“You still have a tournament to win,” she says, suddenly shy.
She doesn’t want to risk anything, even though I’ve already laid all my cards out on the table.
I lift myself up again and sit down.
“And what if I don’t win that tournament, Jordan? What happens, then?”
It’s a question that’s been haunting me for days. I never thought I’d have the courage to ask it – but I’m putting myself on the line, risking everything. I’m telling her everything that comes into my head, without thinking of the consequences.
My phone buzzes, saving her from having to respond. Deep down, I’m not sure I wanted to hear her answer.
I grab it and glance at the screen. “It’s Skylar. They’re finished, and waiting for me to take them home.”
“You should go.”
I nod, and disappointedly pull myself to my feet.
“The first match is tomorrow,” she says. “You need to be ready.”
“I will be.” I look at her. “I already am.”
Her eyes lose their sparkle, just a little.
“I’m not the problem, Jordan. We both know that.”
She lowers her gaze, avoiding a response. I take a deep breath and gather up my stuff, before bending down to kiss her on the head.
“Goodnight, Jordan.”
She doesn’t meet my eye as I leave her apartment, and I don’t look back at her as I’m walking out. Some agreements should never be signed – I should know that by now. It was one of those signatures which led me to the person I am today: the man that Jordan doesn’t want.
Jordan
I’ve managed to drag Anya to the first match of the tournament, which is being held in the city’s official GAA club, the Four Masters. It’s wet and humid this morning, and the field will definitely be slippery. I really hope the weather brightens up for the second half of the match.
The seats are almost completely taken – there are parents, teachers, supporters, and locals who are just plain curious. I never thought an event like this would generate so much interest.
“Are you nervous?” Anya asks, giving me a gentle shove.
“A little.”
“Are you scared of losing?”
Losing, definitely. I’m just not sure yet ofwhat.
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t you go to the training sessions? Didn’t you say the coach was doing a good job?”
I nod, avoiding her gaze. Anya still doesn’t know that I accepted his invitation last night, and she definitely doesn’t know about what happened afterwards, in my apartment. I haven’t had time yet to catch her up, and I don’t intend to do it now. Not with Niall sitting only two rows away, on the bench.
“You have to trust him. All those years playing must have been good for something, right? I mean, his face is hanging in the window of Intersport for a reason.”
“I think so,” I say, vaguely, hoping that the match will start soon, and I can avoid any more conversation.
“Good morning, ladies.” Tyler lifts his cap in greeting and settles himself down next to me.
“Hayes,” Anya says, coldly. “No cats stuck in trees to save this morning?”
