7. Wiley
SEVEN
Wiley
“Oh, my god. You dirty bitch. I fucking love it.”
Laughing at the shocked awe on Ines’s face after I finish telling her what happened with Asher. I have to admit I am kinda proud of myself for taking the bull by the horns—or the winger by the anaconda as it were—and asking for what I want. Asher is…different. I like who I am when we talk. Yes, he says I’m sexy and beautiful instead of cute now, but it’s not everything about us. Despite being interrupted by his cousin last night, instead of continuing what we started, we began watching Game of Thrones —cannot believe he’s never watched it.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Ines asks, holding up a Dingoes jersey.
“Yes, I want to do this. Can you please just support me in this?” Taking the jersey from her hands, I hold it up against my chest to make sure it will fit over the girls.
“No, no, I support you, always. It’s just, you’ve been a Rays supporter since I’ve known you and that’s a long time, honey,” she says, leaning on a rack at the sports store.
“Then you know I never jump into things lightly.” I wave away her concern, heading across to the customisation lab.
“I agree, but you also never jump into anything after only a week, Wiley. This is quick, even by my standards.” I get it, she’s worried for me, because it is quick. However, I’m not sure how to make her understand.
“I guess when you know, you know,” I counter, filling out the form to have my jersey personalised.
“I guess so,” she smiles, placing a soft hand on my shoulder. “Please be careful. This thing here,” she places her other hand over my heart. “It’s fragile as fuck and I don’t fancy a stint in jail if I have to take cute boy out for breaking it.”
“I love you. You know that, right?” If I didn’t have Ines, my life would be a shambles.
She was the one who told me I could be whatever I wanted when my parents kicked me out of the house for not wanting to go to uni to follow in their footsteps. The life of an accountant isn’t my idea of fun, no matter how exciting my parents think it is. Numbers are like a foreign language to me, but I could never make them understand that.
“I know that, honey,” she acknowledges, pulling me into a crushing hug. “I love you too. Just…make sure he’s the one before you jump in with both feet.”
I don’t disagree with her, but I think it’s too late. I’m already all in. Both feet and everything in between. This love at first sight thing is some crazy roller coaster.
Ines and I chat quietly as the guy behind the counter takes my jersey to make the alterations when a message notification pops up on my phone. Swiping it open, I inhale the gum I’ve been chewing on at the photo sitting there. Patting me on the back as I attempt to hack up the gum, my phone falls to the floor and Ines picks it up.
“Holy. Fucking. Hell!” she exclaims, as the picture of Asher’s rather large appendage in his training shorts takes up the whole screen. “No wonder you jumped in so quick.”
“Ines! That’s not why I like him,” I chastise, catching my breath.
“I’m sure it doesn’t hurt though,” she shrugs, pouting as I snatch back my phone, struggling to stifle the laugh wanting to break free.
Failing miserably, Ines and I grab at our sides as we laugh far too loudly for the other patrons of the store, many of them side-eyeing us. When the guy comes back with my jersey, I grab Ines by the hand and we run giggling from the store, as she makes big dick energy jokes.
“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?” Ines questions as we wait for a coffee. Her head tilted to the side.
“Um, to what are you referring?” I raise an eyebrow as I pump an extra shot of caramel into my coffee while the barista has his back turned.
A cheeky grin slides across her lips as she waggles her finger, tutting me. “Not that. Although, I can see why you would. No, I mean wear the jersey and jump in both feet.”
Inhaling a deep breath, we take our coffee and stroll across to First Fleet Park, slipping our shoes off and find a sunny spot to enjoy the view. Stretching my legs out, not avoiding her question, but thinking how to best put it into words, she nudges my shoulder.
“It’s—”
“Complicated?” she interrupts with a smirk.
“Yes, and no. Actually, if I think about it, it doesn’t feel complicated at all. It feels like the most natural thing in the world,” I sigh, just the thought of Asher enough to chase away any complications. “That first day I met him, I…well he came off like a cocky son-of-a-bitch, after he finally managed to say something to me. There was just something about him. Something I couldn’t let go of.”
Sipping her coffee, I can tell she’s putting her thoughts into order by the way her eyes look anywhere but me. I’m sure there’s a bunch of dick jokes running through her head as well, when her lips do this kissy thing as she tries to hold in a snort of laughter.
“Look, you’re my best friend. In the whole wide world. I love you,” she starts, securing her coffee on the grass by her side. “If you feel as connected to Anaconda Asher as you say you do, then I am behind you all the way.”
Rolling my eyes at the nickname she’s labelled him with, I smile when she takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you. It means a lot.”
“But you know this complicates things so much for me.”
“You’re not talking about Ronald, are you? Is he causing you?—”
“Forget about that douche,” she waves it away. “I’m just sorry I didn’t know about him sooner. No, I mean red is just not my colour, honey. How can I support your new man when I look awful in red?”
A snorting laugh escapes me, and we both fall into fits of laughter. Lying back on the grass and enjoying the summer sun, my thoughts quickly turn to seeing Asher tomorrow. Butterflies flutter and swoop in my chest and the urge for any amount of pressure down below, in that magical place between my thighs, makes it hard to concentrate on what Ines is saying.
All I know is, tomorrow things will be changed forever and for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid to take that leap.
For the first time in ten days, Asher and I didn’t speak last night and as stupid as it sounds, there’s this empty space in my heart. Sitting here at the Rays’ stadium, the ocean breeze greatly appreciated against the hot afternoon sun, my knee jiggles up and down nervously.
“Will you stop it,” Ines scolds, clamping her hand down on my knee.
“I can’t help it. What if he doesn’t see me? What if?—”
“What if the moon is made of cheese?” she jests, poking her tongue out at me. “Honey, if everything you’ve told me about this man is true, then you have nothing to worry about.”
Asher had warned me about his pre-game rituals and I knew we wouldn’t speak last night. Apparently, I’m a distraction—in a good way. I didn’t expect to have to spend half the night assuring Ines that Asher Scott was not a cheating home-wrecker after she did some digging of her own. Doesn’t stop me from glancing up to the players suite where the wives and girlfriends sit, trying to spot the woman who made so much trouble for him.
“Yes, you’re right. As always,” I admit, sighing heavily.
“I’d be more worried about sitting in the members’ stand in that jersey,” she snarks, my personalised Dingoes jersey well out of place in a sea of blue.
“They can go choke on a bag of dicks,” I say out of the side of my mouth, the man next to me giving me a weird look. “I pay my membership like everyone else.”
Ines opens her mouth to say something but shuts it as the ground announcer starts giving us the rundown of today’s events. Pre-season trials never garner much interest, but somehow, this match has sparked a lot of interest. The stadium is at capacity and as the cheerleaders make their way onto the ground, tension begins to build.
The perks of being a long-time member mean my seat is close to the tunnel where the players run onto the field, and right on the fence-line. The Dingoes bench is also right in front of us. There are already support staff setting up the area and I watch them, wondering if I can recognise any of them from Asher’s descriptions. When a gorgeous blonde starts moving things about, I’m fairly certain it’s Kennedy; Billy Hunt’s girlfriend and sister to the Dingoes captain, Kai Martin.
“Competition?” Ines whispers against my ear, as Kennedy laughs at something one of the other men around her says.
“No! No, she’s dating Billy,” I assure her, wondering if she’s as friendly as Asher tells me she is.
“Is he the guy with the thighs?” I nod, laughing at how Ines remembers people, and try hard to shut down the nervous energy making me regret that second cup of coffee.
And now —the announcer begins, a hush falling over the stadium— the match up you’ve all been waiting for. Please welcome to the field, the South Coast Dingoes!
A chorus of boos and hisses fill the air, as Kai Martin leads his team out onto the field and I stand up, eagerly waiting to see Asher run out. When a tall, dark-haired player with the number two jersey runs out, my heart jumps into my throat. I haven’t been this close to him in months, and I feel like a fucking teenager watching my crush.
It’s all obliterated in a hail of roaring cheers as the Rays take to the field, pyrotechnic flames going off around the stadium. When the smoke settles, I scan the field to find Asher on the opposite side. As the ref blows the whistle, and the Dingoes kick-off, rampaging down the field after the ball, the mix of excitement and nervous energy builds.
I love rugby league. I have since Poppy brought me to my first game. It became a tradition. One that marked me as the weird girl at school who could talk footy with the boys. It also irked my parents that I didn’t want to spend every weekend with them on their hunt for the best fishing spot in Sydney.
I’m torn about cheering for a side I’ve followed since I could walk as they make a break down the field. And supporting the man doing his best to stop them. It was obvious the Rays weren’t going to take it easy on Asher, but the bone crunching tackles and blatant arms thrown out taking him head-high makes me sick.
I’ve never shied away from the ferocity of the game, in fact, it’s part of the reason why I love it. Maybe it’s some weird recessive neanderthal gene that allows me to enjoy the brutality of it, while appreciating the skill and dedication it takes to play at this elite level week after week. Whatever it is, even I know the team I’ve supported for so long is going out of their way to target Asher and it feels very personal.
“How much more of that can he take?” Ines asks, wincing at another tackle taking him to the ground, elbows and knees thrust into him.
“I don’t know.” Shaking my head, the ref either needs new glasses or is deliberately ignoring it. I jump to my feet a few plays later as space opens up on the far side of the field and the ball lands on Asher’s chest.
He bursts up the field, none of the Rays players able to keep pace with him, but they manage to confine him to the corner of the in-goal area. As he slides across the try line, his teammates running up the field after him, Tyler Wannek slides into him, knees first.
Even the one-eyed Rays’ supporters let out a heaving moan, as Wannek’s knees connect with Asher’s head.
“Serves the little bugger right,” the man next to me yells.
“Oi!” I snap, staring daggers down at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“Listen here you?—”
“You what, old man?” Ines jumps in, forcibly swapping seats with me. “Like the lady said, don’t be an asshole.”
The man in question stays in his seat as other patrons stare at him, but I can’t care about it right now. Asher hasn’t gotten up, and as the medical team on the sideline race over to him, my heart skips more than a dozen beats waiting for him to move. When Ines slips her hand into mine, the air stalled in my lungs escapes and I breathe.
“He’ll be okay, honey,” she assures me and, as if her words are magic, Asher is helped to his feet. The crowd offer him supporting applause as he’s walked from the field, blood streaming down his face. “That looks nasty.”
Turning a furrowed brow on my friend, she shrugs her apology as I watch on, half expecting Asher to be taken down the tunnel. When he stops at the Dingoes’ bench in front of me, my mouth dries up, a weird mix of trepidation and excitement not helping.
“Well,” Ines pokes me. “Are you gonna call out to him or not?”
“No! No, I can’t do that. He needs to have his mind on the game,” I retort, slapping her hand down as she points in his direction.
I’d be lying if the thought of calling out to him isn’t nagging in the back of my head, but I know how much this game means to him. And he doesn’t need my worry on top of his own. Watching on as they tend to his head, they ask him a few questions and he nods, turning to scan the crowd. Hope that he’ll somehow spot me, builds and the sensation I’ve been experiencing every time we speak settles low in my belly.
It happens just like in the movies when his eyes meet mine. His mouth opens and closes, a wide smile lifting his face, and sparks explode in my mind.
You’re here , he mouths across the space, people walking in between us.
Nodding, I’m surprised when he grabs the towel being held to his head and walks toward me. For a moment we just stare at each other, but as his eyes drift down my body, taking in the Dingoes jersey I’m wearing, his smile turns possessive.
“Like a bit of danger, do you?” he leans in and whispers against my ear, his proximity sending jolts of pleasure racing through me.
“What’s life without a bit of excitement?” I manage to murmur back, his fingers brushing against mine, gripping the fence.
“Show him the back,” Ines interrupts, introducing herself as she spins me around. “She took a big risk for you, cute boy. I hope you’re worth it.”
“Ines!” I scold, spinning back around.
“I’d do anything for my number one fan,” he answers, referencing the writing I had put on the jersey. “This cute boy knows when he’s found the perfect woman.”
“Good answer,” Ines nods, sitting back down.
“So,” he leans back into me, his presence intoxicating. “Any chance I can fuck you wearing this jersey?”
I was not prepared for the heat and neediness hearing words like that in person would create and I have to force myself not to grab at him. The thought of being railed by this man sends my mind into overdrive, my pussy throbbing with anticipation.
“I think your chances are high, cute boy,” I tease, his pupils like saucers, his breath fluttering over my lips, my tongue darting out to capture even that small piece of him.
“Like I said, I’d do anything for my number one fan.”
“Scott, get your ass back here,” a cranky man calls out to him, waving him back to the bench.
“Wait for me. I’m escaping as soon as I can, and taking you somewhere private where I can have you all to myself,” he declares as he walks backwards towards the bench.
“Promise?” I call across to him, lifting the hem of the jersey to show him some flesh.
“With my dying fucking breath.” And with that, he’s gone and my entire body is alight with need.
“Holy hell,” Ines breathes at my side, fanning herself.
I don’t even have the capacity to answer her, Asher having completely boggled my mind. All I can think about is riding him till he comes, all while wearing the jersey I’m glad I got.
The rest of the game is just as brutal and I’m at the don’t-give-a-fuck point and begin cheering whenever the Dingoes make a break or score a try. By the time the final hooter rings, I’m so wired, I have to dance on the balls of my feet to stop myself from imploding.
“Wow, that was some battle.” Ines isn’t wrong, the Dingoes may have taken this round by one measly point, but the war created by one man isn’t over. “Are you gonna wait for him, or do you wanna get out of here?”
“Would you think less of me if I wanted to wait?” I’m not sure why it matters. I’m an adult and I can do what I want. But the idea of the only person in my life not understanding, no matter how insane it might seem, that Asher Scott is worth waiting for, hurts.
“Never. Now go get your man.”