‘Do me a favour, Amy? Don’t ever work out with anyone else on this team.’
‘I promise. And unlike you, Ollie Quinn, I keep my promises.’ I shoot him a wink, wondering if he even remembers the promise he made me that night in the players’ lounge.
‘Ahh… I see you didn’t forget. Tell me, have you ever had more excitement at Carton House than this?’ His face falls for a fraction of a second, giving me a tiny glimpse of a vulnerability I wouldn’t have expected in him.
‘Honestly, no. Nor am I ever likely to again.’
‘Well, let’s not get carried away, now. I’ll be here again tomorrow night, if you can still walk.’
I don’t tell him I’ll crawl here if I have to.
ChapterFourteen
OLLIE
Coach is relentless with his orders on the pitch this morning. The pressure is on with the final match this Sunday. After a thirty-minute-a-side game against the under twenty-one team, plus fifteen laps of the field, he still makes us do fifty groiners. It’s my least favourite exercise, precisely because it irritates my niggling groin.
Coach blows the whistle, then yells, ‘Quinn, get to the physio now. You’ll be lucky if you make the weekend the way you’re falling all over the place with that injury. Get it seen to, or you’ll be on the bench.’
It’s not that bad, but I don’t want to be a liability to my team, regardless of how many subs on the bench would happily fill my spot.
There’s no sign of Stuart again this week. Aiden loiters next to Amy in front of the changing rooms, the two of them apparently engrossed in conversation. Her chestnut curls shimmer in the weak rays of spring sunshine; tanned shoulders are exposed where her zip-up hoody has slipped to the side. She’s swapped the tracksuit bottoms for green shorts that hug her full backside in a way that should be illegal.
‘Aiden.’ I approach the safer option of the two, but Amy steps forward.
‘I’ll deal with it. Is it the same pain as yesterday?’
‘You could say that.’ For Aiden’s benefit, I attempt to keep a straight face.
I follow her into the treatment room, the air between us charged with illicit potential. My mind falls to the gutter imagining exactly what I’d love to do to her on that treatment bed.
‘How bad is it?’ Is her first question.
‘Just a mild discomfort. Coach is overreacting. That particular exercise does nothing for me.’
‘Hmm. I think we both know which exercises do it for you at this stage.’ She pats the leather bed and I hop up.
‘About that…’ we both say again.
‘I need to stay away from you,’ she tells me, doing precisely the opposite as she leans over me, her breasts brushing over my bent knees, her fingers kneading my thigh upwards towards my groin.
‘I was going to suggest it might be our secret.’ My voice somehow manages to sound flippant, even though I feel anything but. Hitting on my friend’s sister is not something I do lightly, but not hitting on her is consuming me. Clearing my throat, I voice the idea that’s been consuming me since we parted ways last night. ‘Perhaps we could give it a go, keep it casual and see where it takes us.’
There’s something undeniably powerful between us, but I don’t want to terrify her. She has a lot to lose, even more than me. So even though what I want is far from casual, I figure it might be the only way to get her to agree. She’s young and probably not an old soul like me.
She continues to knead my thigh, before pushing my knee upwards and opening my leg outwards in a stretch.
‘You know secrets never remain a secret for long. Besides, I think I’m looking for something different than what you’re offering.’ She bites her lower lip and I wonder if she’s imagining herself with a respectable doctor, instead of a brute of a player that’s shagged half of Dublin in the last few months. If I could take it back, undo it, I would.
I nod my head in swift acceptance. ‘I understand.’ It’s the second time we’ve had this conversation in twenty-four hours. She’s told me twice it isn’t going to happen between us. I need to accept it.
She motions for me to turn over while she stretches my hamstrings and glutes before moving to work on my shoulders.
The silence between us is heavy, loaded with what might have been, what could potentially be, if it wasn’t so apparent we want different things. The first night she met me she said she was bored in this city, in need of excitement. The last thing she’d want is to get saddled with me. It was me that forced the word connection on her. Me that’s still pursuing her. I really should quit while I’m ahead.
She pats my leg to signal I’m done. ‘Do not work out tonight. Give yourself a rest,’ she warns.
‘Give me a rest or you?’ I can’t help push it.
