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That cracks me up again. “I was actually going for ‘bed,’ but—”
“My, my,” she fights out between strains of laughter. “Here I thought you were the perfect gentleman.”
I fake a grimace. “Are you disappointed?”
She licks her bottom lip, her ocean-hued eyes sinking me like a ship. “Not even a bit.”
21
Lights On
Wade
This is it, the most important game of my life. Winning this could change the trajectory of my career. I already know Madrid is thinking of signing me for next season. Winning this game—even better, scoring—will probably seal the deal.
Taking a deep breath, I run my hands over my thighs and adjust my socks over my shin pads. I try to focus, but memories of last night take over my mind. Roxy in her blue-and-white dress, looking more stunning than ever. Her eyes widening when I told her where we were eating. The intoxicating scent of her neck when I kissed her atop the Eiffel Tower. But then, it shifts, and I see her face, filled with hurt, when she learns I’m considering moving to Madrid and I never told her. And then me, heartbroken, as I leave behind the only girl I’ve ever loved to play a game.
I shake the thoughts from my mind. This is not just a game, Wade. Stay focused.
This, right here, is the reason why I always steered clear of relationships. The life of a footballer and his partner isn’t all glitz and glam. It’s rife with sacrifices that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Certainly not on Roxy, who’s settled in London and doesn’t even care about the glitz and the glam.
“Hey, Hunt.” Hans sits next to me. “Ready to kick some arse?”
“Yeah.” I flash him a smile and bump his fist. “We got this. Just do your job, and I’ll do mine.”
After a last-minute pep talk from Alistair, the time arrives to get on the pitch. This is the first time I’ve played in the Stade de France, and I have to admit, it’s pretty spectacular. The stadium is packed, and the spectators in the higher seats are so tiny, I can barely see them. The stands are just a huge mass of colours. Somewhere in that huge crowd are Piper and the kids—and Roxy, who is probably as anxious as I am.
We sing our team anthems along with our supporters, then take our positions on the pitch.
We concede the first goal only ten minutes in, and it’s hard not to let the loss get to our heads. Swallowing the first goal is never good for morale, but we simply glance at each other, nodding. We just need to stay calm and play our parts. We know what to do.
Fortunately, it pays off. We dominate the next thirty minutes. Blinded by the confidence of their first goal, our opponents make a few mistakes that transform into opportunities for us. This mental edge grants us the upper hand once again.
There’s only two minutes left before half time. It’s the last stretch of action, also known as the most dangerous moment to concede a goal, and the best time to score one.
As one of Madrid’s midfielders accelerates towards Hans’ cage, Andrea recovers the ball and switches plays. He wheels around, running it toward the Spanish goal. I’m on his right, unguarded. I call out to him, and he passes me the ball. I control it and bolt straight into the nearest cluster of defenders. I perform a stepover, winning the duel. A few more paces, and I kick the ball with my left leg, straight into the upper right-hand corner of the goal.
The referee blows his whistle, and euphoria erupts in my chest as the stadium roars. A massive wave of gold, red, and blue ripples through the stands as the fans jump to their feet. I jog to the corner of the pitch and brandish my fist at the supporters. My teammates swarm around me, jumping, yelling. Someone is on my back, messing with my hair.
This is why I play football. For those rare moments of ecstasy when I’m in perfect harmony with my team, both those on the pitch and the ones cheering for us. This is pure joy. Nothing can beat this feeling.
The referee calls us back into play, then immediately whistles the end of the first period. As I retreat to the locker room, I glance up to see Piper, the boys, and Roxy all standing, huge smiles lighting up their faces. I wave at them and lock eyes with Roxy. Holding my index finger in the air, I mouth, “I told you.”
As she shakes her head, her grin widens, and she bites her bottom lip. The pride that’s brimming in her eyes makes my heart feel like it just went bungee jumping.
I rescind my earlier statement. This is pure joy.
Roxy
When the referee blows his whistle to indicate the start of the second period, a swirl of anxiety and excitement war inside me. The stadium may be outdoors, but I could swear we’re in a furnace. Between the warm summer night air and the combined body heat of eighty thousand spectators, I’m sweating buckets. I remove my cap and bring my thick, curly hair into a high bun to let my neck breathe.
My heart clenches when I spot Wade’s perfect face on the stadium’s big screen. I’m hoping his prognosis was correct, because I wouldn’t be able to handle his disappointment if they lose.
The second half is messy. Both teams are so eager to score, a lot of foul play creeps in, leading to a couple of yellow cards and some free kicks. Neither goalkeeper is willing to let their team down; they’re both making beautiful saves.
But finally, the game shifts. When Real Madrid is about to score, Baptiste Beaumont, one of the Regents’ defenders, snatches the ball and barrels toward the other half of the field. The Regents are running fast, their opponents taken by surprise. Andrea gets hold of the ball. He passes it to Marco, who tries to get it to Wade. But he’s blocked. He serves Tobias instead, who manages to find Wade. We all hold our collective breath as Wade accelerates, dribbling to the goal. He’s almost there. The Spanish defender covering Wade is struggling to catch up, giving Wade a clear shot. Finally, Wade reaches the goal, and he sends the ball into the bottom of the Spanish net.
Hollers and cheers flood the stadium—our stand especially. Piper and Uma hug me in turn, and we jump in place. Wade celebrates his goal with the supporters, and as he gets back into position, he casts me another look. He makes the peace sign, symbolising his second goal, and then forms a heart with his hands.
