Striker. Michelle Betham
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even though pre-match sex was usually way off-limits. It wasn’t something that was encouraged because it could have a habit of draining vital energy needed to kick the arses of whomever you happened to be playing later. Shit! Ryan wasn’t handling this well at all today. He was usually so focused, so totally fixed on nothing but the football, so why was he suddenly distracted? It all felt too familiar, too much of a sense of déjà vu and that only served to make Ryan nervous. He’d thought he was dealing with this. He’d thought he could do it.
A knock at the door made him almost jump out of his skin and he sat bolt upright, shoving his laptop underneath a pillow as Gary popped his head round the door. ‘Hey, you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost?’
‘I was… I was asleep. I woke up with a bit of a start, that’s all.’
‘Sorry, mate. But it’s lunchtime. The boss wants us all downstairs in five. Okay?’
Ryan smiled, standing up and running a hand through his dark hair. ‘Yeah. Okay.’
It was time to get his focus back. He had a match to play, and everything else had to be put to the back of his mind – for now, at least.
‘Hey, you,’ Amber smiled, kissing Ronnie on both cheeks as she joined him at the bar in the Players’ Lounge at Tynebridge for a pre-match drink. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘And you, kiddo,’ Ronnie smiled back, giving her a big hug. ‘It makes a change for us both to be able to enjoy a match without either of us being here in a professional capacity.’
Amber leaned over the bar, ordering them both bottles of lager. If neither of them were working, then there was no reason why they shouldn’t kick back and enjoy the afternoon. ‘You’re not here to babysit me, are you?’ Amber asked, looking at Ronnie with a slightly suspicious expression as she slid up onto a barstool.
‘Jesus, you’re a bit paranoid, aren’t you?’ Ronnie laughed, leaning back against the bar and folding his arms. ‘Why? Do you need babysitting?’
Amber stuck her tongue out at him, taking a swig of lager straight from the bottle.
‘Everything still going okay with you and Roy of the Rovers?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Amber smiled, scanning the room to see if there was anyone else in there she recognised. ‘Everything is just fine.’
‘Any sign of it getting serious?’
‘Jesus, no!’ Amber said, almost choking on her lager. ‘Far from it! But it’s good to be having some fun, y’know? Without the burden of commitment.’
‘Yeah. I can see that,’ Ronnie smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. ‘Maybe we’re all wrong about him, huh? Because he certainly seems to be making you the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time.’
‘Well, I can’t deny I like being with him. He’s proving to be a very reliable stress-buster.’
‘What have you got to be stressed about?’ Ronnie asked, frowning slightly.
Amber took another swig of lager, looking away for a second, which was a mistake. Because Jim Allen chose that exact moment to walk into the Players’ Lounge, his hands in the pockets of his dark suit, that smile lighting up his handsome face as he stopped to talk to people. It wasn’t a usual occurrence to see the manager of the home team in the Players’ Lounge so soon before kick-off, and just the sight of him made Amber suddenly feel quite anxious.
‘Nothing,’ Amber replied, turning back to face Ronnie. ‘I’ve got nothing to be stressed about.’ She slid down from her stool, straightening her top before kissing Ronnie quickly on the cheek. ‘I’ve just got to nip to the loo. I’ll see you up in the executive box in a bit, okay?’
‘Yeah. Okay.’
She almost ran out of the Lounge, hoping that Jim hadn’t noticed her, her heart beating like a jackhammer because she really couldn’t face talking to him. Not now. Not today.
‘Amber! Amber, wait…’
She stopped walking and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and sighing heavily. ‘What do you want, Jim?’
‘Come to my office. Please. I just want to talk to you.’
She looked at her watch, tapping the face as her eyes met his. ‘You are aware of the time, aren’t you?’
‘Colin’s got everything under control. Please, Amber. Five minutes, that’s all.’
‘What do we need to talk about, Jim? You’re back, and I’ve just got to deal with that. We don’t need to talk about anything.’
He reached out and gently ran his thumb over her cheek, and as he did so his eyes never wavered from hers, his stare almost mesmerising, bringing with it a hundred and one memories that Amber had tried so hard to keep hidden. ‘I think we do.’
She threw her head back, sighing again, pushing a hand through her dark red hair. ‘Five minutes. That’s all.’
Amber could feel her anxiety levels rising as they walked the short distance downstairs to Jim’s office. She shouldn’t be doing this. She really shouldn’t be doing this. The manager’s office was directly opposite the home team’s dressing room, the tiniest of spaces separating the two rooms, and it was just too close for comfort in Amber’s eyes. She should have been strong enough to say no to him. She should have been strong enough to turn around and walk away, but she’d never been strong enough to say no to Jim Allen. And that was what scared her the most. From a distance she could cope, but when he was this close to her she didn’t know if it was going to be that easy.
Closing the door behind them, Jim took off his jacket and flung it over the back of the chair behind his desk, sticking his hands in his pockets again. He walked round to the front of his desk, leaning back against it, looking straight at Amber. ‘You seem nervous.’
‘Of course I’m nervous. I’m alone in a room with you, and I’m not entirely sure how I let that happen.’
‘I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘Not in the physical sense of the word, no,’ Amber said quietly, still all too aware that Ryan was just metres away in the dressing room opposite. She could hear the players’ voices; she could hear the noise, the hum of all that pre-match chatter, and it didn’t make her feel comfortable.
‘Amber, please. I really want you to…’
‘Trust you? Is that what you were going to say?’
He pushed a hand through his dark, grey-flecked hair, looking down at the ground. ‘I don’t think you’re ever going to trust me again, are you?’
‘Too damn right I’m not.’ She backed away towards the door, almost as if placing herself there meant she could make her escape that much faster. ‘Twice, Jim. I trusted you twice, and both times you threw it back in my face.’ She looked right at him. ‘So how can you ever expect me to trust you again?’
He looked down at the floor. ‘I can’t.’
‘No. You can’t.’
He walked over to her and Amber made no attempt to move, even though a huge part of her was screaming back off, get out of there! She was doing everything she’d promised herself she’d never do again. She was letting Jim back in, letting him wield that power over her that only he could inflict. And all of a sudden she was that sixteen-year-old girl again, looking up into the eyes of a man who should have known better. A man who was about to take over her entire life, just as he had done all those years ago.
‘If I could walk away, Amber, I would. Believe me.’
‘That’s bullshit, Jim. Of course you can walk away.’
‘Can you?’ He reached out and touched her face, stroking her cheek with his fingertips, so lightly it made Amber catch