7. Keir
Staring out at the Ibizan sunset for the last time, I look back at my phone, unable to draw my eyes away from Emma Thornton for very long. Not even the glorious pink and orange sky has a patch on her. She is gorgeous—that hair, those eyes, that sprinkle of freckles.
Fuck. It’s going to be difficult to concentrate on the game when she is watching our every move. Everyone on the team knows she left to live in London years ago and hasn’t been back to Inverness since, breaking my fucking heart in the process. Four years older than me, we went to the same high school. I was not even on her radar, but she was the bubbly, popular, cute girl, and I fell hard for her. Then, she fucked off before I even had much of a chance to turn into a man good enough for her. Even though her dad would’ve kicked my arse, that wasn’t going to stop me. No one knows about my crush, and I’m not fucking telling anyone, not even Lach. We’re best mates, but some things are best left unsaid, especially when they’re curvy, stunning redheads that you want to nail so fucking hard she will break in half.
Just my bloody luck, she’d come back now. I’d done a decent job of keeping my head straight, but Emma is the kind of distraction that could make a monk give up and go on a bender. Clearly, Lach has noticed her as well. It pisses me off that she followed him and not me. I hesitate with my thumb hovering over the Follow button on Instagram, and then with my eyes closed, I stab at the screen and hopefully hit the button. There’s no going back now.
“You wanna grab a last drink?” Lachlan asks, sitting next to me, also doom scrolling through this phone. I wonder if he’s also staring at Emma.
“Nah, flight’s early. I don’t trust myself,” I joke, even though there is no force on earth or beyond that would stop me from getting on that flight. Even though word on the team grapevine is that Emma isn’t even coming to Scotland for another month, I want to be back there, just in case. She had no interest in her dad’s team back then, so I’m going to assume nothing has changed. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am. There are no ice hockey pics in her feed and Colin is already being vocal about her lack of knowledge and experience. I want to be there to help her because if she fails, she will leave, and I can’t allow her to walk out of my life a second time.
But I have to get her there first, and being on a drunken lad’s jaunt with Lach is not the image I want to present to her. Lifting the phone, I turn around and capture a photo of me, smiling and sober, with the sunset in the background, captioning it: Last night. Back home tomorrow.
I mean, what could it hurt? If she even follows me back.
It’s probably futile, but who knows? Maybe she’ll remember the skinny kid from school who used to be too shy to even say a word to her. Instagram could work miracles, right?
My phone buzzes with a notification, and for a moment, my heart leaps into my throat. Emma Thornton follows you back.
Fuck.
I stare at the phone, shell-shocked. I have absolutely no idea what to do next. Taking a deep breath and trying to calm myself, I feel like a teenager. I’m not the same awkward kid anymore. I’m the enforcer for the team, I don’t mind a punch-up if the need arises. I’ve got confidence now, and I do okay with women. Sure, Lach gets most of the groupies but he’s Captain. It’s going to happen. I’m not backwards in coming forward anymore, except Emma seems to have turned me back into that awkward idiot who gazed at her across the field and watched her from afar during her days on the netball team.
Lachlan glances over at me. “You alright, mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Uh, yeah,” I stammer, tucking my phone back into my pocket. “Just, uh, Emma Thornton followed me on Instagram.”
Lachlan’s eyebrows shoot up. “No shit? That’s interesting. Is she spying on all of us now?” He looks a bit concerned.
“I followed her first. I went to school with her,” I blurt out.
Lach frowns. “Thought she was older.”
“She is. I mean, we were at the same high school together for a couple of years.”
“Oh. Translated: she has zero clue you existed.”
With a wry smile, I reply, “Pretty much.”
He chuckles. “Well, she does now.”
“I doubt she knows who I am outside of the Warriors.” My heart pounds, though. What if she does?What if all along she harboured a crush on me the same as I did on her?
Fat chance.
Lachlan gives me a playful nudge. “Well, mate, you’ve got a month to make yourself unforgettable before she even gets here. Why don’t you start by posting some of those gym selfies you love so much?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Aye, like she’s going to be impressed by my biceps. And who says I want her to be impressed, anyway?”
“Hey, never underestimate the power of a good flex,” Lachlan smirks. “And I’m not blind. You’re doe eyed.”
“Fuck off,” I growl.
“Hey, I don’t blame you. She’s hot.”
I can’t disagree with that. She is even more gorgeous now than she was back then. Pulling my phone back out, I go through her pics. She seems loved up with some douche named Carrick Glenn. I mean, come the fuck on. Is he even for real? But I can’t shake off the fluttering feeling in my stomach. Emma Louise Thornton is back in my orbit, and this time, I’m not going to let her slip away without noticing me first.