Chapter 7 #3
The crowd was absolutely deafening. It was an incredible save.
And watching Tanner rush the goal and pick Booker up to celebrate such a miraculous stop was even more incredible.
Booker’s reaction was far less animated than Tanner’s.
His control still evident, his body still tense from the near miss.
But he was happy. I could see his beaming smile easily from my seat, and it was a beautiful Harris moment to witness on the pitch.
After the game, I’m on a high like I’ve never been. Maybe it was the trick save. Maybe it was the fact that it was a home match and we won. Or maybe it was the fact that Poppy was in the stands.
Watching her up there with my family felt so right, like the stars had aligned and she was exactly where she belonged. My best friend, cheering from the front row.
When I started playing football in my teens, I never let Poppy come to any of my matches.
I was always on the sidelines, never playing.
The first choice keeper was older, more experienced, and at least twice my size.
It was depressing because my brothers walked on the pitch and owned it from day one.
That’s the shit thing about the keeper position.
You’re competing for one, single, solitary position.
If you’re not the best, you’re as good as nothing to the team.
So football and Poppy were always kept separate.
It was easier that way at the time. But having her here today felt like an immense relief.
Like she was extending a peace offering.
Like she was saying, “Look, I know we buggered up on night one, but that doesn’t change anything.
We’re still mates and I’m not going anywhere. ”
Whatever it was, I can’t get up into the stands to see her fast enough. The endorphins coursing through my veins are at an ultimate high, making me feel like I could run ten miles.
I manage to sneak up beside her as she’s chatting with Vi, and she jumps nearly a foot in the air when she lays eyes on me.
“Booker!” Vi yells, pulling my focus off of Poppy. She wraps me in a hug. “Fucking aces game, my love. That last save. It was amazing! I can’t wait to watch it on the highlights I recorded at home. Seriously, career best save by far.”
I smile sheepishly as everyone else gives me a pat on the back, but the one I’m most curious for a reaction from remains silent. When their attention turns to something Rocky does, I step toward Poppy and nudge her with my elbow.
“Hello.” My voice is quiet as I lean over her, inhaling her scent—a vast improvement from the sweat and dirt wafting off of me.
“Hello,” she replies, looking up at me as she frowns with a puzzled expression.
I smirk as I continue to tower over her. “How’d you like the game?”
Her eyes fixate on my mouth as I lick my lips. As if in some sort of daze, she twitches slightly and swallows. “Good seats.” Her cheeks flame red.
This amuses me and I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. Of all the things she could have said after never having seen me play, she comments on the seats. It makes me want to tackle her to the ground and tickle her until she admits how bloody good I am.
I quirk my brow. “That’s all you have to comment on?”
“Oh yeah, good game or whatever.” She flicks her wrist in the air like today is any old Saturday and she didn’t just witness my career best save.
This makes me snicker. She can be stubborn as a mule sometimes.
Determined, I straighten my posture, looming over her even more now and trying to silently intimidate her into admission.
I want to hear her fucking say it. I want to hear her say I’m great.
I’m not usually a cocky sod. My ego isn’t one that needs constant attention.
But fuck me, after a game like tonight, I can’t help but want praise from my best friend.
I pierce her with a challenging look. “Did you really just say whatever?”
Her tongue swipes across her glossy lips as I move in even closer. She starts twitching and murmurs so low I can barely hear her, “Are you seriously trying to keeper me right now?”
“Am I what?” I ask, not sure I heard her correctly.
Before she gets a chance to reply, Tanner’s boots clack up behind Belle. He cops a feel and she squeals, turning and whacking him on the chest. The two kiss for a bit longer than is appropriate, but no one seems to mind.
Then, all of the sudden, Poppy gets a tap on her shoulder.
“Jaysus Christ, Sugar Pop. I thought that was you!” An Irish voice bellows from behind us.
Poppy and I both turn to look at the man who is addressing my friend so casually. He wraps his inked arms around her trim waist and pulls her into a hug, lifting her off the ground before kissing the top of her head.
“Oh my God, Nigel! What are you doing here?” Poppy exclaims, her face the picture of shock.
“I’m just over with a few of the lads to catch a match,” he answers, his Irish lilt thick and heavy. “One last hurray before we join the working stiffs and earning a proper wage.” He chuckles and strokes his long beard.
I already don’t like him. He’s a hipster personified with his ten-inch beard and curls on the ends of his mustache. It’s too much. He’s trying too hard. It looks like he tried to rough up his appearance with copious amounts of ink and piercings. None of it looks authentic.
“I can hardly believe it,” he scoffs, shaking his head. His eyes rake down Poppy’s body in a familiar way that raises my hackles. “What are the odds of running into each other at a footy game of all places? What brings you here?”
I brush up against Poppy, indicating in no uncertain terms that I want to be introduced. If this guy is after her, he needs to know I’ve got her back.
Poppy clears her throat and looks up at me nervously. “This is my friend, Booker Harris.”
“The goalie!” Nigel’s eyes fly wide. “Wow, I didn’t know you knew him. Hey, pal, brilliant save out there with that penalty kick. Feck me, that’s highlight-worthy shite right there.”
He reaches out to shake my hand. Maybe he’s not all bad, but my brows are still furrowed as I reply, “Thanks. How do you two—”
“Sugar Pop and I met at Uni.” Nigel tosses his arm jovially around her shoulders, pulling her into him and away from me. “We were having the craic at this party we were both at, and I couldn’t take me eyes off her.”
My jaw tightens as I watch how he holds her.
It’s a familiar embrace, like he’s touched her before.
I look him up and down, and my eyes lock on his lip piercing.
Then it dawns on me. I look at Poppy, who’s still a ball of nerves.
I glance down at her breast and then back to her eyes. It’s confirmed.
This wanker pierced Poppy.
“Do yous have time to grab a pint, Pop?” Nigel asks with a smirk. “I’d love to catch up.”
She smiles and squirms under his arm. “You know, Nigel, I’m really busy. I have a job here in London and my schedule is full I’m afraid.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Nigel whines. “Well, I’m here until Tuesday. You have my number, so give me a ring if your schedule lightens up.”
“Sure, sure,” she replies. “Either way, it was great running into you.” She gives him a quick hug and all but pushes him away as he strides over to rejoin his friends.
That was fucking interesting.
Poppy seems to be avoiding eye contact with me as she says her goodbyes to my family and excuses herself.
As I watch her leave, I can’t help but wonder more about what Poppy got up to in Germany.