Chapter 25
Calla
Ifollow Blake onto a large stretch of lush green field, noticing the goal posts already set up, the white markings on the floor painted with precision.
A handful of men are already kicking about a half-deflated ball, each of them sporting a bright red jersey with a different number splayed across their back.
“Blake!” one shouts, waving us over when they notice us.
“Boys.” Blake grins. “I bought someone I’d like you to meet.”
Five faces, none of which I recognise, peer at me.
“This is Calla.”
I raise a hand in a silent wave.
“We heard Millen finally bagged himself a lass,” says a redhead man sporting a large number nine of his back. The lilt of his Scottish brogue still colours his thick accent. “Nice to meet ye.”
“Yeah, we’re happy for ya, mate.” Another man pats Blake on the back. “But I know a few women who aren’t going to be.”
His joke earns a round of chuckles from the other boys, but I pay them no heed. I’m not surprised. Blake’s the total package; kind, patient, funny, attractive. He even knows how to cook and how to clean up after himself. He’s the kind of man women dream about and he’s mine.
All mine.
“Very funny,” Blake replies dryly, draping his arm over my shoulders and pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “Ignore these idiots, sunshine. They think themselves comedians. I wouldn’t quit your day job, boys. Not if I were you.”
I huff out a laugh at that. “Where did you all meet?”
“Uni,” number four answers with a cheeky grin.
We stand chatting for a short time, mainly making small talk while the summer breeze blows through the blades of grass at our feet.
“I’m gonna go and get the cones we need for our warmup,” Blake eventually whispers into my ear. “Wanna come with?”
I nod, pressing my lips to his and ignoring the wolf whistles directed our way.
“We’re gonna go get the cones and…” Blake peers at the deflated football. “The pump, as well, before the match starts”
“No funny business in the shed, you two!”
Blake rolls his eyes playfully, cuffing his old school friend around the head before he grabs my hand, dragging me away.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye as we walk towards a small, rundown shack, a smirk dancing about my lips. “So, you’ve got yourself some admirers, hm?”
Blake simply shakes his head.
“You should’ve told me. I would have bought my boxing gloves, so I could fend them off.”
“You own a pair of boxing gloves?”
“No, but—”
Blake grins, ushering me towards a run-down looking shed, it’s once duck egg blue paint peeling, patches flaking.
He jambs his thumb into the keypad on the side, pulling the creaking wooden door open for me when it unlocks.
It’s so dark I can hardly see my own hand in front of my face, relying on the grip of Blake’s palm on my hip to guide me.
“Mind your head, sunshine. There should be a string in front of you, give it a yank.”
I do as he asks, plunging us into a jarring amber orange light.
It flickers, threatening to give out, but it gives me glimpse of the old shelves, packed to the rafters with old gym equipment, skipping ropes, punctured footballs, and half strung tennis rackets.
Flinching at the large spider scrambling about its web between two empty first aid kits, I watch Blake grab an armful of bright blue cones, a football pump and silver whistle threaded onto a black rope.
I toy with the idea of pressing Blake up against one of the shelves. I wonder if he’s ever bought a girl here before? An ex-girlfriend perhaps? Or one of the other women I saw standing about outside?
But then the spider moves, and I throw my idea out of the door. Literally.
Yelping, I scurry away, back into summer sun, ignoring Blake’s amused laugh. “I’ll just wait for you out here.”
“I won’t be a minute!”
Already, I’m beginning to feel warm. The summer sun blazing down, baking the grass until it crunches under my trainer clad feet.
What I wouldn’t do for a drink of water right now.
Shoving my sunglass back onto my face, I glance back over to the football pitch.
The boys are still kicking about the football, showing off to one another, but the group of parents seems to have grown.
Six camping chairs already line the edge of the pitch, and somebody has even set up a makeshift table, although from here I can’t quite make out what they have atop of it.
“Could you get the door?” Blake returns, arms full.
I pull it closed, wiping the slivers of paint that flake off in my hands on the front of my jean shorts.
“How many people are you expecting?” I ask, nodding to the growing group, some of which, I notice, are watching us walk towards them.
“It’s eleven a side, plus wives and girlfriends… like yourself.”
I like the sound of that.
We meander back to the pitch, gaining even more sets of intrigued eyes.
“Grab yourself a drink and bite to eat if you want.” Blake tips his chin to the makeshift table surrounded by chattering women, some of which have babies and toddlers balanced on their hips.
I can just make out the water, juice and bowls of fruit covering the tabletop.
“I’m just gonna re-inflate the football. ”
Pecking a kiss to his lips, I flounce off, sliding into a free space to grab a bottle of water. I crack it open, taking a swig and ignoring the hushed chatter and side eye glances aimed my way.
I’m glad for the distraction of a large car pulling up, another handful of men, these ones wearing blue jerseys, piling out onto the field.
Grabbing an orange slice, I take a seat on the grass, just beside the sidelines, my eyes fixed firmly on Blake. The veins in his bare forearms bulge as he pushes the plunger, pumping air into the football before pulling the plunger back out and restarting.
Who knew something so simple could be so hot?
“He’s so fit,” I hear a willowy brunette, standing not too far away from me, gush. I know she’s spoken her words aloud for me to hear, when we clock eyes, her swollen filler-full lips twisting into a smirk.
I simply smile back, wide and toothy, because don’t I know it.
That thought stays front and centre as I watch Blake bend to place the colourful cones onto the field in a row, each an equal distance away from one another.
I have no clue what they’re for, but I don’t draw my eyes away, nonetheless, watching as Blake and his friends begin to run, zigzagging in-between the cones.
“It’s Calla, right?”
I peer up at the sound of my name, finding two young women, both not much older than myself, staring down at me. The blonde repositions her grip on the baby carrier in her arms, a soft smile playing about her lips
I nod wordlessly.
“Can we sit?” continues the redhead, gesturing to a space beside me on the grass.
Again, I nod, watching her unfold a soft blanket out onto the grass before they sit.
“I’m Lola.”
“I’m May.” Smiles the blonde. “And this little one,” she runs the back of her finger down her baby’s cheek, “is Charlotte.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“We thought we’d just come and introduce ourselves.
” She smiles so warmly it’s impossible not to smile back at her.
“Sometimes the other women here can get a little… bitchy. I know they were the first time Liam bought me, so we just wanted you to have a friendly face. I promise, we’re not all into gossiping behind one another’s back like that. ”
“That’s good to know.” I lick my lips. “I suppose you already know I’m here with Blake?”
May nods. “The group chat rumour mill was already spinning before you even got here.”
I grimace.
“Don’t worry,” May reaches over to squeeze my shoulder, “it’s just because you’re new. Tomorrow you’ll be old hat.”
I cross my fingers. “Here’s hoping.”
“It will.” Lola nods. “Plus, Blake’s a good guy. If worse comes to worse, he’ll put a stop to it.”
With the sun beating down upon us, May, Lola and I lapse into an easy flowing conversation; the three of us trading titbits of information about one another in between watching our men warm up on the pitch.
“God.” Lola fans herself with her hand, her eyes firmly centred on her boyfriend, Charlie, the one with the thick Scottish accent. “I forgot how much these games make me hor—shit, cover your ears, baby Charlotte.”
May laughs brightly, leaning into the carrier and pretending to cover baby Charlotte’s tiny ears.
I can’t help but giggle.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I can’t.”
I shake my head, mouth dry, peering over at Blake and the rest of his team. They’ve moved from running between the cones to stretching out their legs, lunging and jumping, bending over to touch their toes.
“We’ve got ourselves a front seat, ladies.”
May hums her agreement, unbuckling baby Charlotte and balancing her on her knee while she fiddles with her floppy sun hat.
I watch Charlotte gaze up at her mother for a heartbeat, before she squeaks, her chubby hand grabbing the brim of her hat and ripping it from her head.
I’m guessing this must be a regular occurrence, by the way May hardly bats an eyelid, instead placing the hat back on her baby’s head.
“How do you think I got Charlotte in the first place?” she wonders out loud, earning a laugh from both Lola and I. “They know exactly what they’re doing.”
I think May’s right, what with the way our men are glancing over at our little group, smirking. Baby Charlotte squawks at the sight of her dad waving at her, her gummy smile the cutest thing I’ve seen in a while.
“Can I hold her?”
May all but dumps the small weight in my arms, blowing out a breath that dislodges her blonde fringe. “Sure. You can put her on the blanket if your arms get tired.”
I snuggle baby Charlotte into my chest, feeling the small warmth, solidness of her body against mine, inhaling the sweet scent of something distinctly baby and the suncream slathered on her arms.
Lola grins, chucking the baby under her chin. “You’re a natural.”
Warm up finished, I see the boys split into two teams – red and blue – while the referee tosses a coin to determine who gets the ball first.
I wave when I spot Blake looking at me, watching as he jogs over and presses a sweet kiss to my lips.
“You suit holding a baby.”
I huff out a giggle, placing my free palm into the centre of his chest and giving him a playful shove. “Good luck out there.”
He winks, causing my core to clench. “Thanks, sunshine.”
The first half of the match flies over in the blink of an eye.
Most of the men stay on the pitch, stood in huddles, while May, Lola and I, with baby Charlotte happily babbling away on her mother’s hip, cross the field to grab an ice cream from the idling van.
I catch Blake watching me a handful of times, his eyes narrowing with every lapping lick of my tongue against my ice cream.
“You’re going to be in so much trouble when you get home,” Lola remarks with a giggle, flicking her gaze between Blake and I.
I pop my shoulders while I trace the tip of my tongue around the sugar rim of my ice cream cone.
“I have no clue what you’re on about.”
May and Lola laugh loudly which draws a few stares from the other wives and girlfriends dotted about the pitch, but I pay them no heed.
The sun beats down, browning the tops of my arms slightly and causing a thin layer of sweat to build at the nape of my neck, as the second half of the match begins.
I’m up on my feet and cheering with the girls when Liam, May’s husband, scores a goal for our team, quickly followed by Blake himself.
When the referee eventually blows his whistle, eliciting a sharp sound, to signal the end of the match, I launch myself across the pitch and into Blake’s awaiting arms. He picks me up with ease, allowing me to wrap my legs around his hips, twining my ankles at the base of his spine.
I peck him on the lips, before I lay a trail of quick kisses along his sharp jawline, unbothered by the sweat dripping from him.
“I take it you enjoyed watching the match, then?” Blake asks with a grin, gently placing me back onto the grass.
I nod, tucking myself beneath his arm. It’s crazy how normal it feels, us being together.
“What was your favourite part?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Watching you stretch with the team. Or maybe this whole get-up you’ve got going on.” I gesture to his socks, showing off his lean calves, his short shorts which are crawling up his muscular thighs and the thin material of his red shirt, sticking to his abs.
Blake hums happily, smoothing the hair back from my forehead and dropping a kiss there.
“You coming, Millen?!” one of the boys’ shouts, waving the two of us over. Already, I can see a few of the men piling into cars.
“Where are they off to?”
“We usually go to the pub after the match. Win or lose; it’s become a bit of a tradition. But if you want to come with, you can.”
I eye Blake out of the corner. “Do the wives and girlfriends usually go?”
“No, but—”
“It’s okay.” I grin, giving his waist a quick squeeze. “I don’t mind. Seriously. Go have some time with your friends and then come back to my place. I’ve got something in mind I’d like to give you for winning today.”
“Something you’d like to give me, hm? Any hints?”
“It involves me being on my knees.” I smirk. “Or on the bed. I don’t really mind. Winner’s choice.”
“Millen!”
Blake ignores his friend, instead capturing his lips with mine as we stop dead beside the car park. “Winner’s choice, indeed. I won’t be long, okay?”
“Promise?”
“Promise, sunshine.”