“I’m trying… Fuck. This is the programme the whole team have pretty much been watching!” It suddenly hit me like a defender’s studs straight in the balls.
Nate nodded slowly. “Most of the country too. How the fuck did you not recognise her?”
I looked up at my teammate and probably best friend. We’d known each other for a few years, both playing for the England youth teams when we were younger. “I really don’t do TV and new shit.”
“You must live under a fucking rock.” He passed me the now filled glass. “You had no idea who she was?”
I drowned in my own stupidity for a moment.
“No idea.”
Nate rubbed his face. “Ryan, did you never even think that someone who looks like her must be an actress, or a model, or a goddamn reality TV star? Normal people do not look like her!” He pointed rather dramatically towards the TV.
I shook my head. “When we first met in Houston…”
“During the hurricane.”
“It wasn’t a hurricane.”
“Hurricane sounds much better than tropical storm. Anyway, carry on. I’m interested to hear exactly how numb your head can be. It’ll make the rest of us normal people feel much better.”
“You can’t say anything about this.” I pointed at him, trying to fix a stern expression to my face. “If you do, I will hack your bank account and transfer everything to a charity for alpacas.” Nate had endured a bad experience with alpacas once when he was on a weekend break at a small town not too far from Manchester.
I took a long inhale. “I won’t say anything. Just let me ask one pervy question.”
I closed my eyes. “I’d rather not.”
“Are her tits real?”
Jesus. “Yes. They’re real.” And now I was thinking about them. “That’s your one question. And when you start hooking up again, I get to ask you something shitty too.”
Nate’s face blanched and I knew I’d probably gone too far. He hadn’t dated anyone since his wife had passed, not even the sniff of a kiss. He just wasn’t ready yet, and I got that.
“Houston. How did you not think she was famous?” He nudged me back into safe territory for him.
I took a swig of the drink and nearly choked on the level of alcohol. “Because she was dressed normally. She wasn’t wearing make-up, and her hair didn’t look done up or anything.” I remembered seeing her at the bar for the first time. “She was really pretty. And funny.”
Nate nodded seriously, like I was a professor giving a lecture he was really interested in.
“How many times have you met her since?” He leaned back against the kitchen units.
“Twice. We bumped into each other when I met my agent in Salford. That was coincidence. We arranged to meet in London when we played Arsenal. I stayed with her at a hotel, then she stayed at my old house. I didn’t find out her real name until then. London.” I had no idea what all of that meant.
Nate squinted at me. There was a pause, a longer one than I would’ve left. “Are you seeing her again?”
“She’s in Manchester next week. We’ll meet at a hotel, probably.”
“Why not here? Does she know who you are?”
It felt like I was being interviewed again.
“Because it isn’t like that. My house didn’t have any of my stuff in, but here’s a bit too personal. And unless she’s found out because she’s watched a football game on TV, she just knows my first name.” Which I knew was all kinds of weird, which would be what Nate was thinking now.
“Are you going to tell her you know who she is?” Nate fixed himself another drink, even though he still had one on the coffee table.
I nodded. “Yes. The whole not knowing thing was part of the excitement.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to end it now you know who she is. Ry, you’re living the dream. Most men would give their left nut to tap that.” Nate topped his glass up with cola. “Don’t let her being famous freak you out.”
