Redemption (9 page)

We swung by the changing rooms first because they were empty at the moment, much to Maisie’s disappointment. My teammates were all tall and muscular like me, and I had no intention of inadvertently creating any competition for myself by letting Michelle walk in on them half-naked. 

We did come across a few players hanging out in the halls, so I introduced them to Maisie and encouraged her to get a few signatures. 

“You can sign right here,” she said, pointing to her left breast. “And you can sign here,” she said to the other player, pointing to her right breast this time.

“Uh, how old are you?” my teammate Nigel asked. He was six foot four and weighed over one hundred kilos, but right now he looked terrified by a fourteen-year-old girl. That tended to be the appropriate reaction where Maisie was concerned. 

“Probably best to just sign her sleeves,” I said, as Maisie rolled her eyes at me. Now I knew how Michelle felt. Maisie had a way of making you feel like the bad guy all the time for spoiling her fun.

“Thanks lads,” I said when they’d finished signing her shirt. 

Just before we walked away, two young boys about Maisie’s age ran up to Nigel, one of them holding a rugby ball, and asked him to sign it.

“You want a signature from Olly as well?” Nigel asked. Nigel looked a little surprised to see that he had been asked for the signature first because most people gravitated towards me. 

For good or bad, I was one of the most famous rugby players in the country, even though I hadn’t played for England since the World Cup Final in 2007. Anyone who liked rugby had an opinion on me, and that meant I was a popular choice to sign merchandise.

“God no,” the kid said, and grabbed the ball from Nigel’s hand. “He might drop it.” The two kids ran off, laughing at how funny they were. 

“Little shits,” Nigel said.

“I can’t believe they said that,” Maisie exclaimed. 

“Don’t worry, it happens,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t care.” 

I really didn’t. I had done for a couple of years, but not any more. If the worst thing that stuck with me from that day was “dropping” the ball, then I was fortunate. If they knew the truth, well, that would be far worse.

I took Maisie and Michelle upstairs to an executive suite that I had claimed for the day, and introduced them to the waiter who would be looking after them while I played. 

“He’ll get you whatever you want to eat or drink,” I said. “Just name it.” 

“The view is incredible,” Maisie said, as she stared through the glass towards the pitch. 

“Yes,” I replied, looking at Michelle from behind. “It is. You can go sit in the stands as well if you want.” 

Maisie found the door and took a seat out in the ground. The executive suites were awesome, but you couldn’t beat the atmosphere of being out amongst the crowd where you could feel the tension through your body as the game ebbed and flowed. 

“Are you okay?” Michelle asked me, once Maisie was outside. “About what happened back there with those boys.”

“Of course,” I said, with a big, forced smile. “It happens all the time. Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not fair,” she said. “Anyone could have… you know…”

“Dropped the ball and completely shanked the kick that could have won my country the World Cup?”

“Yeah. It’s just one of those things.”

“Thank you for saying that.” 

Michelle smiled at me; for one beautiful moment our eyes met and then she looked away again, back at Maisie. Michelle insisted she didn’t blame me for what happened to Maisie, but she should. It was my fault. Not because I didn’t walk them home that evening. I was guilty of far more than just not being a gentleman.

Michelle took hold of her rugby shirt and tugged it a few times to let some air underneath. The suite was a bit warm and she had a long sleeve shirt on with her normal top underneath.

“You should have bought the short sleeve shirt,” I said. “It’s too hot for the long sleeve one. Why don’t you take it off?”

Michelle looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “Is that how you usually get women out of their clothes?’

“Usually they’re peeling their clothes off long before I get the chance to open my mouth.”

“Well, I think I’ll just break with tradition and keep it on.”

“Suit yourself.” Probably for the best. The image of Michelle peeling off a layer of clothing might be too much for me right now.

Maisie came back in from outside and asked the waiter for a beer. The waiter looked straight to me with a questioning glance, and I then turned to Michelle. 

Michelle sighed. “You can have one beer and that’s it.” 

I laughed when I saw the look of pleasant surprise on Maisie’s face. She hadn’t been expecting to get away with that one.

“And I’ll have a glass of white wine please,” Michelle added as the waiter was on his way out.

“I’d better go and show my face before the coach wonders where I am.”

“Olly?” Maisie asked before I left. “I never got your signature.”

“That’s sweet, Maisie, but you don’t need to try and make me feel better.”

“I want it,” she said. She handed me the pen she’d kept from before and asked me to sign on her back by the upper right shoulder. “You get one too, Michelle. That shirt will be worth a fortune once he’s signed it.”

“Oliver needs to get a move on,” Michelle said.

“Nonsense,” I replied. I resisted the temptation to ask if Michelle wanted me to sign on a breast and went to write my name on her shoulder in the same place I’d done it for Maisie. I rested my hand on her back and felt the heat from her body. She was burning up under that shirt, but was too stubborn to take it off. 

I could smell a hint of citrus in her hair, and desperately wanted to run my fingers through it. As the pen touched her shoulder, I noticed a slight, almost imperceptible, shiver run up her spine. Was that a reaction to my touch? I’d wanted to get a reaction from her, but a cold shiver wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for.

I finished signing Michelle’s shirt and handed the pen back to Maisie. “Have fun ladies.”

One thing I’d never lacked on the pitch was motivation. Ever since my return to the game after the 2007 final, I’d needed to prove myself to everyone: my teammates, the fans, and myself. Now I had an added incentive. 

Two people who meant the world to me would be sitting in the crowd. No matter what happened, today I would be giving it everything I had.

Watching Oliver play rugby was even more terrifying than watching Maisie play. None of the girls Maisie played against came close to the size of the forwards charging down Oliver at every opportunity. 

The pace of the game stayed fast and intense throughout the entire eighty minutes, so Oliver never held on to the ball for longer than two seconds at a time. He would receive a pass and then either pass it sideways to a teammate or kick it down the field. Either way, he got charged down by someone who weighed well over two hundred pounds. 

Tackles were a constant occurrence, but to me at least, the ones involving Oliver tended to have a little more crunch. Every time he hit the floor, there were a few nerve-wracking seconds where I didn’t think he would get up again. He always did, but that didn’t stop me being just as scared the next time he went down.

This sport was utterly brutal. I knew that on paper it was safer than football. Maisie had explained to me hundreds of times that the helmets they wore in football actually made the game more dangerous because it encouraged head-to-head collisions which were strictly prohibited in rugby. That made some kind of sense, but I still wished Oliver were down there in some sort of padding instead of being completely exposed. 

Mind you, having Oliver’s legs on show offered some advantages. My god, those legs had an unnatural and unhealthy impact on me. Just looking at his thighs made my own legs weak, not to mention what happened between them if I lost myself to a daydream. Oliver’s team valued his legs for how they kicked the ball, but they had a completely different kind of value to me.

The dirtier his legs got as the game wore on, the more I wished I were in the changing room after the game to help clean them up. I crossed my own legs in my seat to try and control my lust, but it did little good. My short skirt left me feeling exposed, and that just fueled the desire inside.

I should have worn pants, but it was a hot day, and a short skirt would help keep me cool without needing to take my top off. That was the plan anyway, but then Oliver had insisted I wear a rugby jersey so now I was sweltering under two layers. 

I’d deflected Oliver’s suggestion that I take my top off by pretending that he was trying to undress me, but he’d noticed how odd my comment was. At some point he’d also notice that I always wore something to cover my arm, but I planned to keep making excuses as long as possible. 

I didn’t want him to see the burn on my arm. He didn’t know about that. No one knew about it other than Maisie, Mom, and a few close friends, and I intended on keeping it that way.

With a few minutes to go, Oliver attempted a long drop goal but it missed just past the post. It didn’t make any difference to the game, and he’d already put twelve points on the board, but I heard a fan nearby mutter “typical” under his breath.

I glanced over at Maisie who had heard it too. She looked pissed. Not much made Maisie angry, but she didn’t like hearing Oliver insulted. He’d shrugged off the insult from the boys earlier, but that had to have hurt. Maisie had helped by asking for his autograph, but to have that one mistake from eight years ago still following him around was unfair.

People still blamed him for one mistake he’d made at the age of eighteen when the expectations of an entire country were on his shoulders. I was doing the same thing. I was just as bad as those boys earlier and the one sat in front of me now.

Oliver had changed since he acted like a jerk to me, just like he’d changed on the pitch since he missed that crucial drop goal. I couldn’t keep him at arm’s length just on the off chance he might be nasty to me again. 

It dawned on me; I was scared. Scared he would treat me badly again. Scared he wouldn’t want me when he saw me naked. Scared I would still want him after the summer was over and we went home. 

I glanced over at Maisie again and saw a girl who was never scared. She wasn’t scared when she was on the field. She wasn’t scared to meet people even though she was regularly bullied because of the burn marks on her face. If my younger sister could handle what was thrown at her then I sure as hell could too.

“Will you be okay on your own tonight?” I asked Maisie.

“Sure, why?”

“I was thinking of grabbing drinks with Oliver tonight. We should probably catch up. If he wants to that is.”

Maisie smiled. “I’m sure he’ll want to.”

“You can come too,” I offered, although it was probably obvious I didn’t want her to. “We’ll do dinner instead of drinks if you like.”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll hang out with him another evening. It’s about time you let your hair down.”

“What will you do?”

“Well… I suppose if Olly is out with you, then Shaun will be bored. Maybe I’ll hang out with him.”

“I suppose I walked into that one,” I admitted. “We’ll have to see what Oliver says. And Shaun may not want to; he seems like quite a shy kid.”

“I’m sure I can bring him out of his shell.”

“I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear that and carry on watching the game.”

“Good idea.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing at Maisie’s confidence and sheer joy for life. I could do with taking a leaf out of her book. Maybe tonight I would let my hair down and have fun for once? I was due a good night out and I had a feeling Oliver was more than capable of showing me a good time.