Chapter 9 Tieran
“Don’t look, but the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen just walked in,” Myles says with hearts popping out of his eyes.
“Actually, maybe hide under the table or something. I don’t want her to notice you instead of me.
” He starts pressing on my shoulders, trying to shove me under the high top we’re sitting at.
“You’re an idiot,” I laugh.
“I’m just making sure the odds are in my favor here. Your supernatural blue eyes tend to steal focus. I don’t need my future wife seeing you before me.”
It’s a ridiculous sentiment, because Myles, like many professional athletes, is a walking Men’s Health magazine—tall and built like the rugby player, lightly golden skin, with dark blonde hair and moss green eyes that make women trip over themselves.
Plus, he’s worried for nothing, because my mind is still stuck on the woman I met the last time I was in this pub, still stuck on baby blue toenails, honey eyes and her razor sharp mouth.
“Don’t worry, mate. I have no intention of dating at the moment.” Not unless a certain brunette decides to admit to a particular tryst in this very pub. Otherwise, I’m good.
“I thought you were over Olivia?” He sips on his pint, but his eyes don’t stray from the woman who walked in for long.
“Oh, trust me, I am.”
When I found out my girlfriend of a year was cheating on me via the world’s stage—also known as The Daily Mail—I didn’t believe it.
The infamous gossip rag was notorious for publishing utter bollocks and couldn’t be trusted.
Olivia and I were solid; we had a holiday booked to Ibiza set for after the end of the season, and I was thinking about introducing her to my parents, despite her reluctance to meet them.
There was no indication she was unhappy, that I wasn’t giving her what she needed.
In my mind, it was all a lie and not something I needed to be worried about.
The fact that I couldn’t catch her on her mobile that day was merely a coincidence.
Then, I was on the pitch with possession of the ball when Oliver Hughes, the man supposedly having an affair with my girlfriend, tackled me to the ground and said, “I’m going to take this game, just like I took your girl—hard and easy. ”
My stomach dropped, but my heart still couldn't believe it. How could it, when just two days before, she had been in my arms in bed, smiling up at me as she told me she loved me? But I had no choice when, at the end of the match—after we lost, because I couldn’t focus—Olivia ran out onto the pitch in Newcastle colours and jumped straight into Oliver’s arms.
By the next day, The Daily Mail had a new headline: ‘Legends Fly-Half Hung Out to Dry’, accompanied by a photo of me pissed out of my mind and slumped against the back wall of a pub. Every day of the week, there was a different news story.
Tieran Stone: A Cautionary Tale on Shooting for the Moon and Falling on Your Face.
Stone’s Over Olivia! Legends Captain Seen with a Different Woman Every Night.
Scrum on the Streets: Tieran Stone Starts a Brawl After Another Match Lost.
It was a really bad time in my life. I felt like shite from drinking too much, I was underperforming at work, and I was heartbroken.
I thought we had been building something.
It wasn’t perfect, but on paper, we worked—until she torched it.
I grappled with trying to understand why.
What did I do? The internet had its theories, and while it felt like my life was disintegrating around me, the world weighed in, and I didn’t cope well.
Rigorous practices during the day bled into drinking heavily at night, making choices I’d regret the next morning.
It wasn’t until Coach Ballard threatened to kick me off the team that I pulled my head out of my ass.
Still, the blow to my confidence left me feeling like I couldn’t trust my own instincts long after I got my act together, and it bled into every aspect of my life.
Suddenly, I was unsure about everything.
If I couldn’t even see signs Olivia was unfulfilled, what else was I missing?
Was I a bad captain too? Did I support my parents enough?
Did my friends really like me, or were we just mates because we were on the team together?
How much would the fans hate me if I wasn’t playing at the top of my game every match and bringing home wins?
Overnight, everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers, creating a vat of quicksand at my feet that I was starting to drown in.
I am over the bullshit with Olivia. There’s no part of me that misses, or longs for her. If anything, the distance gave me perspective. I just wish it hadn’t played out so publicly, because even though I’ve moved on, the media is still hellbent on never letting me forget.
“I just need to stay focused on the game, you know? Get us back on track without any distractions,” I add on.
“Fuck me, she’s stunning. I’m going to talk to her before the night is over,” Myles says, oblivious to the fact that I’m still talking.
My eyes scan the crowd as I sip my beer, trailing over to the bar so I can finally see who his future wife is.
“There she is.” He points over to the end of the bar closest to the door, where a woman stands, wearing a fitted black dress with a plunging neckline, strappy black stilettos, and eyes that make my whole body tighten.
“Jade?”
“Who?”
I point. “Miss McKallen. That’s who you’re talking about?”
His face clouds with confusion before his whole countenance shifts to something gleeful. “Oh, this is perfect. Jade!” he yells out.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“I just found an in, my friend. See the absolute goddess standing to the right of our boss?” I shift my eyes over and notice for the first time that another woman is even there.
Next to Jade is a beautiful woman with deep tanned skin, sultry eyes, and dark hair that fades into a warm ginger.
She’s lovely, to be sure, but my eyes quickly find their way back to ones of burning topaz with a flame of blue.
Myles calls out Jade's name again, and this time, she hears him over the sounds of the pub and looks toward where we’re sitting—only steps from where we first met. It’s curious that she would come back here, of all places, when she’s been so determined to act like our night together never happened.
Her eyes widen in recognition that melts into horror as her friend's eyes jump back and forth between us all, lingering on Myles a little longer than necessary. An argument of sorts seems to be happening between the two women before her friend grabs her bare arm and yanks her toward us.
My greedy eyes rove all over her body; she looks like sin incarnate in that dress, with her dark hair unbound, falling loosely in waves around her face and down her back. Her kohl rimmed eyes zero in on me, and a scowl mars her face at my obvious perusal.
Bringing the pint glass up to my mouth, I smirk into the rim and see her back straighten a little more before they stop before our table.
Tension builds as the silence grows, no one making a move to say anything. My stare never leaves Jade’s face, and, judging by the way she’s ignoring my gaze, I’d guess she’s trying very hard to not think about the last time we were in this pub together.
“Hey, boss. Come here often?” I suppress a smile at her answering glare.
Jade’s eyes narrow as the tantalizing spot of blue burns like fire, promising hell for daring to remind her. “Once. Didn’t enjoy it much, though.”
The insult doesn’t sting the way she intends. This is the Jade I met all those weeks ago, giving as good as she gets—confident, brilliant, absolutely stunning. Her stare is severe, but there's an undercurrent between us that softens it around the edges, making it playful.
When I first laid eyes on her that night across the pub, I thought she was a mirage pulled straight out of my deepest fantasies.
Piercing eyes, soft, full mouth wrapped around the rim of her martini, and a body that made every part of me ache.
Then, she started laying into the drunk next to her, and I was a goner. I needed to talk to her, know her.
“We’ll have to change that then,” I say back.
Her friend’s eyes zip between the two of us as we hold each other's stare; Myles never looks away from her, completely taken despite her not having said a word.
Reaching my hand out but keeping my focus on Jade, I introduce myself to her friend. “Hi, I’m Tieran. This is Myles.” I finally look at her and then nod my head in his direction.
Her friend turns to greet mine, grasping his palm in hers, her breath catching. “Hi,” she stutters out.
“Hey…” His voice trails off in question.
“Aanya,” she supplies.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, and she flushes scarlet.
They’re still holding hands, and now it’s our eyes pinging back and forth between our two friends. If love at first sight exists, I’d say I’m witnessing it right now.
“I’m going to go get a drink. Aanya, do you want to come?” Jade says, trying to break the trance they seem to be in.
“Nope. But I’ll take a Negroni.” She sits in the empty seat next to Myles, leaning against the table.
Jade snorts and turns on her heels to walk back toward the bar. I watch as her hips sway in the tiny dress clinging to the curve of her arse, hypnotizing me into standing and trailing after her.
When she gets to the bar, she wheedles her way through a crowd of people, fighting for a spot at the front.
At least five different men are leering at her, some of them working to press in closer, before I walk up, shoving them away with a push of my hand and settling in behind her, too close to be casual.
I lean into her ear. “You’re about to incite a brawl, Hellfire.” Gooseflesh dances across the skin around her neck.
“Alert the media,” she drawls sarcastically. “Men always do stupid things when they think with their dicks instead of their brains.”