Play On: A Soccer Romantic Comedy (Stonebridge United Book 1)

Chapter One

Cupid

It’s my last night with Noah.

We’re all sitting in the garden here at my family home, Wintersmith Hall, in Dorset. It’s a beautiful Saturday evening in June and we’re gathered around the firepit, drinking, talking rubbish, and winding down the weekend. Tomorrow, my friends will go home. I’ll say goodbye to Colin. To Bella and Camden.

And to Noah Darby.

My gaze travels across the garden to find him. Noah is talking with Colin Bennick and my twin, Nicholas. Nicholas hands him a bottle of wine, and Noah looks across the lawn towards me, causing my stomach to flip upside down in excitement.

“Violet, is syrah okay? The cab is finished,” Noah calls out.

“That’s fine,” I answer.

I watch as he pours it into a plastic cup for me. I take in everything about him that is illuminated by the flickering flames from the fire. I feel my throat grow dry as I study the curve of his full mouth and how it’s drawing up into a smile. I take in his dark brown hair and espresso-coloured eyes, and the way his five o’clock shadow is shading his jawline. He’s wearing a T-shirt, and grey ink covers both his arms with lifelike 3D tattoos of Greek gods that travel from his wrists and disappear under his shirtsleeves.

I recognised his tattoos instantly when he sat next to me today at the beach, and I was fascinated with his choice of having Achilles on one arm and Apollo on the other. We talked about mythology, and how his love of it led to his decision to use the Greek gods for his tattoos.

It’s something I want to know more about.

Along with a thousand other things.

I hear his deep laugh float across the garden, sending goosebumps sweeping over my skin. How did I not notice him when I first met him at Wisteria House in the spring? I didn’t see anything other than a good-looking man who played football. Of course, I noticed he was gorgeous, I’m not blind.

But he was quiet and didn’t say much, so I really didn’t give him a second thought.

There’s a shyness to him, despite the fact that he’s a major celebrity. But when Noah jumped into the conversation last night—talking about the sweets he liked to get when going to the cinema—it was like someone threw a brick that hit me right in the head. This sexy footballer got me. He could talk to me about the pick and mix at the cinema, and it was as if my blinders were taken off and I was seeing this man for the first time.

When I shared how my dream date was someone who would get the pick and mix with me when seeing a film, he said a man wasn’t worth knowing if he didn’t pick up a stretchy snake or milk teeth.

I swear to God, it was as if Cupid struck an arrow to my heart.

That’s exactly the kind of goofy playfulness I’ve been looking for in a man, but never found.

Until last night.

Noah comes back towards me, and I try to ignore how my heart is practically skipping at the prospect of spending more time with him.

He hands me my cup of wine. “For you.”

“Thank you,” I say.

Noah reaches up and runs a hand through his dark brown locks. “Would you want to show me more of the gardens? We could continue talking with a change of scenery.”

Oh my God. He wants to be alone with me.

My instinct to leap up out of the chair and yell “YES!” is quelled by the fact that I don’t want to send him running into the gardens to escape the crazy redhead who is WAY too eager and has ZERO game.

“I’d love to. In fact, I have something to show you that you might find interesting,” I say.

I rise from my chair, ignore the way my twin is smirking at me, and walk away from the group with Noah by my side.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m taking you away from everyone,” he says, his voice quiet. “I’d just like the chance to spend some time alone with you before I head home tomorrow.”

The crickets and frogs serenade us from all directions, and because we’re in the country, a million stars dazzle overhead like diamonds in the velvety black sky.

“Where is home in the off-season?” I ask. I let my fingers trail along the boxwoods as we walk, and I can hear the fountain bubbling as we draw closer to it.

“During the season I live in Surrey, but when I’m in London, I stay in a hotel if I plan to stay out late.”

“Where your family is from?”

Noah falls silent for a moment. “My mum lives in Kent. My dad passed away when I was sixteen.”

“Oh, Noah, I’m so sorry,” I say, hating that I stumbled onto that subject so early on in getting to know him. “That had to be so hard at such a young age.”

“It’s all right.”

And that’s all he says.

My talkative brain—I’m always talking, so much so that I know a lot of people can’t handle it and discreetly end conversations with me—suddenly goes blank, failing me as to how to move out of the bear trap I’ve just stumbled into with Noah.

“Your parents seem nice,” he says, throwing me a life ring.

“They are. I’m lucky. Nicholas and I are close, too.”

“I have an older brother, but we aren’t close,” Noah confesses. “We’re very different people. Like we wouldn’t choose each other as friends, if that makes sense.”

“I think that’s the magnificent thing about friendships,” I say as we head closer to the spot I want to show him. “With friends, we’re inviting people into our lives, to share them, and that’s a powerful thing. We can choose our family in that sense.”

I can feel his gaze upon me, regarding what I just said. “That’s a brilliant way to look at it.”

I beam in response to his compliment. “Thank you.”

We round another corner and find ourselves in front of the Cupid water fountain. I stop walking, and Noah comes to a halt beside me.

“Because of our conversation about mythology at the beach, I thought you might appreciate seeing the god of love.”

“I still can’t believe you’re into mythology. I’ve never met anyone else who is.”

I nod. “Yes. I love that mythology has served as so much inspiration for artists. One of my favourite paintings is The Judgement of Paris by Van Balen. The use of colour is so beautiful in it. Have you seen it?”

“I haven’t seen much art, I’m afraid,” Noah says.

“I’m sorry. I studied art history at St. Andrews, so I can go on for hours about it. You should see me go around the house talking about the paintings and sculptures. I can drive anybody mad with it.”

“Why would that drive someone mad?”

I chuckle as I walk over to the stone bench in front of the fountain. I take a seat, and Noah sits down beside me. His muscular thigh brushes against mine, sending a rush of electricity through me from the sensation.

“Noah. I’m sure it’s come to your attention that I talk. A lot,” I emphasise. “Many people find me overwhelming. Then you throw in something I love—like art—and I can drive even the most patient person to insanity.”

“Well, that’s rubbish.”

I blink. The moonlight is dancing across his face, and he’s so beautiful, I find myself losing my breath.

“You’re interesting, Violet. You take the pressure off people who are shy or don’t feel comfortable leading a conversation.”

“Is that you?” I ask quietly.

He flashes me a gentle smile. “You tell me.”

Warmth pools in my cheeks. “You’re on the quiet side, so I’d say yes.”

Now Noah flashes me a grin. “I am. I’ve always been a bit shy with new people. I always observe first. I like to get a feel for people before I try to get to know them.”

“You’re cautious.”

He furrows his brow, as if he’s never considered that idea before. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“That’s not a bad thing to be, you know.”

“It’s served me well so far. Except for that night I met you at Wisteria House.”

I stare at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

A gentle summer breeze blows across us, carrying the scent of his cologne towards me. It’s like a combination of a freshly opened bar of exquisite luxury soap and sliced citrus fruit.

It’s utterly captivating.

“I wanted to talk to you at Wisteria House,” Noah says softly. “But I didn’t move fast enough. You were gone before I could think of something to say.”

I stare at him in amazement. “Really?”

“If I admit to something, will you promise not to judge me for it?”

I nod.

“The second you walked into the bar, I noticed you. You’re gorgeous, Violet.”

An excited, tingling feeling sweeps over me.

“I know that’s superficial, and I should never have admitted it to you, but it’s true,” Noah continues. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. But I wasn’t sure what to say and I didn’t want you to think I was merely putting a move on you. The moment didn’t feel right. But last night, when you started talking about pick and mix and wanting a man who would enjoy that kind of thing, you completely drew me in. There’s a playfulness about you that I like. I knew the moment was right.”

My pulse is racing now. I decide to confess something to him, too.

“When you told me you liked snakes and milk teeth, it was like I saw you for the first time. I’ve never met a man who didn’t act like I was weird for putting gummy teeth in my mouth or saying pink mice were infinitely better than white.”

“You weren’t meeting quality men,” Noah says, his eyes dancing at me.

“No, I wasn’t. I knew I wanted to get to know you as soon as you said that.”

“That’s when I knew my instincts were right about you. You weren’t impressed that I was a footballer. You cared more that I liked gummy snakes and milk teeth.”

I burst out laughing. “I bet you never thought you’d say that sentence in your lifetime.”

Noah considers it. “To be honest? No.”

We both laugh at that.

“Violet?”

His soft-spoken voice is like a warm caress to me. I don’t get tired of hearing it.

“Yes?”

“I really like that you don’t care that I play football. I know you spent time with me today because of me.”

“Oh God, I’m not a football fan,” I admit breezily. “Nicholas is into that. I’m always annoyed when it’s on.”

The most beautiful smile lights up his face.

“So you don’t have to worry about me chasing after you because you’re a footballer,” I assure him.

“What would make you chase after me?”

Ooh! I have to rise to the challenge of this flirty comment.

“You can’t say pick and mix, we’ve already talked about that,” Noah continues.

I smile at him. “I have more than pick and mix as a point of interest.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“Your Greek mythology tattoos,” I say easily. “Your ink tells me a lot of your story.”

Noah looks surprised by this observation. “What does that tell you about me?”

“You choose Achilles for one sleeve,” I say. “The greatest warrior with a weakness. On the other sleeve you have Apollo, who is the god of music, poetry, archery, and light. Knowledge, too. I know you like mythology, so these are thoughtful tattoos. You didn’t just choose them because they looked good.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“So both of these represent qualities that are important to you, I’m guessing. You didn’t choose these lightly. They show what matters to you and your intelligence. I find that incredibly attractive.”

“I chose both for football. Achilles to remind me to think,” Noah confesses. “You can be a great warrior and still have a weakness. That tattoo reminds me to acknowledge my weaknesses and work on them. Apollo is my reminder to be creative with my game. It also represents inspiration, and that is for me to be inspired every time I take the pitch to give it my everything. To use my football knowledge to be the best that I can be.”

Yes, I was right. The reasoning behind his ink is almost hotter than the ink itself.

“There are more points of interest,” I say. “You listen to me when I talk. Not fake listen, but actually listen. You don’t get the glazed-over look some people get because I talk too much. I know I do, it’s a bad habit, but I have so many things in my brain that I want to say and talking to people is interesting. You never once gave me the look.”

“The look?”

I nod. “Yes. The ‘I’m really overwhelmed by the amount of talking you’re doing, where is the exit?’ look.”

“I’d be an idiot if I gave you that look. You’re fascinating. I love the way you have all these things to share. And I love the way your blue eyes light up when you get excited talking about them.”

My heart leaps again. No man has ever viewed me in this light.

“You’re smart,” I continue. “Considerate. Fun.”

“Fun,” he repeats.

I wrinkle my nose. “You act like nobody has ever called you fun before.”

“I’m serious. I’ve always been serious. On the pitch. About my game. Even in my downtime, playing video games or drinking a couple of beers is about as wild as I get.”

“You want to hear my wild times?” I say, pausing to take a sip of my wine.

“I do.”

“Okay, but it is incredibly weird. Weirder than the pick and mix.”

Noah nods.

“You know that Connectivity feature that lets you post and answer questions? Connect QA?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I love to go on and see if there is a question I can answer.”

A brilliant smile lights up Noah’s face. “I can see that.”

“I can’t explain why I find it fun, but it’s nice to be considered knowledgeable about something.”

Noah’s eyes lock on mine. “You don’t feel that people see you that way, do you?”

“What?” I ask, surprised.

“As someone knowledgeable. The way you answered revealed a lot about how you feel.”

I suck in a breath. How did he catch on to that? Will he see that my own fears are keeping me floundering around Dorset, too?

And would a successful, driven man like Noah Darby find me unexciting after discovering that fact?

I decide to be braver than I feel and put it out there.

“Nicholas calls me a butterfly,” I say slowly. “Flittering from one activity to the next. But the truth is, I have a fear of failing, and when I think I might fail, I move on. There. I said it. I won’t blame you if you want to run back to the house and say we’ll be excellent friends.”

“Christ, why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I have been privileged because I figured out I was very good at football when I was a little boy. It’s been my life, and I love it. I know I want to work in it long after I hang up my boots, too. But do you realise how much luck played into that? What if my dad had signed me up for swimming? Rugby? I’d be like any other person our age trying to sort it out.”

Comfort. Pure comfort surges through me from hearing Noah’s perspective. Maybe my fears are part of me figuring out what I’m supposed to do. That it doesn’t have to be a bad thing, but something I need to go through to sort myself out.

“Nobody has ever presented it like that to me before,” I say. “Thank you.”

We both fall silent for a moment, shifting our gaze to Cupid and letting the frogs and water fountain provide the background noise as we reflect on our conversation.

“This is why I would chase after you, Noah Darby,” I say, breaking the silence. “To have a conversation like this with you. But there’s more.”

I turn to face him, only to find he’s already staring at me. “It’s physical, too. I would be a liar if I said it wasn’t. When you touched me on the beach—” I break off, growing hot from the memory, and Lord, never have I been so up front with a man in my life. “When you touched me, when your hand was on my back rubbing in that sun cream, the way your fingers grazed the straps of my bikini—I felt it. That it factor I’ve always heard about, that chemistry and butterflies and all those things, simply because your hand touched my skin. Your hand. Nobody else’s.”

My heart is now pounding in my ears. Noah stares at me, his full lips slightly parted in surprise.

“See? I talk too much.”

“No.”

His hand slowly lifts off his leg, and to my complete shock, it moves to the back of my T-shirt. Noah carefully slides his hand underneath it, using the same caressing motions he did earlier, but without the sun cream. I shiver wildly in response to his warm hand against my bare skin, and I’m finding it hard to breathe.

“I liked touching you, too,” he murmurs.

Oh. Dear. God.

I lick my lips, giving him an invitation to kiss me.

But he doesn’t. His fingertips travel up around my bra straps, lightly edging underneath them and setting every nerve I have on fire.

“I have to go back to Surrey tomorrow,” he says, his voice low.

“I know,” I manage to respond as he continues this sensual exploration of my skin.

“I want to see you again.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want that, too.”

He dips his head closer. I swear to God, I’ve never been so desperate for a kiss in all my life.

“I’m not going to kiss you tonight, because I have a feeling if I do, I won’t stop,” he says huskily.

MY GOD THIS MAN.

“Violet, I don’t play games, but I don’t think you do, either. So I’m asking you right now if you will see me again. Go out on a date.”

Noah Darby has no idea how hot he is right now. None.

“I want that.”

MORE THAN YOU KNOW.

A smile lights up his face. “Next Friday? I would ask for this Friday, but I’m going on one of my rare visits to Kent to see my mum.”

“That actually works perfectly. We’re having a huge plant sale here this Saturday, and it will be all-hands-on-deck to get ready for it on Friday.” I smile at him. “Do you want me to come to Surrey? London? Do you want to come back here? Meet in the middle?”

He laughs, and I relish the sound of it. “I think you left off fly to Vegas.”

I grin at him. “What, are you suggesting we drunk marry in Vegas?”

“That’s illegal to do.”

“Do I want to know how you know what is legal in Las Vegas?”

His hand travels down to the small of my back, rubbing it slowly and gently.

“I think I saw it on a Connect QA,” he teases.

“Shut up,” I say, smiling at him.

“But to answer your question,” Noah says, “I’ll plan it and let you know when I’ll be picking you up.”

Ooh, this is exciting!

“I’d love that.”

“Good. Because you’re amazing, Violet. And I promise you, I’m going to give you the first date you deserve.”