Chapter 11 The scarf hold
The scarf hold
Paddy
Idiot. Total. Fucking. Idiot.
Evie’s competition begins in fifteen minutes, and for the past hour, I’ve been thinking about Morgan, wondering where she is. She said she would be here for Evie. She seemed happy to take Fi’s place.
That was before you tried to kiss her.
Actually, it was after, but the fact still remains that is what I did. I almost kissed Morgan.
Why? Why did I think that was okay? Perhaps I’m more messed up than I care to let on, because there is no way that it was the right thing to do. Clearly, I overstepped a line as her friend’s older brother.
I hustle out from my seat.
“Where are you going?” Mum whispers, her words erupting from her, body vibrating.
“Just need to make a call.” I step past Pops and the woman sitting to his left.
“Don’t miss the start. This is a big deal for Evie. She looks up and doesn’t see you in the crowd, it will crush her.”
“Not as much as not having her dad there will.” Mum’s sigh triggers my apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll be two minutes, that’s all.”
I leave everyone sitting on the bleachers and step outside the sports centre in town. I should be used to the hustle and bustle of city life, but with every passing car and roar of an engine, the more I’m missing the serenity of Stoney Grange.
Or maybe it’s because you know that’s where Morgan is.
I wish my inner voice would jog the fuck on and stop torturing me.
Glancing down at my watch, she should be here. I pull out my phone and check the message I sent her this morning.
I can pick you up at 3:00
Morgan: It’s okay. I can make my own way there
You sure? I don’t mind.
Morgan: I’m sure, Paddy. I’ll get a lift
Okay. Competition starts at 4pm. I’ll see you later
I gave Morgan the correct time, she just never replied. Did I make things awkward by trying to kiss her?
Do you really need me to answer that?
“Oh, get fucked,” I mutter to my inner critic.
“Paddy?”
I spin on my heels. “Morgan? You came?” I blurt out like some love-struck teen.
“I said I would, didn’t I?” she semi-laughs.
Despite the tightness in my throat caused by my embarrassment, I manage to ask, “How did you get here?” with a shake of my head. I need to get a grip.
“My brother dropped me here.”
Her brother? “I thought you two didn’t see each other anymore. He’s back?”
Morgan steps closer, and I can tell by the small, puffy bags underneath her eyes that she’s tired. “Yeah. He’s back.” She looks away with a turned down expression.
I knew her brother. Guy was a complete twat when we were at school. Always thought he was funny by picking on the younger kids on the football team. I never understood the kick he got from ridiculing them how he did.
“Hey, look at me.”
Morgan does as I say immediately. Her response feels like validation. That what I say matters.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” She plasters a fake smile on her sweet face.
“What did we say to Evie about lying?”
Her bravado falls quicker than a lead balloon. “I’m not lying.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m not.” Her raised voice has an onlooker stopping before going inside.
“Okay,” I call her bluff, feeling her tense when I place my hand on her back and begin directing her inside. “I’ll let this go—”
“Thanks—”
“For now,” I interject quickly. “But we need to talk about this later.”
Morgan stops. “Why? Why do we need to talk about this, Paddy O’Keefe?”
I blink; eyes widening when I see her cheeks redden. “Because I care about you, Morgan. And I don’t like seeing you so upset all the time.”
“I’m not upset all the time,” she fires back quickly.
I scoff. “Could have fooled me.”
Her saddened expression catches me off guard. Shit.
Just as I go to say something, she turns and heads inside. “Come on. Evie’s about to start.”
Mum was right. When Evie saw me, her eyes grew bigger, and she smiled brightly. My heart filled with pride when she waved before heading to her starting position. The venue’s practically bursting by the time we’ve watched Evie make it to the final round of the competition.
She’s now giving us all a thumbs up before starting her final fight.
She faces her opponent; some kid much bigger than her.
He’s got a round face with scruffy blond hair.
Up until this point, the mixed matches have been fairly evenly paired.
But this bruiser of a kid looks like he’s sizing Evie up for his next meal. I don’t like it.
A gentle hand taps my arm. “Why is he staring at her like that?”
I look down at Morgan, seeing her concern the same as mine. We haven’t really spoken since being in here. “I don’t know.”
The referee walks and stands, facing the audience.
“You think I should go and stop the fight?” I ask in all seriousness, my anxiety growing by the second.
My fists tighten, but Morgan squeezes her grip on my arm, leaning closer to me. “No,” she bellows over the noise of the crowd, as both kids are announced over the loudspeaker, and each get a round of applause.
I try to relax back in my spot.
Letting go of me, Morgan reaches into her bag. “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” she reassures me, passing the bag of sweets she bought.
I take it and look down our row, checking my folks before it starts.
Pops has his arms crossed, his back ramrod straight.
Mum’s biting her fingernails, which is unlike her.
Collectively, we’re all hoping Evie beats this kid like she did all the others in her previous fights, but the odds don’t look in her favour.
The referee asks both kids to tap hands in the middle.
Evie steps closer to the Peter Griffin looking child, holding up her balled fists.
And what does that little fucker go and do? He hits his down with so much force; everyone sees her wince and try to shake it off as she returns to her starting position.
“Hey!” Both me and Pops are on our feet. “He can’t do that,” I protest, getting a few odd looks from everyone around me. Evie doesn’t look my way, but I see pork chops smirking at her. “Kick his arse, kid.”
“Paddy, sit down.” Morgan ushers me, tugging my hand.
I catch my mother glaring at me before I start to move. If I wasn’t so worried for Evie’s safety, I would probably be over-analysing the way Morgan gently strokes her thumb over my skin. “Alright.” I give my mother and old man a nod and sit back down.
“Yeah, that’s right. Take a seat, sweetheart.”
I crane my neck in the direction of the voice mocking me.
Some bald-headed chap, similar features to the kid Evie’s about to take on, smirks at me before giving me a wink.
I glance over my shoulder before looking back at him. “He your kid?”
The guy laughs, all three of his chins rolling. “Nah,” he says, deliberately faking his sarcasm. He gestures to the lady next to him like I’m some sort of idiot.
“What happened to your other kid? You eat him?”
He fumbles, eyes in a death stare on me. “You got a problem, big guy?”
Ironic, coming from him.
I stand at the same time as he does. My nerves completely shot. My patience scarily thin. “I find it funny that your son has cheated in every one of his fights to get this far. My niece is going to show him what she’s made of. Your son doesn’t stand a chance against her.”
He smiles again, wanting a bigger reaction from me. “We’ll see,” is all he offers when presumably his wife tells him to sit back down.
Mum gives me a similar look, and Pops reluctantly turns away, muttering expletives under his breath.
I glance at Morgan. She’s got one of those expressions like she can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing.
“Sorry,” I say quickly to her and those people around me still looking my way.
After a beat, it’s Morgan who breaks the silence. “Here we go.”
The bell dings and the ten-minute timer begins ticking down on the scoreboard.
Both kids start hopping on the balls of their feet, defensively turning in one big circle with their hands up.
My heart’s erratic rhythm matches the tapping of Morgan’s feet. She seems as nervous as I am, all for a kid she doesn’t even know. Shit, even I don’t know Evie as well as I should.
She was really just a baby when I last saw her.
Of course, once my cousin, Charlie, passed away, Mum would give me regular updates to keep me in the know.
When his will was finally read out and we knew that she would be coming to Stoney Grange, I tried to call her every so often.
It never felt like it wasn’t enough. But being here now makes me think I could never go back to just a few random phone calls. The thought alone suddenly hurts.
The crowd oohs and aahs as Evie manages to gain control by forcing her opponent to his back with a side mount. Like a splattered sack of shit, the kid underneath her is flat on his back, arms and legs spread wide.
The ref drops to his knees, counting to three before he taps the mat.
Evie gains the first point and hops to her feet while the kid gets up.
“Never mind. Get her next time,” his dad shouts from behind us.
Inside, I’m fucking relieved she got the first point.
“She’s so good,” Morgan squeaks.
I nod, eyes still on Evie. “Are we supposed to feel this nervous at a kids sporting event?”
Morgan shakes her head, clapping her hands as the ref signals them to fight. “I’m not sure. The closest I’ve come to anything competitive like this is when Holly and I played mini golf.” Her arms shoot into the air. “Oh, come on ref.”
I smile at her getting into this.
It quickly fades when Evie’s hauled to the ground with the kid’s legs around her waist. She tries to break free, but he loops his left arm under hers, then pulls her back.
I jump to my feet. “Come on, Evie,” we cry in unison.
Evie defends her neck, not allowing him to get an arm lock on her.
Just when I think she might break free, the kid pulls her back with a jolt, managing to swing his right leg over her neck, forcing her into submission. He earns a point, and they both break apart.
I sit back down.
“Damn it,” Pops says, running a hand over his face.
“Couldn’t Charlie have got her into ballet or something less life threatening?” Mum gasps, covering her face before looking at me.
“Come on. Evie’s fearless. Remember what she did to their cat that one time? I bet he tried.”
Morgan looks at me wide-eyed. “What did she do to the cat?”
I can’t help but laugh. “It was attacking a bird. Evie went out and caught it, prized the bird straight from its mouth. She was three, and none of us wanted to do it.” I look back at the blue mats. There are seven minutes left on the clock.
“Brave kid.”
“Yeah. Bravest I know.”
After six gruelling minutes, the score is tied at two a piece. Evie is definitely feeling the burn of fighting a kid who’s bigger than her. She blows out her cheeks, and in the quickest of glances, she looks our way.
“She’s panicking,” I say, more to myself than to anyone else.
“She should be. She’s about to get beaten by a champ, who in ten years’ time, you’ll be screaming his name from the rooftops.”
The young boy’s father hasn’t let up the whole fight. His son is dominating Evie for the first time since the clock started counting down. He claps his hands loudly, only serving to piss me off.
“In your shape, you won’t be around in ten years.”
Morgan covers her mouth with a gasp. At this point, I can’t tell if she’s trying to hide a grin or if she never wants to see me again. Either way, he doesn’t hear my insult, and only continues to thud his hands together, chanting from the top of his lungs.
“You’re not going to do anything stupid. Are you?”
It’s my turn to grin Morgan’s way. “No. Why? Think I should?”
In one swift move, Morgan’s hand is on my cheek, turning my face to look at her. “I think you’ve done enough stupid things lately, Paddy O’Keefe.”
I search her face as she drops her hand. With every second that ticks by on the scoreboard, it feels like our time is running out to clear the air.
“That’s probably true.” I look back at Evie.
With forty seconds left on the clock, she looks exhausted.
“But I forgive you,” Morgan exclaims casually.
I keep my eyes forward. “You shouldn’t. I overstepped a boundary, and for that, I’m truly sorry, Morgs.”
“Don’t sweat it,” she says, giving me a nudge. “No harm was done.” She shyly tucks a golden curl behind her ear. “Besides. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
There’s something more than sarcasm lacing her words when I scrutinise her.
She looks away, mouth dropping open. “Oh my God, look. Look at her go.” She excitedly hits my arm.
My eyes dart to Evie, and my back straightens as she grips her opponent’s sleeve. Her other hand dashes to his collar as she adjusts the grip near his elbow. Her feet land flat on the mat, and in small movements, she wriggles herself out from underneath him, one knee coming up to his chest.
My hand lands on Morgan’s shoulder as she begins to stand. “She’s going to do it,” she squeaks.
Our entire row gets to its feet, almost in one synchronised movement.
“Think she can hear me?” Morgan rushes out.
I shrug, blowing out a breath.
Morgan cups her hands around her mouth. “You’ve got this, Evie. Remember your signature move.”
Both my mum and dad are jumping up and down as Evie crunches her body towards the kid in her hold, then towards her foot. She bends and hooks his leg out before she comes up into a mount, effectively pinning him.
Evie locks the kid’s head under her shoulder. One knee lands on his chest, the other coming up so that she can steady herself. When she pulls back, his head is trapped.
“She’s going to do it.” Morgan’s hand grips my arm, the other on my mum’s.
Mum’s hands scrunch in her hair. “Hold on, Evie. Hold on,” she cries, but she needn’t worry.
The kid underneath Evie taps his hand on the mat, signalling his submission.
The buzzer sounds, and the ref stands to his feet, breaking an overcome Evie off the young boy.
“She did it.” Morgan smiles so widely; it knocks the air from my lungs, and the crowd applauds with a burst of excitement.
In her own rush of excitement, Morgan’s hands fly around my neck unexpectedly; her body vibrating with happiness.
“Are you trying the signature scarf hold on me?” I ask, the coconut smell of her shampoo hitting me. When she pulls away giggling, I find myself staring at her, seeing her happy.
For a moment, she’s staring back.
“Let go of each other, you two. Evie’s waving at us.” Mum rolls her eyes.
I wisely keep my gaze forward, because one thing’s for sure, Morgan Brooks felt good in my arms.