The weight from the additional muscle mass had slowed me down a bit, but it hadn’t affected my performance. I’d been able to protect the ball better from defenders, and my size had made them think twice about trying to knock me off it. I’d also incorporated some of the training one hundred and two hundred metre sprinters used, knowing that I could still be broad shouldered and built and run at speed.
It paid off, and it was a strategy that would hopefully give me longer in the game as I wasn’t a one trick speed pony.
I didn’t know how long Neva had been standing there before I noticed her. Yesterday had been an away game for both the men’s and women’s teams, so the training ground was quiet. No one would be around today until this afternoon at least, when only anyone who’d pick up an injury would be in for treatment.
“Hey.” I picked up my towel and wiped my face, aware I was dripping in sweat because this had been a tough session. “You okay?”
She nodded and smiled. “I figured I’d find you here. Kitty said you’d called in for a smoothie before.”
“You should’ve just texted me. I’d have met you somewhere. This place smells like decaying jockstraps and no one apart from the youth team should have to put up with it.” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “You want to go somewhere for lunch?”
“I’m not sure I’m hungry after that mention of decaying jockstraps.” She was laughing. “But yes. It’s a yes, by the way.”
I didn’t need to ask her about what. I knew exactly what she was referring to. My heart started to beat faster than any cardio worked.
“Good.” Any more than one word and I’d fuck it up. We’d stick with that.
“Shall I meet you somewhere after you’ve showered?” She was hovering near the open door, which figured, as it didn’t smell the best in here.
“I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.” I picked up my crap from next to the bike. “Something’s not right in here. It shouldn’t smell this bad.” I sniffed a few times, frowning. “Does it smell fishy to you?”
“Really, Jude? I don’t want to – is it that bag there? Near the bin?” She pointed to a bin near the smith machine, something that didn’t get used very often.
I headed over, the smell getting worse. The bag was red and black, a cheap faux leather thing that probably belonged to one of the under-eighteen’s team.
I held my breath and peered in it. What was probably a sweaty kit was in there, as well as – “Fish.” I announced it but didn’t put my hand in the bag to pull it out. “At least they were making healthy decisions.” I zipped the bag up and held it at arm’s length and out of the door.
“Oh god, that’s vile.” Neva scooted along the corridor. “I’ll meet you outside the canteen.”
“See you there, baby mama.” I shot her the goofiest grin I had in my armoury.
She shook her head. “Those words should never be said again.”
I just laughed, knowing I’d be using them a lot, just to hear her arguments back.
I felt as if I’d just won the semi-final of the Champions League cup: full of pride and excitement and a fuck-ton of nerves. Part of my brain was cheering that there was a possibility I’d get to fuck Neva again; another part of it was shouting that this was a terrible idea and I didn’t cope well with the rejection the first time, so why would this be any different? Another part was purchasing that car seat.
I needed to hold it all together and not let myself get overwhelmed with all of the thoughts.
The shower was a good place to do that. The water, especially when it was either on the hot or the cold side, the stimulation good at grounding me to one thing, even if it was momentary. The sensation of the water on my skin helped too, which explained why as a kid I’d always liked playing out in the rain or being wet. I’d been a really good swimmer, partly because I was happy to continually be in the pool if I wasn’t playing football.
I focused on the feel of the water, letting it calm me down. While I dried off, I made a list in my head which started withlisten to Neva. I’d said my bit and laid it out there. It was up to her now to set out the fine print. Even if it meant jizzing into a cup it was fine. All I had to do was eat and listen to her, and respond when she asked me a question.
My dad called me when I was getting dry. I hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of days – he and my mum had been in London watching a couple of shows in the West End which was my mum’s passion. If there was someone’s thoughts I wanted, it was my parents. Now wasn’t the time to have that conversation though. Neva was waiting.
She was reading something on her e-reader when I saw her. I knew that it could be anything from a newspaper to a magazine to a steamy romance book that Jerrica wrote. Neva liked reading.
I hadn’t been much of a reader when I was younger. I struggled to sit still for long enough. I was the same in school, sitting at a desk was really hard, my brain would wander, and I found I didn’t pay attention to the teacher. I needed to move often and that wasn’t always allowed. At fourteen, I’d felt stupid and a failure because I was always in trouble for being restless, and some of the teachers found me frustrating because I did better than I should in tests. At fifteen I was spending more time training for football, so the club had tutors in place for the subjects I was taking exams in and that was better. There was more freedom to talk about a topic while doing keepy-upsies and the information stayed in that way. I ended up doing okay, well enough to have gotten into sixth form to do a level three sports qualification if I’d wanted to. I hadn’t wanted to.
“Ready to go?”
She jumped when I spoke, engrossed in whatever it was that she was reading.
“Have you got rid of that bag?” She frowned. “It really was putrid.”
I grinned. “Yep. Left it in the youth team locker room. I think it’s Dean Beaver’s – the kid with the unfortunate name.” He’d had a lot of ribbing for that. “Not that I looked for any name tags in there.”
Neva crinkled her nose. “Why’s he left his bag?”
