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Now

‘Shit shit shit shit shit!’

Adriana groans.

She looks around her, blinking at the unfamiliar blue-grey walls.

It’s a nice place, she’ll give whoever-he-is that.

Swanky. That would make sense, as it starts to come back to her that this guy had bought her very nice cocktails last night.

No wonder she got drunker than she’d previously promised – she can never resist a negroni on someone else’s money.

His houseplants are actually alive and thriving (unlike in her own flat), and everything is neat and orderly (ditto), with no clothes strewn on the floor except her own.

But the spot in the silky bed next to her is empty.

Maybe he’s already done a runner. That’d be ironic because normally it’s Adriana who runs out to go to training, without leaving her number to the guy she’s brought home the night before.

But last night, Drunk-Adriana must have been having so much fun that she had forgotten to set herself an adequate alarm.

It’s only with Maeve calling her that she has any chance of making it to training this morning.

Thank God for Maeve, she thinks before leaping up but her head kicks back in anger at her sudden jolt.

Wow, today’s training session is going to be a really painful one.

Hungover-Adriana sprints around the unfamiliar room, picking up her things from the floor like she’s doing a fiendish warm-up exercise with squats and jumps.

There’s her bright blue lacey bra and pants among the bed sheets, her sparkly mini-dress in the corner, and one way-too-tall platform heel by the monstera…

None of these items of clothing will be at all appropriate for running around the pitch in twenty minutes time.

They were barely appropriate on the dancefloor last night – which is what was so fun about wearing them.

It had been a long week of training where their coach had seemed off with them, and then last night it was her teammate Elisa’s birthday, so of course Adriana had rallied a group of them to go out to their local pub.

One thing led to another (or one pub led to a bar…

which led to a club…). But Adriana has no regrets. She loves to work hard, play harder.

She’s just searching for her other shoe – distracted by the stacks of books overflowing from the bookshelves onto the floor, when in her periphery a shadow appears in the doorway.

Oh my God, there’s a man! This shouldn’t really surprise her, a man does kind of usually come with the territory of a one-night-stand’s bedroom, and yet it still somehow always does give her a shock to see him in the cold light of day rather than the darkness of the club.

Adriana freezes, crouched, as she looks up at him.

Well damn, she can’t fault Drunk-Adriana’s taste.

This man is toweringly tall, probably at least six foot three, with broad shoulders and toned arms. His hair is a golden brown, and he’s clean-shaven over his square jaw, with a hint of light stubble from the morning.

He’s carrying two ceramic mugs of steaming coffee. And he’s also very, very naked.

Adriana gulps. Suddenly she’s remembering more of what they did last night, and exactly how good it was.

‘Good morning, Addy,’ the man grins, his voice is low and assured, and it sounds like it belongs on adverts for luxury cars, cologne, watches.

That voice could sell her anything. ‘I know you can’t stay, but I thought this might help you get up.

You mentioned last night you like mochas so I’ve taken the liberty–’

‘Oh!’ she smiles and gets to her feet, reaching out for the coffee. ‘Thank you, that’s so sweet.’

As they toast their mugs, their eyes meet.

He had glasses on last night, she remembers hazily, but without them now she clearly sees the detail of their hazel colours – the same chocolate brown as her mocha, mixed within a calming, earthy green.

Despite his otherwise unsmiling expression, they have a twinkle of humour in them.

Adriana racks her brain to try to recall his name.

James? No, that’s not right but J-a seems right.

They’d met when Adriana was saying goodnight to the others.

While she’d debated whether to order her own taxi, her eyes had landed on his, already looking at her from across the bar.

It was hardly the first time Adriana had fancied a stranger in a bar, but as she looks into his eyes now, she remembers the unfamiliar jolting feeling she’d had last night too – a strange sense that she’d met him before.

She remembers suddenly that she had in fact said this to him last night, when she’d walked over to him.

He had raised an eyebrow, asking if that was a pick-up line.

‘I’d definitely remember if we’d met before,’ he had said. ‘But how about we make sure this isn’t the last time?’

Adriana’s phone buzzes angrily again, pulling her out of the moment.

‘Oh God,’ she groans. ‘I gotta go, I’m sorry, Jake.’

‘It’s Jacob.’ He mutters, folding his arms defensively across his bare torso.

She winces. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, that’s embarrassing.’

There’s an awkward silence between them for a second, Adriana wobbling on her one shoe, wondering how to say, in case she hadn’t last night, that she won’t be seeing him again.

‘Well, look I had a lot of fun last night. Like, a lot .’

‘But not enough to want to see me again?’ He cuts in.

She glances up at him. His tone is neutral.

‘It’s not personal,’ she shrugs. ‘I just, you know, have my rules.’

‘Oh, I know,’ says Jacob. ‘You made it very clear last night. You told me approximately twenty-five times that you are not looking for anything serious.’

‘It’s not just not anything serious.’ Adriana explains defensively. ‘It’s one night only. No rematches.’

‘Sure,’ Jacob takes a sip of his coffee. ‘Just seems like a bit of a stupid rule to me.’

‘How dare you!’ she says, hands on her hips. ‘You don’t even know me!’

‘But I’m telling you I want to,’ says Jacob calmly. ‘How could I know you, if you insist on this ridiculous one-night only policy?’

She shakes her head.

‘Listen Jacob, this was fun. Really fun. Like, best one-night stand of my life kind of fun. Let’s not spoil it now, okay? You can just think of me fondly as a fun memory.’

She thought the sexual compliment – which happens to be true – would please Jacob enough that he’d let her go, but instead it seems to have made him even grumpier somehow.

As the world’s biggest people pleaser, Adriana hates leaving someone displeased with her, especially someone who seems, beneath that sarcastic exterior, to be a sweet guy. But she just needs to get out of here.

‘Now, where the hell is my–’

‘Looking for this, Cinderella?’

Adriana realises he’s holding up her missing shoe.

He puts the shoe in front of her, and as she slips her foot in it, he kneels before her, helping tie the strap round her ankle.

‘Thank you, Prince Charming.’

Their eyes meet again, and Adriana has another unfamiliar twist in her chest. For the first time, she has a pang of doubt about her no repeats rule.

But no, no, she tells herself, it’s not that deep. It must just be the caffeine rush from the mocha, and her being swayed by how good he looks, naked, kneeling before her so attentively.

‘Just remember that you do have my number,’ he says softly. ‘If you ever change your mind.’

Instead, she ruffles his hair, and then skips towards the door.

‘See you round, Jake.’ She winks, this time doing it on purpose.

As the door closes behind her, the last thing she hears is him muttering under his breath, ‘It’s Jacob .’

Traffic is terrible!!!

Adriana lies in the team group chat, hastily typing out a message and hoping they buy her excuse as to why she’s running late.

I should be there in 5 though!!! So sorry!!!

She doesn’t know why she bothers to maintain the ruse, really, especially as the drinks had started as a celebration for her teammate’s birthday.

But it’s the principle of the thing. Maeve hadn’t come out with them last night – she barely drinks, even when they’re between seasons, and clubs aren’t her thing.

Despite Maeve sometimes suggesting her friend could take training more seriously, Adriana is used to playing hungover now, and convinced she’s just as good as when she’s following Coach’s schedule to the letter.

But this morning, no one replies to her message, not even with a laughing emoji. Not even a knowing hungover emoji from Elisa and the others.

A twinge of hangxiety starts to kick in.

Adriana hadn’t meant to make it such a big night last night – she must have got unexpectedly caught up in Jacob, and that addictive swooping in her stomach when they look at each other.

And, Adriana tries to justify to herself, she wouldn’t drink if she thought it genuinely affected her ability to play well or, obviously, if the team had a match.

But it’s pre-season! And the weather is gloriously sunny!

And she had been feeling so cute in her dress and a particularly handsome man wanted to buy her negronis! I mean, what’s a girl to do?

Adriana opens up her private chat with Maeve – in her constantly busy WhatsApp, her chat with Maeve is the only contact she has pinned to the top.

Assuming you’re there already, is everything ok??? Did something happen?? Also, babe, I will owe you 4ever, but I neeeed to borrow your spare kit today PLEASE????

Waiting for you on the corner.

Maeve texts back almost immediately, much to Adriana’s relief.

Adriana leans back in her seat grinning to herself, thanking any and all Gods yet again for her best friend who always comes to her rescue. And so, now, for five whole minutes, she can just chat to her taxi driver – one of her favourite pastimes – telling him all about her date last night.