10
Tania booked a little local restaurant that was quickly overrun with warm laughter.
The team was packed into the back room like a tin of sardines, but they didn’t seem to mind.
Their plates were piled high, and Claire noticed the half-eaten steaks and heaping mounds of sides being launched into mouths, abandoned in favor of the next bite.
Coach Reynolds sat at the head of the table, his posture still taut from the match, sipping beer with other staff. Miko, still nursing a rough tear on his leg from the tackle, was shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth with recklessness, earning a few amused glances from the team.
Coach leaned back in his chair, watching them all with a smirk.
“Eat up, boys,” he said. “You’ve earned it.
” The sound of laughter bounced off the walls, stories from the match being retold with exaggerated flair, beer and cocktails flowing through every conversation.
Every now and then, someone would lean over to Noah, teasing him about his glare towards the ref earlier on the field, and he’d just shake his head, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“Speech!” someone yelled.
“It’s not my speech to make today,” responded the coach, “Captain? Do you want to say something?”
“Nah, it’s Skiddies’ day,” Noah gallantly replied.
The room quieted a notch as Jack stood, beer glass in hand, leaning slightly against the polished wooden table. His grin was happy, eyes sparkling with mischief and pride, and even the rowdiest of the team straightened up to listen.
“Alright, alright,” he began, voice carrying easily over the laughter and clatter.
“First game, first win, and yeah... What can I say? I couldn’t have done it without you all,” he said, nodding toward Noah, who raised a brow but said nothing.
A few teammates hooted, slapping Jack on the back and bum.
“But seriously,” Jack continued, tone shifting to something warmer, almost sincere, “this win? It wasn’t just me.
Every tackle, every ruck, every bloody sprint across the field– it was all of us.
You guys trusted me to finish it, and I trusted you to get me there.
That’s what makes a team.” He lifted his glass.
“So, here’s to the first of many wins this season.
And here’s to doing it together, on and off the field. ”
Glasses clinked, voices joined in cheers, and even Noah let a small, reluctant smile cross his face. Miko shoved him lightly, whispering, “See? Told you he’d make it sound professional.” Noah just shook his head, but his eyes softened, following the team as laughter and camaraderie filled the room.
After dinner, the energy in the room was still buzzing, but the team started glancing at their watches, stretching limbs still sore from the match. Miko groaned dramatically, as if anxious of time running out. Rubbing his thigh, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed excitement.
Tania leaned in, smirking. “You lot aren’t done yet, are you?”
“Not even close,” Jack replied, grinning. “I say we take this win into the night. Sydney doesn’t know what’s about to hit it.”
“Watch out Sydney!” Toby yelled, “We are ready for you!”
Noah, still quiet but clearly intrigued, finally spoke. “A night out– smart way to bond, as long as everyone keeps it together.” His tone was flat, professional, but there was a thread of permission in there that didn’t go unnoticed.
Miko clapped his hands together. “Right, then! Operation Get Blasted is a go!” He immediately began listing ideas: a club, a bar, maybe even a late-night food stop. The others shouted over each other, excitedly debating the best route, the music, the drinks.
Within thirty minutes, the team dispersed to their rooms to shower and change.
Suits, crisp shirts, and sleek jackets replaced jerseys and shorts; hair was combed, shoes polished, a subtle swagger in every step.
Even the more laid-back players, who usually shrugged off style, emerged looking sharp, sunglasses tucked in pockets, despite the night, and laughter already spilling from hallways.
By the time they reconvened in the hotel lobby, the group looked like a force in motion: a team on and off the field, united in victory and ready to take the city with them.
As they spilled into the night, the glow of neon lights reflected in their eyes, the first game was done, but the real bonding– the kind forged in laughter, teasing, and shared adventure– was just beginning. Claire was excited to join in the fun.
Claire stepped out of the lift, and for a second, the lobby seemed to still.
The silk of her scarlet dress caught the light with every movement, a liquid shimmer that clung to her in all the right places before falling into a graceful slit along her thigh.
The cropped leather jacket, slung over her shoulders gave the look a whisper of danger.
Her gold heels clicked softly against the marble floor as her new friends turned, mid-conversation, their laughter faltering for a moment.
She looked utterly breathtaking - the kind of beautiful that wasn’t trying, just was.
Her hair fell in soft waves, her lipstick a perfect match to the red that ruled the room.
“Ready to go?” she directed towards Tania.
Tania, mouth still agape, “Yeah, yeah, ready”.
Claire looked down at her outfit. “What? Is it too much?”
“Absolutely not, do not take off that outfit Claire Ashford. You're beautiful and we will find you an Aussie boyfriend tonight!”
Tania linked arms with Claire and they giggled together. For the first time in weeks, Claire wasn’t thinking about anyone else, just the promise of a Sydney night waiting to be lived.
Claire walked with Tania towards an unassuming building.
The club was a blend of color and heat, the kind of place where music and movement blurred into one long, breathless environment.
They make their way through the crowd to the long, energetic bar.
The air is thick with perfume, sweat, laughter and lust. Tania thrusted a cool glass of something citrus and sparking into Claire’s hand, and she took a sip, the fizz catching in her throat.
Claire surveyed the dance floor. She loved dancing and didn’t remember the last time she was able to just dance, being uninhibited.
Free. She overheard laughter from familiar voices nearby.
The team was already there, some in a private booth area, some in a loose circle of bodies on the dance floor, shoulders glinting under the strobe lights.
Some of the guys had already found partners, hands on hips or backs, laughter slipping easily between songs. Claire hesitated for only a second before being pulled onto the dance floor by Kelsey, her new beautifully outgoing friend, her dress catching the light like a flame as she moved.
“Let’s dance!” he screamed over the music.
The rhythm took over, drink in hand, hips swaying, hair brushing her shoulders, and when she turned around, Jack was there at a distance.
Staring with hungry and determined eyes.
Kesley, met the gaze of a sultry young man in the dance floor, and quickly said to Claire “Gotta go!”, as he rushed off to dance with this potential new lover.
Tania introduced some friends to Claire.
“Claire! This is Stephanie!” she yelled over the music, “A friend of mine from uni. She lives here in Sydney!”
“Hi!” Stephanie yelled, resting a hand on Claire’s arm, giving it a loving squeeze. “Oh my God, you’re so beautiful! I thought you said she was a doctor, Tanny!”
“She is a doctor! I swear!” Tania yelled back.
Claire laughed, “I am a real doctor, scout's honor.” She noticed that her drink was empty. “Ladies, do you want another round?” The girls agreed that they needed more drinks and headed for the bar.
“So,” Stephanie said, leaning closer so she could be heard. “You actually like working with this crew?”
Claire smiled into her empty drink glass. “Most days.”
Stephanie grinned. “Good answer. Rugby players are fun, but crazy. Stick with Tania and me tonight – we’ll make sure you survive your first post-win celebration.”
Tania whooped, took a shot of something clear, offered the other shots to the girls, and looped an arm through each of theirs. “Now that’s the spirit. Come on, Doc – time to see if you can dance as well as you diagnose.”
Claire barely had time to protest before they were swept toward the dance floor, the lights spinning and laughter rising around them. She felt the liquid courage starting to heat her insides, perhaps clouding her judgement.
Jack was still watching her from across the crowd, and he started moving in, fast. She didn’t know what to do next, just that he was suddenly there, his massive stature close enough for her to feel his breath against her cheek.
The dance shifted, the air between them tightened.
His strong hands hovered, never quite touching, but his body matched hers perfectly.
A slow, intoxicatingly dangerous rhythm that had nothing to do with the song and had everything to do with everything else.
The flirting, the glances. Around them, the lights strobed and the crowd roared, and for a few long, magnetic seconds, it was just the two of them.
All heat, tension, and the impossible pull of what they both knew they shouldn’t want.
His palm slid to her hip, guiding her in time with the music.
She felt his breath against her ear, and he projected over the music, “We should dance together more. Let me take you out!”
“Maybe,” she said, though her voice caught slightly – the words brushing too close to something else.
Jack grinned. “You keep overthinking. Just–” His hand tightened slightly around her hand, giving her a spin, “–move with me. For now.”
And she did.
It was effortless, almost dangerous – the way their bodies fell into each other, the way her pulse matched the beat. The distance between them vanished, replaced by heat, by his scent of soap, sweat, something darker.
Her fingers brushed the edge of his Brooks Brothers shirt, dampened by sweat and lust; his breath hitched.
For one reckless moment, her thoughts flickered: What if she didn’t stop? What if she just let it happen? What if she liked it?
It felt like the crowd disappeared. The music drowned itself out. There was only him, the faint scrape of his stubble as he leaned in so close she can almost kiss–
“Jack.”
The word sliced clean through the moment.
Noah stood just a few feet away, half in shadow, sleeves to his white button down rolled up so it exposed the tattoos on his dark forearms, posture controlled, his eyes anything but.
Jack straightened, still close enough that Claire could feel the heat off him.
“Cap,” he said evenly, though there was an edge to it – a challenge.
Noah didn’t look at him. His gaze was locked on Claire. “Tania’s asking for you,” he said, voice low, steady. “Said she needs a word.”
Claire swallowed, pulse still thudding in her throat. “Right.”
Jack gave her a look – something between apology and promise – then stepped back just enough to let her pass.
As she followed him out of the crowd, the air between Claire and Noah thickened, the music fading into a dull throb behind them.
Neither spoke, not yet. She felt like this moment belonged to another world; one she’d just been pulled out of too soon.
The air near the outskirts of the dance floor was cooler, quieter – but her pulse was still racing from the dance, from him, from the interruption.
Tania was nowhere in sight.
Claire turned a slow circle, scanning the nearby booths. “Where is she?”
Noah didn’t answer right away. He stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
“Noah.” Her tone sharpened. “You said Tania needed me.”
He finally looked at her. “She didn’t.”
Claire blinked. “So, you lied?”
He didn’t flinch. “You were about to make a mistake.”
“A mistake?” she repeated, incredulous. “Dancing?”
He exhaled, face tight. “That wasn’t just dancing.”
Her breath caught, anger bubbled up faster than she expected. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I do when it’s one of my players,” he shot back, stepping closer. His voice was calm, but there was something underneath – something almost territorial. “You’re part of the staff. He’s under my leadership. There are lines, and he knows better than to blur them.”
Claire stared at him, disbelief giving way to heat – not embarrassment, but fury. “Unbelievable,” she muttered. “You pull me away in front of everyone because you think it looks bad? You think I don’t know how to handle myself?”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” she demanded, voice low but steady. “Because it sure felt like you didn’t want him touching me.”
His jaw flexed. For a bit, he said nothing.
Then, softer. “You don’t understand.”
She huffed a sharp, humorless laugh.
“I don’t have to understand. You should understand that you have no right to interfere in my personal life, Noah. None.”
He held her gaze, eyes brown and hard as glass. “And he has no right to forget he’s a player. That’s the difference.”
The silence between them thickened, heavy, charged, full of everything neither of them were saying.
Noah sighs in an exacerbated confession and he rubbed his hand over his hair. “You’re right. I don’t want him touching you.”
Finally, Claire shook her head and stormed up to his face. “You might be the captain on the field, but you don’t get to play that role everywhere else.”
She didn’t wait for his reply. The music swelled again as she stepped back toward the crowd, every pulse of the bass syncing with the frustration burning under her skin.
She found a stranger and pulled him onto the dance floor.
“You. Dance with me,” she commanded him.
“Oh-oh-okay” he said, confused, but willing.
Behind her, Noah didn’t follow – but his fuming eyes did, as this stranger danced with Claire almost closer than Jack, the charming and magnetic winger from the New Zealand Crusaders.