23
A whistle blew to start the game. Claire and Jack were sitting on an aluminum bleacher in a stadium that was smaller than the ones she’d grown used to. There were no massive screens, or roaring coordinated chants, but still a passionate crowd supporting their school colors.
“Who are we rooting for again?” Claire asked Jack.
“No one, we are here to watch good rugby for once.” Jack leaned close to Claire, “I like watching college footy. It’s more contact.” Claire glanced at the sprawling pitch before looking back into Jack’s green eyes. “They have more to lose, see. So, the plays are tougher.”
“I still don’t fully understand the rules,” she said.
“That’s also why we’re here,” he nudged, “Allow me to be your professor for today.”
“You’ll teach me then?”
“Do you want me to teach you, Claire?” The corner of his mouth pulled up, like he knew exactly what he was doing and was enjoying every second of it.
“Yes,” she simply responded.
“Ask and you shall receive, then.”
A girl a few rows over prodded at her friend and whispered a little too loudly.
Claire noticed her phone angled just slightly in their direction, then quickly lowered, when it was obvious Claire was looking out of her periphery.
There was another guy who was pretending to scroll while very obviously not scrolling.
There was a small voice in Claire’s head that always had her on alert because of Jace. She had a bad taste in her mouth, remembering him now. She thought it was quite rude of him for coming into her brain at a time like this.
Claire leaned toward Jack’s ear. “You’re being watched.”
Jack didn’t even look. “Yeah.”
“You don’t seem concerned.”
He shrugged, easy. “They’re trying to be subtle. That’s already more respectful than usual. Probably because I’m with you.”
There was a quick flash. Someone definitely took a picture.
Claire raised a brow. “They’re not subtle.”
“That’s why I’m ignoring it,” he said, pulling out the thermal blanket he packed. He spread it over their legs. “If I acknowledge it, it becomes a whole thing.”
His hand brushed her upper thigh as he adjusted the blanket.
Claire leaned closer into it, inviting his hand to stay there. “So, what I’m understanding is that I’m just… casually attending a game with a celebrity.”
Jack snorted. “Don’t start.”
Claire took out her phone. “Oh! Mr. Hayworth! Over here!” She teased. “Pose for me, Hayworth.” He did an overly dramatized pose as her flash went off.
Claire looked at the unflattering picture and burst out laughing. “Oh my God. I’m going to sell this. Is there a black market for these?”
“Let me see,” Jack said, leaning to catch a glimpse. “Ugh, delete that one, please.”
“Absolutely not!”
“We can take a real one.” He reached for her phone again.
“This is a real one. It’s perfect.” Claire put her phone back into her pocket. “I love it, actually.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief. “Let’s take a better one later.”
“I’m just saying,” she said lightly, though her eyes flicked to another phone pointed in their direction. “Your fan club is trying very hard to act cool.”
A group behind them burst into loud and sudden laughter. Claire didn’t need to turn around to know they were the focus.
Jack leaned back, arm stretching along the bench behind her like it belonged there. “Give them five minutes. They’ll either come ask for a photo or pretend they never saw me.”
“And which do you prefer?”
He turned his head slightly and looked at her. “Neither. I came here to watch rugby.”
He paused.
Then quieter, just for her, “And to spend time with you.”
Claire’s breath hitched.
She cleared her throat, turning toward the field. “Right. Rugby. You're supposed to be teaching me.”
“Yeah,” he said, but his voice had shifted slightly too.
He nodded towards the field as the whistle blew. “Ok. So, you see that? That’s a ruck. The person who is carrying the ball goes down, the support players clear over to keep possession.”
Claire leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees, focusing. Or trying to.
He pointed as the ball spun out. “Watch the number nine. He is the link between forwards and backs.”
Claire was able to track the movement as the game went on with Jack narrating beside her. His voice was steady, low enough that it felt like it was just for her, despite all the noise around them.
Behind them, there was a whisper.
“Oh my God, that is him–”
“Don’t look–”
“I’m not looking–”
“You’re literally looking–”
Claire bit back a smile.
“Your fans are struggling,” she murmured.
Jack didn’t turn. “They’ll survive.”
On the field, the ball was kicked high, spiraling up into the night sky.
Claire followed it automatically, but the trajectory didn’t register fast enough. Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly as he tracked its path.
A shout cut across the stands.
“HEADS!”
Claire turned toward the sound. The ball was already dropping. It was dropping very fast. Very direct. Straight to her face.
There was no time to think.
Jack moved.
One second, he was beside her. The next, he was in front of her.
His arms shot out, body angling instinctively, hands snapping up just in front of her face. The ball slammed into his palm with a sharp, solid thud. Gasps rippled through the nearby rows.
Claire was frozen. Jack stayed there for a second, close. His body shielding hers, arms braced just beyond her shoulder, the ball gripped securely in his hands. It was a clean catch, somehow.
“Got it,” he said, almost under his breath.
Claire blinked up at him, heart racing for a completely different reason now.
“You just–”
He glanced down at her with twinkling eyes, expression softening slightly. “You okay?”
She nodded, though her voice came out quieter than she intended. “Yeah.”
They were still close. But to Claire it wasn’t close enough. She wanted to be closer, despite being able to feel the heat coming off him and can see the steady rise and fall of his chest.
His focus hadn’t fully left her yet.
They heard murmurs behind them.
“Did you see that–”
“He just caught it like it was nothing–”
“Oh my God, I got it on video–”
Jack exhaled softly, straightening, the moment breaking just enough to pass the rugby ball to a ball boy.
“That was not subtle at all.” Claire joked with Jack despite being more uncomfortable than she had felt in a long time. She felt bare at seeing all the cell phones out, taking pictures of the couple. Vulnerable. Again.
“Yeah,” Jack muttered, sitting back down and throwing the blanket back over them. “That one’s going online.”
She glanced at him. “Don’t you feel… exposed somehow?”
He shrugged, but this time it wasn’t as effortless. “Comes with the job.” That didn’t really answer her question, but he looked at her again. “It’s sometimes a lot. But this?” he added quietly, gesturing between them, the game, the moment. “This makes it worth it.”
On the field, the whistle blew again.
Jack leaned in, closer than before, wrapped a hand around her shoulder and kissed her temple.
“Alright,” he said softly. “Back to your lesson.”
Claire smiled, secretly resting her hand in his free one, under the blanket. Her eyes flicked to his before returning to the game.
“Right,” she said, “where were we? Scrum half or something?”
Jack’s mouth curved slightly. “Exactly.”