the high line
WONDERWALL BY OASIS
The back room at The Black Swan is absolutely buzzing.
The entire squad is here, even a lot of the training staff and physios, and most are at least two drinks deep already.
The music is loud, just enough to feel it thumping in your chest without giving you a headache. It’s a good vibe. We earned it.
I’m still on my first beer. Not because I’m not in the mood, but I’m pacing myself just in case she shows up.
I’m leaning up against a high top in the corner, laughing while old man Brennan tries to prove he can still hang with the younger lads.
My eyes keep dragging toward the entrance like it’s a magnet. Like I could will her into existence.
And there she is.
Addison steps into the back room like she’s moving in slow motion.
Dressed in all black, she looks sharp, dangerous, and completely fucking breathtaking.
Black pants that cling to her body like they were painted directly onto her skin, a fitted tank that makes my mouth go dry even with a beer in my hand, and those little heeled boots that click on the ground like they own it.
And her hair is down—literally and figuratively.
She spots me instantly and strides over with an ease that makes my body tighten like it’s bracing for impact.
“Hello, Captain,” she says, her voice flirty and bold.
I can’t help but smile. “You made it.”
“You said to think about it,” she says, smirking. “I decided I’d earned a drink.”
A server appears beside her with a notepad. “Can I get you anything?”
Addison turns and faces her. “Gin and tonic, please.”
Addison reaches into her pocket to pull out a card, but I grab her hand. “No need. Team already set up a tab.”
“Oh, did they?” she asks, brow lifting.
“Well, we drew straws, sort of. Sebastian and I got a pass for scoring, and Haz for the clean sheet. Brennan drew the short straw.” I point over to Brennan slamming a shot of tequila with Carlos like it’s his last night alive.
“It’s all on his card. His missus is gonna be cheesed off when she sees that. "
Addison tilts her head back and laughs—full and unguarded.
The gin and tonic arrives, and we both go quiet for a beat.
“I’m really glad you came,” I say.
Her eyebrow arches. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, I—”
“Cap!” Sebastian slides in between us. “Both of you. Dance floor. Let’s go.”
“Nope.” I shake my head immediately. “I don’t dance.”
“Come on,” Sebastian says. “For the team.”
Addison looks at me like she’s searching for a reason to stay right where she is. But then she smiles and tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“Watch my drink,” she says with a wink, placing her glass in my hand and letting her fingers linger over mine just a second too long. She turns and disappears with Sebastian into the mess of bodies on the dance floor.
And all I can do is stand here, drink in hand, and watch her.
She’s not even trying to be sexy, but goddamn it, she is. She’s laughing with Sebastian as Carlos spins her. Her hips sway to the music, like it all comes naturally to her.
Even though nothing has happened, and we haven’t even kissed—hell, any time we’ve come close one of us retracts—something in me tightens when I watch Carlos’ hand skim too low or Sebastian pull her a little too close.
I know they’re just having fun. Still makes me want to burn the entire bar down.
Luke winks at me from across the bar. It’s a knowing wink, like he’s aware there’s something between us, but it’s a warning, pleading with me not to hurt her.
The song ends, and Addison shimmies past Sebastian and comes back to me, a little breathless and flushed, but lighter and free.
She stops in front of me and holds her hands out. “Come on.”
I arch a brow. “I don’t dance.”
“Captain,” she says, stepping closer with a teasing grin tugging at her lips. “The team needs you.”
“I can manage them from here.”
“Please?” she says, drawing the word out like she knows it’ll kill me. Then she pulls out the big guns—those soft, blue, baby deer eyes that should be illegal. “For me?”
And there it is. The one thing I can’t say no to.
I’m doomed.
I down the rest of my drink like I’m about to head into battle and take her hand. She pulls me onto the floor just as the next song starts. A familiar rhythm that gets everyone jumping right off the bat.
It’s chaos. Everyone is jumping, and Addison drags me straight into the middle of it, her hand tight around mine like she knows I need the anchor.
Suddenly the whole bar is screaming it. “I get knocked down, but I get up again. You’re never gonna keep me down!” Addison tips her head back and laughs while Brennan is dancing like everyone’s drunk, deranged uncle at a wedding.
She wraps an arm around my neck and shout-sings the next verse of the song into my ear. I belt it back to her and slip an arm around her waist, both of us out of breath and bouncing like idiots.
She pulls back and jumps into Carlos’ arms for the chorus. At first, I feel that pit of jealousy again, but then she locks eyes with me from across the mass of people, and I realize she’s doing it to make sure no one thinks she’s favoring me or that there’s something going on.
By the final “I get knocked down,” she’s scream-laughing it right in my face, and I swear I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more in my entire life.
Because she looks so damn happy.
And she’s in my arms.
Suddenly Carlos is up on the stage with a microphone in hand. Addison’s body stiffens like this is about to be an issue she has to handle.
“Hey,” I whisper in her ear. “It’s a team event. Let him be an idiot. No PR tonight.”
“Listen up!” Carlos yells into the microphone. “Karaoke time!”
“Oh no,” I groan, though most of the lads seem delighted.
Luke stumbles up onto the stage first, red-faced and four drinks deep. Two of his assistant physios line up behind him while he grabs a microphone. “This one’s for my favorite Yank, Addison!”
Addison, still catching her breath from dancing, immediately bursts out laughing. “What the fuck is he—”
The beat drops, and Luke grins. “I hopped off the plane at L.A.X….”
The entire bar explodes into laughter as Luke and his team fully commit to “Party in the USA,” complete with a dance move that vaguely resembles twerking but should be illegal.
Addison has tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. She sways to the song but pulls her phone out and starts recording.
“What’s that for?” I ask, leaning in toward her.
“For posterity,” she says, still laughing. “And evidence for his wife.”
Luke’s performance is hysterical, but I can’t stop smiling watching her. She’s so full of pure, unfiltered joy.
After that, it’s an endless cycle of players jumping on stage to perform. The rookies all get up and do some One Direction song.
After that, Carlos grabs the mic and performs a wildly off-key rendition of “Livin’ la Vida Loca,” complete with pelvic thrusts and a stage dive that has me yelling at him not to hurt himself for the season.
Then Sebastian, with his never-ending flair for drama, walks slowly to the stage like he’s entering a title fight.
He closes his eyes, clutches the microphone to his chest like it’s a long-lost lover, and belts out “My Heart Will Go On” like he’s on stage in Vegas.
Brennan is practically wheezing laughing, especially as Sebastian goes full Titanic mode and recreates the flying scene with Carlos in his arms. Harry stands to the side of the stage playing an imaginary penny whistle.
Addison doubles over, laughing. “This is amazing,” she gasps. She pulls out her phone again and flicks the flashlight on, creating the effect of a lighter, and sways back and forth. The team follows, and Carlos pretends to sob while Sebastian drops to his knees on the bridge.
And I’m just watching her. The way she laughs, the way she clutches my arm like she might fall over from giggling too much.
As the song wanes, Sebastian dramatically lets Carlos’ hand go. “I’ll never let go, Carlos. I’ll never let go,” he whispers into the microphone.
“Addison!” Luke yells, still crying from laughter. “Your turn!”
She’s laughing, but shaking her head and frantically waving her arms no. Her face turns red but the lads aren’t backing down. They start chanting her name, and she turns to me like she wants my help.
I hit her with the same move she used on me earlier—my best puppy dog eyes. I tilt my head a little, just for an added flair. “Please?” I say softly. “For me?”
Her eyes narrow, like she knows exactly what I’m doing. “Touché, Captain.” She sighs, muttering something, and heads toward the stage. The lads cheer as she takes the microphone.
“Alright, alright,” she says, turning toward us. “Thanks for the peer pressure, guys. Appreciate it.” She pauses for a moment, like she’s thinking about her song choice. “Well, I’ve been having a very nice time here in London, so let’s go with a British singer, shall we?"
Her eyes flick to mine and hold. My chest tightens before she even opens her mouth.
But then the opening chords of “Make You Feel My Love” flow through the speakers and she starts singing.
And it isn’t like someone goofy or drunk performing for a laugh. Addison sings like she’s offering a piece of herself with every note. Her voice is full, rich, and makes me ache in every corner of my body I’ve ignored.
Everyone quiets when all the lads realize Addison can actually sing—like something real cutting through the noise of the bar. She sings with her eyes closed, one hand held against her stomach like it’s keeping her steady, like she feels every word of the song deep in her bones.
But when she hits the chorus, her gaze lifts, and her eyes find mine.
And I’m gone.
Fucking gone.