touchline tension
SMILE BY LILY ALLEN
Alan’s office feels colder than usual. Normally, when we have our meetings, I sit casually on the sofa while we chat over the agenda for the week.
But today? Today I sit in a chair at the table with my back straight, legs crossed at the knee, not because I’m comfortable but because I need to look like I’m not dying inside.
Matt sits across from me, close enough to make my skin crawl. He’s only been here a week, and it’s already a week too long. He leans back in his chair like this is his office, his club, and we’re all his employees, gathered here to bask in his greatness.
Alan sits at the head of the table, nodding along as Jim lays out the upcoming fixtures, training schedule, and recovery days. An international break is coming up, so logistically there’s a lot to plan for.
I clear my throat and flip to a page in my notebook. “We’ve got a few community events on the docket. There’s a hospital visit this week that Wolfe and Cabrera will be taking on, and I’m working with Gemma in media to finalize a date for a youth camp. I think we’re hoping for—”
“Oh,” Matt cuts in smoothly, “I’m so glad you took my suggestion.” He’s smiling, like it’s innocent. “You know, about increasing visibility with the younger fans.”
My mouth goes dry. We never talked about that.
Not even close. I’ve done an incredible job avoiding him this past week.
I’ve put on a masterclass performance of faking phone calls and conveniently having the world's tiniest bladder.
And for what? For him to sit here and weave himself into the narrative?
“Well, I’ve been working on this for a while. I’ve been speaking with this organization involved for over a month.”
Nice try, asshole.
Matt shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, and looks away. I know what he said was intentional. I know that tone. I know that smile. I know his pathological need to put his name on my work.
Alan flips the page in his binder. “Good, that’s settled. Now, the international break. Make sure your date for the event is after that, maybe on a recovery day. Most of the players will be traveling during the break—some with their national teams, and others just on holiday.”
I nod, jotting it down.
But then Matt chimes in, because of course he does. He can’t let a single conversation pass by without having the last word.
“I’ll be in the city. I figured it would be a good time to spend some time in the area.”
Fuck. He means me.
I force my face to remain unfazed, but it feels like someone’s thrown a bucket of ice water over me. Of course he’ll be in the city. Of course he’ll be here, watching every move I make. The idea of being stuck here while everyone else is gone makes me feel sick.
Alan nods. Matt looks over at me and smiles, like he’s enjoying fooling everyone. He leans forward, gesturing casually toward Jim like they’re old pals. “I’m sure coach is going to enjoy a few days’ rest with the schedule coming up.”
“It’s Gaffer, actually,” I deadpan.
Matt glances at me, his smile intact, but I see the flicker in his eyes. He hates being corrected, especially by me.
“Oh, right,” he says, with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Still getting used to all the lingo.”
Everyone laughs politely, but I sit there, sipping my coffee, smug and silent.
I enjoyed that. I enjoyed the way his jaw ticked, the way his knuckles flexed ever so slightly.
When the meeting ends, Matt follows me out the door like a shadow I can’t shake. I barely make it to the elevator when he grabs my arm.
“Addison, can we talk for a second?”
I spin around, sighing like he’s already wasting my time. “Fine. What?”
He gives me that rehearsed smile, the same one that’s won over countless people. “I just get the feeling that there’s tension between us,” he says in the most condescending tone possible. “And since we’re going to be working together, I think—”
“I am working with you,” I cut in. “I’ve been professional. I’ve smiled when I wanted to scream. I haven’t said a word. That is me working with you.”
He blinks. “But—”
“I said I will work with you,” I continue, my voice calm but sharp. “I never said I’d pretend to enjoy it.”
I turn and opt to head down the stairs, leaving the scene before he can turn this into another one of his games. I’d rather blister my feet than share the elevator with him.
I sink down onto the black couch in my office, put my feet up, and scroll for Mom’s name in my phone. I always have to pause before I call her and do some quick math to make sure I’m not calling her at an obscene hour, considering the time difference between New York and London.
FaceTime rings twice before her face fills the screen.
She’s flushed from a workout, brown hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.
Behind her, I can see the Peloton in her home gym, with a pair of sneakers kicked haphazardly on the mat.
She’s sitting on the floor, a water bottle clutched in one hand, the other adjusting her earbuds.
“Hey, kid,” she says, smiling like she hasn’t just finished a twelve-mile ride. “How’s your day going?”
I let out a sigh that feels like it comes from my bones. “Long. I had my normal weekly meeting with Alan, and…” My voice trails off, and I make a face like I’ve smelled curdled milk. “Matt was there.”
Her eyebrows lift, full mom-telepathy activated. “Ah. Matt Dicklock. The snake in a suit.”
“The very one.” I laugh, stretching out my legs. “It’s frustrating because other than him being here, I’m really enjoying the job. I love working with Luke, and seeing Pippa so often has been a lifesaver.”
“And everything else?”
“Well, the owner, Alan, is possibly the friendliest man I’ve ever met in my life. I’m not sure he even realizes he’s as rich as he is. He’s humble and kind. He says hello to every single person who works here, right down to custodial. And it’s all so genuine.”
“That’s good to have in a boss.”
“The team’s great, too. And Oliver is—” I stop myself, realizing too late that I’ve stepped on a conversational landmine. “—also great.”
Mom’s lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “Should I be reading into that?”
“Into what?”
“The team is great. Oliver is great,” she says, mimicking my voice like a teenager doodling hearts in the margin of my notebook.
“No?” I shake my head quickly, too quickly. “Absolutely no reading into it.”
“Uh-huh,” she says in that tone that means she’s reading into it anyway.
“What?”
“You singled him out, Addison.”
“I just meant… he’s great as captain. Leadership. Team stuff. Sports things.”
“Sports things,” she repeats, raising a brow as she bites back a laugh. “So he’s not cute or charming or anything like that?”
“I didn’t say that.” I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “I mean, he’s objectively attractive in a professional way.”
Mom laughs, shaking her head. “In a professional way?”
I peek between my fingers. “It’s just nice having people to rely on,” I say, suddenly fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “Like him. And Luke and Pippa.”
“Mhmm.” She grins. “But especially Oliver.”
I sit up, pointing a finger at her. “Mom. Stop. There’s nothing going on.”
“I never said anything was going on. I just asked if he was cute. You’re the one on the defensive.”
“Mom.”
“But just in case, be careful. Work crushes can be wonderful. But as you know, they can also be a mess.”
“I don’t have a work crush!” I insist. “I have a work appreciation.”
“Right, right.” She laughs, taking pretend notes in the air. “A work appreciation for the professionally attractive captain. Got it.”
I roll my eyes, but she doesn’t stop laughing. Before she can grill me further, I change the subject.
“So, there’s an international break coming up. I thought about flying back to New York to see you and Dad.”
“You could,” she says, “but we’re going to be in Santa Ana that week for a conference. You could meet us out there?”
“Eh,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s a lot of travel for one or two days.”
“What are you going to do instead?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I'll probably just hunker down in the apartment for a few days. Maybe I’ll learn to cook or something.”
She snorts so hard she nearly chokes on the water she’s been sipping. “You? Learn to cook? Honey, please let me know ahead of time so I can alert whatever London fire station you live near.”
“Very funny,” I deadpan, though my mouth twitches. “I am capable of following a recipe.”
“Sure, when it’s baking,” she says, grinning. “But for some reason, cooking is where the wheels come off for you.”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, giggling.
I glance at the clock. “I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes, but I’ll call you again soon.”
“You better,” she says, softening. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Mom.”
“Promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“Don’t let Matt make you retreat into a cave.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t burn down all of England just to avoid getting out and living your life.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
“Good girl,” she says, smiling. “Go knock ’em dead in your meeting.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you more.”
"No matter what," I say, the way we always do.
"No matter what," she echoes.
We hang up, and I stare at my phone for a second before setting it down, wishing she were closer.
I plop down into the chair across from Luke’s desk, exhaling like I just finished a marathon.
Luke ordered lunch for us today—the smell of warm bread and herbed chicken fills the air in his office. He slides my takeaway container toward me and flashes a knowing smirk.
“Let me guess—Matt?”
I groan and lean back in the chair dramatically. “Luke, he’s literally everywhere. He’s like a fucking boomerang. The only place I can escape him and the cameras is the fucking bathroom.”
Luke barks out a laugh, unwrapping his sandwich. “I told you I hated that prick.”
I roll my eyes. “I know. Can we not do that routine again? I realize he was a mistake, okay?”
“Sorry, Ads.” He takes a bite of his sandwich and smiles. “At least you’ve got Oliver on your side. He looks like he might set Matt on fire with just a stare.”
I practically choke on a bite of chicken. “What? Oh, no. No. He doesn’t—what? No.” I clear my throat. I’m fucking spiraling. Get it together, Addison. “He doesn’t like journalists and cameras and all that. That’s just Oliver.”
Luke raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
“It is,” I insist.
“Well, we do have that international break coming up,” Luke says after a beat, changing the subject. “That should get you a bit of a rest.”
“What are you and Pippa up to?” I ask, hoping I can at least hang at their place for the weekend.
“We’re headed down to her parents’ place in Devon. You’re welcome to come if you want, Ads.”
“Oh, no,” I say, waving the idea off. “You guys need to enjoy your time together without me being a third wheel. I’m just jealous. You all get to take off for the weekend, and I’ll be stuck in the city with him.”
Luke tilts his head at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”
“No, it’s cool,” I cut in. “Honestly. I’ll be okay.”
“You could leave too, Ads.”
“And go where?” I ask, like his idea is ridiculous. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just barricade myself in my apartment, order nothing but takeout, and watch documentaries all weekend. It’ll be grand.”
Luke snorts. “That sounds healthy.”
I shrug. “It’s survival.”