparkles? What in the hell was going on with that?
“Absolutely! It's been a really good few days coaching the kids, so I think we're all winners.” I decided not to react to the name he had called me.
He leaned against the coach, folding his arms in a way that made his biceps bulge even more. He looked like he hadn't shaved today, a five o'clock shadow grazing his cheeks, I think even more than what was there usually. A shiver went up my spine, but I put it down to the light breeze that was always lurking around Manchester’s summers.
“How about we make these last few games a little more interesting?” He didn't even try to make his smile look genuine. “And we have our own little gamble?”
“What like? The winner gets to choose not to speak to the loser for the next decade. I'd say that would make us both winners.”
He laughed, acting like I just said the most wonderful thing. “How about the winner has to choose a forfeit for the loser to do?”
“Let me think about it.” I folded my own arms like he'd done. The competitive streak in me desperately wanted to say yes. The person who didn't want any drama needed to say no.
“Just think about what you could get me to do if you won.” His words sounded seductive. Enticing. “Or are you too scared of losing?”
I felt my spine stiffen, my jaw clench. “We’re adults, Rowan. We don't bet on children's games.”
His laugh was mocking. “You're just scared you're going to lose. Don't worry, I won't do anything to humiliate you in public.”
“I can't promise the same thing.” I started to walk away, cross with myself that I'd just agreed to this stupid bet.
His laugh was soft. “I guess you're not that perfect after all.”
For the next two hours I didn't think about Rowan, and I definitely didn't think about my sister. The beauty of coaching kids was that you lost yourself in their moments; their wins gave you the biggest highs, and if there was a loss, you were consumed with boosting their confidence and getting ready to try again. If professional football hadn't been an option, I would have become a PE teacher because this was definitely my happy place.
My team had their strengths. Defensively, there were a couple of kids with talent. One girl who played up front had now been picked up to join one of the academy’s teams, but our midfield struggled. Rowan's tactic of passing the ball in triangles or quads had worked well, and I wished I'd been brave enough to try something like that with my group. But we still won as many games as we lost, the kids had fun, and when they did concede a goal our last game, it wasn't the end of their worlds, as it shouldn't be.
The final game ended thirty minutes before we needed to get on the coaches to head up to Scotland – just enough time to grab a quick shower and spend ten minutes congratulating the kids for how hard they worked. This afternoon they would have an awards ceremony, followed by a party with a barbecue. Because most of the club's first teams were on site, the final couple of matches had some guests of honour too, which meant for those ten minutes most of my team were starstruck.
Gav’s team had easily won the competition, Gav showing off almost embarrassingly. There was no bottom of the mini league for the kids; they all knew how many points they got, most of them keeping track over the last day or so, but this summer programme wasn't about shaming any children if they lost.
I had time to give each of my squad a little goodie bag I’d had prepped by some of the commercial crew from the club shop, and then I headed to the showers.
I wasn't the only one. Whistling piped from behind me, the familiar tone to it informing me of exactly who it was.
I stopped suddenly, the whistling changing for a suddenly saidfuck, and Rowan Reeves almost walked into my back.
“Why do women do that?”
I didn't turn around, I just started walking instead, unable to wipe the smug grin from my face.
“Did you do that on purpose, Dee?”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely not as angelic as she pretends to be.”
I turned round and gave Rowan the most angelic smile I could muster before heading into the women's changing rooms, knowing that I would have pissed him off with not giving him the response he was expecting.
