“Oh, please. You’re old. And you have…other stuff to think about.” Evan glances at me.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“Coincidence…”
“Oh, fuck off…”
“Okay, boys,” Casey intervenes. “Enough chitchat. Show us that you’ve still got it.”
“Still?” Ryan shoots back. “Look, I’m—”
“Yeah, Ryan, we all know,” Chris says, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the centre of the pitch.
“You ready to lose?” Casey asks, stepping in front of me.
“And areyouready for the night of your life, with yours truly?”
“I see you’ve found your confidence again…” she says, swanning past me.
I grab her arm and spin her around. “The only thing I’m confident about is that, before tomorrow evening, you’ll be in my bed.”
She flashes me a challenging smile. “Let’s just see how good you are, first,” she says, tauntingly, before joining the others in the middle of the field.
Three O’Connors against five ‘Outsiders’ – this should be a piece of piss. But, apparently, age holds you back – especially for me – because I can’t seem to catch a pass, or run fast enough. Although, we’re up against three women, Martin and Evan. Sure, Evan’s young and he’s strong, but the others? Come on.
“Feeling the pressure, O’Connor?” Casey plants herself in front of me, ready for the next round.
“What about you? Are you ready to feel the pressure of something else?”
My question throws her slightly – just long enough for me to receive Ian’s pass. I jump ahead, ready to run to the try line, but someone launches themselves at my back, wrapping their arms around my neck and their legs around my waist. I lose my balance, but before I can fall flat onto my face, I turn myself around, falling onto my back instead. It really fucking hurts – but when I open my eyes and see her hair in my face, I forget the pain. I forget the huge idiot I’ve just made of myself; I forget the fact that my brothers are standing there, taking the piss a few metres away.
None of that fucking matters.
Casey is lying on top of me: and, damn it, she looks really good there. I guess she was right – she reallyisbest on top.
“Good job, O’Connor. You got tackled by a girl.”
I laugh, because I couldn’t give a fuck that she tackled me.
“Maybe I did it on purpose.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Maybe I wanted to see what you looked like on top of me.”
She smiles cheekily, before lifting herself up – but I grab her waist, forcing her to fall back on top of me again. Our eyes are locked in conversation, in a language that neither me or Casey even understand; but it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that they’re connected – that they know how to communicate things that we aren’t capable of saying to each other.
I rise onto my elbows just enough to press my mouth against hers. In the middle of the pitch. Splayed out on my back. With her straddling me. In front of my family.
I don’t waste any time: my tongue is in her mouth, taking back everything that rightfully belonged to me. Her sweet taste merges with the saltiness of sweat; my hands are tangled in her damp hair, pulling her against my body, mixing our scents into one. Casey bites down on my lip – and there’s no gentleness about it. She’s almost ripping it from my face, as if it was one of those juicy steaks she loves so much. Jesus Christ, she’s eating at me as if I was her favourite food.
Go on, Casey. Do whatever you want with me. I’ll just lie here on the grass.
“Can we finish this match now?”
There he is. My useless brother, interrupting one of the most exciting moments of my life.
Casey pulls away from me, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes that spreads across her whole face. She gets up easily, while I lie there helplessly on the floor, unable to move – something huge and embarrassing between my legs is weighing me down.
