Ian
Idon’t finish the sentence, there’s no need. I think my body is speaking clearly enough because every muscle, nerve, tendon, vein or drop of blood is tensed even more than when I’m on the field.
Being close to her is impossible without jumping on her, touching her, tasting her, having her…
One-time thing, my arse.
I take a sip of my drink to keep my hands busy and my nerves in place, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to answer for myself. The only thing I want right now is to have her.
All of her. For me.
The waiter thankfully comes to my rescue. I order spicy chicken wings with a side of potatoes, then a grilled steak with vegetables and she orders just a Caesar salad. A pang of nerves hits me suddenly.
I try to not let it show, to seem calm and comfortable but inside, I want to smash the room to pieces.
“How’s the training coming along?” she asks innocently. “You still have that busted lip and that cut on your forehead.”
I touch my lip instinctively as she sighs, biting hers.
So, I’m not the only one here having problems.
“Same old shit,” I say, playing it down. “It’s all part of the job.”
“Of course, I know.”
What an arsehole. Obviously she knows.
“I was scared, when you seemed—”
“It was nothing,” I cut her off. “I’m fine, I’m right here in front of you. And…I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiles slightly as the waiter brings us our starters. She dresses her salad and starts playing with it but I can tell she has no intention of eating it.
“Riley?”
She looks up at me.
“I can’t help worrying.”
“You don’t have to. I’m fine.”
“That’s the first lie anyone tells themselves.”
“Okay. I’m not fine, but I’m better than I was. Yeah, better.”
I watch her as she gathers her courage.
“Sometimes I just want to forget. It would be so much easier.”
The anger goes right to my hands. I grip the edge of the table to avoid punching a wall.
“I would be different – maybe I’d even be enough for someone like you.”
It’s all too much. I let go of the table and extend my hand to her. I grab hers and squeeze it hard. Riley looks up quickly.
“Don’t you ever think that, or say it. You’re simply perfect. I don’t give a damn about the past and know that it’s not going to change things.”
“You don’t know that.”
