Striker. Michelle Betham

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СКАЧАТЬ to fit into this beloved club of theirs. He could hear it all the second they’d stepped out of the dressing room, the decibel level rising with each step of the short walk to the tunnel. He had a lot to prove, and he knew the pitfalls that would be waiting for him if he managed to stuff up his debut appearance.

      He could feel his heart racing, his stomach turning in a mixture of excited and nervous somersaults, the noise of the crowd reaching a crescendo as both teams finally approached the tunnel, standing still for a few seconds side-by-side, hands behind their backs as they took in the sheer wall of sound that seemed to reverberate around the stadium outside.

      Ryan smiled as a couple of his new teammates patted him on the shoulder and wished him good luck, whilst a player on the opposing team whom he’d never got along with threw him an altogether different expression that conveyed the hope that he’d break a leg or smash a shin bone. Ryan ignored him. Nothing like that was going to get to him today. Today he was focused, totally on his game, ready to prove that he was going to deliver everything he’d promised.

      He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, opening them quickly as more music blared out from the stadium tannoy system signalling the players’ cue to run out and get this match underway. And as Ryan jogged out of the tunnel, out onto a perfect pitch, the roar of the crowd was almost deafening. But it was exactly that which gave him the will to play this game to the best of his ability. It was that feeling only a stadium-full of football fans could give a player like him – a feeling of absolute determination not to let them down. He’d do it for them, and show them he was worth every single penny of those multi-million pounds this club had forked out for him. Ryan Fisher was home.

      ‘There’s no doubt about it, the guy can play football,’ Ronnie said, leaning against the small corner bar in the Players’ Lounge as the post-match crowd started to drift in. Everybody from journalists and sports reporters to pundits, players’ wives, friends and girlfriends would congregate in the Players’ Lounge to dissect the match, catch up with people they hadn’t seen in a while or, in the case of some of those aforementioned wives and girlfriends, bitch about somebody’s ill-advised choice of shoes, hairdo, or personalised number plate on their brand new, salmon-pink Range Rover.

      ‘Are you expecting somebody?’ Ronnie asked, taking a much-looked-forward-to sip of cold beer. He’d just spent the best part of two hours stuck in a commentary box and he was parched. The cups of tea he’d been given during the game just weren’t going to cut it anymore.

      ‘Hmm? Sorry?’ Amber said, turning to face him. ‘Did you say something?’

      ‘You keep looking at that door as if you’re expecting somebody to come through it.’

      ‘No I don’t.’ Amber frowned, her voice a touch more defensive than she’d wanted it to be.

      ‘Yeah. You do,’ Ronnie went on, taking another sip of beer. ‘So, when did you sleep with him, then?’

      Amber almost choked on her lager. ‘Jesus Christ, Ronnie! How the hell do you know I’ve slept with Ryan Fisher?’

      ‘I didn’t,’ Ronnie said, leaning back against the bar again. ‘But you’ve just admitted it now.’

      ‘Shit! I hate you, do you know that?’ She took a long drink of lager. ‘Thursday night, if you must know.’

      ‘And you haven’t spoken to him since?’

      ‘Only when I grabbed a few words with him seconds after the match for News North East. Professional capacity only. In front of the camera wasn’t really the right time to discuss our sex life.’

      ‘So, you’ve got one, then?’

      ‘Got what?’ Amber asked, still somewhat distracted.

      ‘A sex life. Me on Wednesday night, Ryan Fisher on Thursday…’

      ‘You’re making me sound like some kind of slapper. It wasn’t like that.’

      ‘Well,’ Ronnie sighed. ‘I don’t want to say I told you so, kiddo…’

      ‘Then don’t. Because it was me who sent him packing, if you must know.’

      Ronnie looked at her, frowning slightly. ‘Huh?’

      ‘He came to see me at work, I invited him round to my place, he looked hot – he looked really hot, actually – we had sex, then I told him to go. Simple as that.’

      ‘Why?’ Ronnie asked, wanting to ask so many questions but thinking better of it. She didn’t look as though she was in the mood for the Spanish Inquisition.

      Amber looked over towards the door again, not caring that she was making it obvious now. ‘I got scared. I let my guard down, and I let it down in front of Ryan fucking Fisher, of all people.’ She took another drink of lager and slammed her glass down on the bar, putting her head in her hands. ‘Jesus, Ronnie. What have I done? I slept with one of the most notoriously arrogant, self-centred footballers there’s ever been, he’s probably told God knows how many people, and now my “no footballers” rule is tarnished forever.’

      ‘Wasn’t it tarnished the second you slept with me?’

      ‘You don’t count, Ronnie.’

      ‘Gee, thanks, Amber,’ Ronnie replied, a touch sarcastically.

      ‘You know what I mean,’ Amber sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. If the truth be told, she hadn’t really wanted to come to the match today, but she’d had to work, and she was nothing if not professional. Any personal feelings towards Ryan Fisher that she may be experiencing right now had to be pushed aside. She was just having a bit of trouble managing that.

      ‘Look, Amber, sweetheart. This ridiculous “no footballers” rule that you gave yourself was pointless anyway.’

      ‘Was it?’ Amber asked, looking up at him sharply. ‘How’s that, then?’

      ‘Because you’re around them all the time. The law of averages says you’re probably going to end up becoming involved with one at some point in your life.’

      ‘Well, thank you, Gypsy Rose Ronnie.’

      Ronnie pulled a face and Amber poked her tongue out at him, her head turning to check out the door once more in a reaction that was almost reflex-driven by some kind of sixth sense, because just as she turned her head, he walked in. Tall, tanned, handsome and hot. Ryan Fisher. And practically every female in the room stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He had that kind of aura about him. But his eyes had locked straight onto hers, staring at her, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. A mouth that had been covering her breasts and sending her to heaven only a couple of nights ago. And just the thought of that made her shiver, made her want to turn away and try and forget what she was feeling, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do it.

      ‘I’d better go grab a few words with him,’ Amber swallowed, keeping her eyes on Ryan in case he disappeared into a crowd that was quite obviously very pleased to see him. Despite it being called the Players’ Lounge, it wasn’t all that often that any players actually came in there, so when they did they always attracted attention. And Ryan Fisher was hot property today. Hotter than usual, if that was actually possible. ‘On a professional level, of course.’

      ‘Of course,’ Ronnie said, arching an eyebrow before СКАЧАТЬ