21
Rihaan
THE GAME ENDED IN a draw.
Nobody had exactly celebrated it, but nobody had mourned it either.
After the tension of the last few weeks, I had welcomed the strange middle ground of it.
No victory parade. No disappointment hanging over the dressing room.
Just the quiet relief of knowing we had an upper hand on them, plus with a few days before the final series and, for once, nothing immediate to fix.
The team had travelled from Hamilton to Auckland the following afternoon, the bus taking just over an hour as we crossed through the traffic. Most of the squad had gone straight to the hotel or disappeared in groups the moment we arrived.
I had done neither.
Auckland was different from Hamilton.
Bigger. Louder. More anonymous.
That was what I'd wanted.
Three days where nobody needed me to be the cricketer with the injured shoulder, the player whose career had suddenly become a talking point, or the son of a man whose name had become synonymous with the parts of my life I'd spent years refusing to touch.
Especially when I’d spent most of the morning thinking about the fact that Maeve had smiled at me twice during the post-match presentation, and I was beginning to suspect I had a problem.
The bus journey blurred into a mixture of music, sleep, bad jokes and people arguing over what to watch.
I spent most of it with my headphones on.
Not because I wanted to be alone. Because every time I looked across the aisle and saw Maeve reading, talking to Raina, or laughing quietly at something on her phone, I found myself watching her.
It was becoming embarrassing, and Oliver had given me enough amused looks to confirm the same thing.
I tried to sleep.
I failed.
Tried to go on social media, only to find myself knee deep in fan edits and comments asking who was in the room when I’d streamed the other day.
If I wasn’t going to let in my teammates, or even Oliver and my sister in on who it was, I sure as hell wasn’t about to announce to the world.
Even then, I was pretty sure between the two of us, I had been the only way who felt that strong about the spark I felt each time she was around. Which meant, while I would’ve considered the possibility of it, Maeve had her set of rules. One that I couldn’t get past. So a secret she remained.
Still, I couldn’t help but notice how ever since we’d made our deal, and stopped holding things against each other…
there was tension that had lifted from Maeve.
She was more involved with the squad, her friendship with my sister was clearly growing, and even I could see that she was enjoying it—being part of the team.
But during the whole week, I couldn’t help but wonder, if she was as affected by what we had shared as I was.
And I was sure, if I didn’t find a way to make them stop, they would swallow me whole.
I wanted music.
Something loud enough to drown things out.
The concert venue was already glowing when I arrived, the entire place pulsing with people and light. The supporting act was due on in less than ten minutes, and the celebrity tent had begun filling with the usual collection of faces I recognised from television, sport and social media.
I had a drink in one hand, my jacket hanging open, my cap hanging low, and absolutely no intention of spending the night thinking, or being recognised.
Walking with my head low, I made my way to the tent when my shoulder knocked against someone else’s.
“Sorry.” I glanced up, only to meet the one person I was least expecting to find.
Maeve.
For one suspended second, neither of us moved.
The crowd noise around us seemed to thin.
Not disappear.
Just soften enough that I could hear my own heartbeat.
She blinked. “Rihaan?”
I laughed once. “Hi, Trouble.”
She looked around, a panicked look on her face. Almost as though she was checking if I was with someone, before her eyes darted to check whether someone had placed us in the same room deliberately.
“What are the chances?”
I looked past her towards the packed venue. “Apparently very high.”
She smiled.
And there it was.
That smile had become one of my problems.
Not because it was particularly dramatic.
Because it changed her entire face.
She looked softer when she smiled like that. More free, somehow. Less guarded.
“You like Corbyn Lynch?” she asked.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Could’ve been here just to pass the time. Or the drinks.”
I winked. “That too.”
She laughed.
Fuck. I was in so much trouble.
The supporting artist hadn’t even come on yet, but the place was already loud enough that we had to lean closer to hear each other.
I caught the faint scent of her perfume.
Something clean.
Something warm.
I immediately hated the way my brain registered it.
“Are you here alone?” I asked.
“Yeah. You?”
I gave her a nod. “Which section are you in?”
Biting on her lower lip, she waited a beat. “Section C. I got them from a resale a few days ago, and it was the best they had—that didn’t cost an arm and a leg.”
“What do you think about joining me in the VIP tent?”
Maeve blinked. “Are you serious?”
I grinned. “My agent got me three spots in the tent. But, Raina wasn’t feeling well, so she couldn’t come, which meant Oliver ditched me too.”
Perching a hand on her hip, she narrowed her eyes. “Are you offering me leftovers?”
I raised a brow. “Well, yeah. Even if I had known the fact that you like Corbyn Lynch, I wouldn’t have invited you.”
She frowned then, almost like she’d taken my words to heart. “Why not?”
I shrugged. “You’re the one who said you don’t date Cricketers.”
Maeve’s jaw dropped slowly, and I could tell that she hadn’t expected them at all. “Who are you, and what have you done to Rihaan Patel?”
Taking a step closer, I leaned down. “Oh, Trouble. You have no idea what you’re missing out on.”
“Clearly.” She shook her head as a grin took over her lips.
“So, what’s the verdict?”
“I’ll join you. But, only if you show me what a date with you looks like.”
Tilting my head, I let my gaze run over her body. She was wearing a fitted shirt, with a pair of high waist jeans, and a pair of boots. Her hair was in her signature half up-do, and that damn bow she loved wearing so much.
I knew I had dangled the date like a bait when I mentioned it to her. I had hoped that she’d bite me back on it. But the drink in her hand had been easy enough to spot, which meant I had to ask. “How many drinks have you had?”
“This is the only one I bought here, thank you very much.”
“Alright. Did the pregame involve a tequila shot?”
She grinned, then and I could feel the pinch that shot straight through my heart. “If you already know, why are you asking?”
Shaking my head once, the glow in her eyes brighter than it had been in the last few days pulled me towards her. Nearing her ear, I finally whispered. “I’m just making sure that when I kiss you at the end of this date, you’re sober enough to remember it.”
Maeve sucked in a breath, which only stuttered as I wrapped a single arm around her waist and turned her with ease.
“C’mon, Trouble. Let’s feed the curious cat inside you.”
When she moved her hand up, letting it settle on mine as I guided her towards the tent, I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t enough to sway her.
That this would be something for her to just enjoy, and feed the curiosity inside her.
But I knew with each growing moment, it would feed an entirely different fire inside of me.
The one that constantly told me to do whatever it did to keep her, after losing her once already.
The supporting act finally came on, and the energy around us shifted almost immediately.
People pressed closer to the stage, the space between bodies disappearing as the first beat rolled through the venue. Maeve laughed in disbelief as we made our way into the tent, her hands slipped away as I let her go completely.
I felt the absence of her proximity almost immediately.
We stayed in the VIP tent, but even there the music didn’t feel distant.
It still pulsed through the floor, through the railings, through the bodies of people who were supposed to be above the crowd but somehow weren’t above the feeling of it.
Every time the singer changed tempo, she seemed to forget where she was supposed to stand, swaying closer, singing louder, throwing her head back whenever a song she knew came on.
I found myself watching her more than the stage.
She looked different like this.
Uncontained.
There was no tablet under her arm, no careful expression, no professional distance to maintain as she analysed each move.
She sang along to the words she knew, sometimes loudly enough that I could barely hear the artist, and every time I caught her looking at me, she’d grin as though she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.
When the lights came back up, she turned to me, skin flushed and eyes hazed. “You did not know a single song by them.”
“They’re the supporting act,” I pointed out the obvious.
“Oh, is that so?” She raised a brow. “Does that mean you know each word of every song when it comes to Corbyn Lynch?”
“Would you like a little wager on that question?”
“What does the winner get?”
“If you win, I’ll take you backstage to meet Corbyn.”
Her eyes widened. “You know him?”
“Not, know him, but I’ve met him a few times before. I’ve been a fan of his since his first EP came out, and I’ve attended almost every tour of his.”
“Oh,” Her shoulders dropped. “Then no wager.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I’m guessing your short term memory loss doesn’t include songs.”
An unexpected laugh burst out of me. “You’ll be guessing right. I also don’t have short term memory loss.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” She leaned closer. “Didn’t you forget our first kiss.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t worth repeating—or mentioning.”
She nodded. “And I stand by that.”
“And yet, you wanted this experience.”
“What can I say? I like research. Doesn’t mean you’re getting a kiss by the end of this night.”
“We’ll see,” I simply replied. “I am willing to even go as far and say that you’d be the one initiating it.”
This time, Maeve wasn’t phased by the proximity. She instead leaned closer, until her breath felt hot on my ear. “Dream on.”
I grinned as she turned around, pausing as she spotted one of the A-list celebrity who’d just entered the tent. She smacked my arm, almost like she was starstruck. “Is that Daisy Phillips?”
“I think so.”
“Oh my god.”
“You’re a fan?”
She gave me a long look. “Only an uncultured person wouldn’t be a fan of her work. I’ve literally seen every single movie she’s acted in and produced.”
“You want me to introduce you to her?” I offered.
She jumped, like that information had startled her. “You know her?”
“If you keep asking that, I actually might follow through on that offer. You do realise that we’re in the VIP tent.”
“I seriously hate you. I’m surprised there’s enough room in this ten with your ego taking up so much space.”
“Sure you do,” I replied, as she rolled her eyes lightly. Before she could utter another word, Daisy turned in our direction and waved. I was sure if Maeve wasn’t already leaning against me, she might’ve passed out.