Chapter 6 Jade #2
Tieran stands over Myles with a smile spread across his face, a single ray of sun peeking out from behind the clouds for the first time all day, illuminating him in golden light.
My eyes trace a greedy, illicit path down his form.
Sweat glistens down his neck, soaking the jersey clinging to his sculpted abdomen, and his shorts are rucked up higher than necessary over his thick quads, showing off countless tattoos.
I can’t make out what most of them are from this distance, but a fierce dragon or snake curls around his right kneecap, slithering further up his thigh.
I noticed a few tattoos when we met at the pub, but with his current state of undress, I’m realizing there is a lot more than I could see that night.
It makes me wonder how many others there could be.
He’s got most of one leg covered, several scattered over his arms, and my brain helpfully recollects one particularly tantalizing piece just below his ear, beckoning my mouth the night we met.
Heat settles low, and I chastise myself for indulging in these thoughts. That night didn’t happen, and it would do me no good to delude myself of a fantasy that would never come to pass.
I turn to leave before anyone notices I’m here and jump when I see someone hovering behind me.
“Oh! Harry, hello. I didn’t hear you walking up.”
“Didn’t mean to startle you, miss. I was just bringing out more towels for the players,” the team’s soft spoken equipment manager says.
“No worries. Thank you for your hard work.” I move to step past him, hoping he didn’t see me staring at a certain player for longer than appropriate.
Thirty minutes later, I’m stepping through the door of my flat and kicking my heels off.
I groan loudly at the sweet relief of not walking on toothpicks anymore and shuffle into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of sauvignon blanc.
Looking around my home, I make a mental note to buy a very nice gift for Aanya, because the progress the last couple weeks is nothing short of astounding.
After a few glasses of wine the night we met, she told me she was a musician.
She’d spent the last several years playing at pubs and in the underground scene, but that was why she had so much free time to help me.
She’s currently taking every gig she could to break into more mainstream avenues, hoping she’ll be in the right place at the right time to meet someone who could take her career to new heights.
It was on the tip of my tongue that I could probably help her, but fear kept me quiet about my own place in the public eye, afraid if she knew, she'd start looking at me as a meal ticket to a large platform of exposure.
It’s a feeling I have become accustomed to over the last decade, but I don’t think I could stomach the disappointment I would feel if the one…friend I have in London turned out to be the same as everyone else.
But by the next morning, she was outside my door with a surly exterminator and a large coffee for me, shoving her way in and putting the man to work.
That, plus the cleaning crew she brought in, the interior painter who was here a few days later, and the mood boards she created for each room, just for fun, has her creeping dangerously close to sainthood in my mind.
The couch I ordered still won’t arrive for a few weeks, so I settle onto the makeshift one I made of spare blankets, placing my laptop on top of a pillow before hopping on my first Zoom meeting of the night.
It isn’t until halfway through my second meeting and my third glass of wine that I start to feel woozy and order dinner for delivery.
When there’s a knock on my door, I hop up, head spinning as I rush over, ready to rip the bag out of the driver's hands and scarf down the carbonara I’ve been dreaming about for the past twenty-five minutes. Instead, I’m met with the beaming face of my neighbor.
“Try not to look so pleased to see me, or I might get the wrong idea.” Aanya waggles her eyebrows at me.
I shove my head out the door, hoping beyond hope the delivery man will be just behind her. He’s not, and my stomach growls as I shut the door behind me.
“What brings you by?” I ask.
“I wanted to invite you out to one of my shows tonight.” She’s all frenetic energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet, baggy jeans slung low on her hips, a black bandeau top wrapped snug around her chest. She’s accented her outfit with a cuff around her bicep, her always present nose ring, and smokey black liner.
She’s effortlessly cool in a way that looks like she put no effort into trying.
“I can’t. I have to work.”
Her face falls, and the springing halts. “But it’s half eight.”
“I know, but I have product development and review meetings in thirty minutes and about ten different reports I have to sort through.”
“Weren’t you at the stadium all day? That’s not good work-life balance,” she chuckles.
“Ah—that doesn’t exist in my life,” I try to joke, but her laugh vanishes, replaced with concern.
“Are you sure you can’t come?”
The hope in her warm eyes is actually killing me.
I want to go support her, repay her even a smidge for all she’s done to help a person she barely even knew.
But all my associates are already upset I’ve upended things by moving across the world; bailing on meetings last minute is not going to make the situation any easier.
“Maybe next time?” I say, not knowing if she’ll bother to invite me again. I’m surprised to find the thought makes me sad.
The knock at the door saves her from having to respond as I walk over and wrench it open, seeing a pock-marked teenager texting and holding out the bag for me to take.
Aanya exits the door after he’s left. “I’ll catch you later, Jade.”
“See ya.”
Guilt eats at me, and for the first time, I regret what I do for work and the pressure I’m under to always be perfect.