Page 7

At dawn the next morning, Maeve arrives at the training ground, her resolve strong and her flawless ponytail swinging.

She’s feeling a little better than she was after yesterday’s disastrous first session with the new coach, or at least, she’s feeling focused on exactly what she needs to do.

She’s entered a state of single-mindedness that she’s used to and where she thrives.

It’s been a part of her life for so long, this anticipation of training for the next big challenge.

There have rarely been times she’s not been preparing as if the next war is just around the corner, her body almost feels more normal when it’s tense and shot through with cortisol.

She is proud of herself for how she coped last night, relying on the routines she’s honed over the years.

She efficiently made one of her high-protein tofu and peanut rice bowls, cooking in her airfryer while she did a quick Peloton exercise.

She watched some of Serena Hoffmann’s latest television appearances as a pundit, analysing what she most regularly comments on and criticises in players.

She could have guessed: their new coach is strict and ruthless, particularly harsh on players who don’t correct their own weaknesses.

She’s a coach after Maeve’s own heart, really.

Maeve had gotten into her pyjamas (ones Adriana bought her years ago which are not only too small but covered in cartoon cows), brushed her teeth, did a few yoga stretches, then sprayed her lavender pillow spray, put on her eye mask, checked her three alarms were set, and then put on her whale sounds (she can’t relax to anything else).

Thankfully, altogether, it was enough to quieten her racing mind for her exhausted body to sleep and wake early.

Maeve is glad she didn’t give in to Adriana’s suggestions to go to the pub last night. I mean, honestly, what planet is her friend on sometimes? Maeve smiles to herself, and sends her a text while she waits for her of a picture of her personalised water bottle, toasting the early morning sunrise.

Here we go again! x

The message comes back with an ‘undelivered’ symbol, which she half-expected. She only hopes it’s from sleeping well in do not disturb mode, and not that Adriana went out again last night. She’s starting to worry about how much she’s been going out, but doesn’t want to seem like she’s nagging her.

As Maeve tucks her phone away and heads through the corridors, it secretly makes her feel proud, to be clocking in while her teammates are still literally asleep.

She swipes her pass to open the door onto the pitch thinking about how she loves having the pitch to herself.

When it’s quiet, and there’s no distractions, and–

She hears a slam of a football hitting the back of a net, followed by a wild whoop.

Maeve freezes. Someone is already training.

Now? Before the sun has even risen? Before her?

Maeve hangs back so that she can watch the mystery player, unseen. She’s not someone Maeve recognises. Who is she?

The new player is small and lithe, with light brown skin and dark hair cropped in a short back and sides, cut shorter than any of the other women in the team, with messy waves on top that dances chaotically as the woman runs. And God, she runs fast.

She’s throwing herself around with a commitment and physical exertion which impresses Maeve, especially as she’s only training.

She keeps going in for huge, bold kicks, hitting goal after goal from further and further away from the net, sprinting to the next practice ball.

Maeve’s trained eye sees the pattern in how she’s practicing, the way she aims for the hardest-to-defend edges of the goal in its top corners.

Occasionally she misses, because she was taking bolder risks, striking from more acute angles.

And then, she throws the ball up, jumps and goes for a header from the middle of the net, and it lands right in the centre of the goal.

The stranger pushes her hair back from her glistening face, wipes her neck, breathing heavier.

As Maeve watches, her heart is racing as if she was doing the exercises herself.

The stranger fans her t-shirt – a white and red kit for a team Maeve doesn’t recognise – and Maeve squints to read the name printed on its back above the number 9: CHOKSI.

Choksi. Something clicks into place in Maeve’s mind.

She’s heard of her because Choksi had scored a number of impressive goals for Hoffman’s old team, the Loughborough Vixens, and there was quite a bit of publicity around her.

She remembers hearing about how Choksi was Serena Hoffman’s protegee, a star player who she scouted herself and has been training with for years.

Now seeing Choksi’s bold and confident energy, her impeccable form, Maeve can see why Coach has brought her into the club with her. Still, Coach Hoffman has moved unusually fast to already bring a new player into the Tigresses, and Maeve worries it’s a sign of more shaking up to come.

But what should Maeve say to her now? She needs to make a good first impression on her new teammate, and she wishes Adriana were here to help ease it with her charm. Should Maeve admit she’s heard of her?

For some reason, Maeve’s mind goes to trying to recall good chat-up lines. What was that one Adriana told her to use that one time she was trying to persuade her to hit on someone at the pub? ‘You seem familiar’, ‘Don’t I know you?’ Something like that?

No! Maeve shakes her own head. What is wrong with her? Not chat-up lines! She just needs a nice normal things to say to a new teammate who she is seeing early on the pitch one morning. She should just introduce herself.

To Maeve’s utter astonishment, Choksi twists her arms around herself and pulls her t-shirt off.

She paces the middle of the empty pitch in just her black sports bra, loose-fitting sports shorts and trainers, showing her abs are just as impressive as her toned shoulder muscles.

She starts stretching her thighs out, gently thrusting out her hips and rocking forwards and back and Maeve can’t cope anymore.

It’s one thing to be checking out the competition. It’s quite another to be checking out the competition.

Then a voice calls loudly across the pitch.

‘Hello? Is someone there?’

Maeve’s worst nightmare is coming true. The striker is squinting at where Maeve is stood in the dark corridor, and now she is jogging over. Shit.

‘Yo!’ the new player calls out casually. The woman seems completely unfazed that she’s just in her sports bra. She stops before her, and cocks her head to one side, openly eyeing Maeve up and down.

‘Ooh… Hey, you seem really familiar.’

Maeve might faint. The stranger pushes the messy waves out of her eyes, and Maeve sees them properly for the first time. They’re the same rich brown as her hair, but with a brightness and spark to them, seemingly lit from a fire within. They are the most beautiful eyes Maeve has ever seen.

‘I’m Kira,’ she says, offering out a hand. ‘I play upfront.’

Maeve realises she has a light American accent, though Maeve can’t place exactly where.

‘M-Maeve,’ she stumbles, reaching out to shake Kira’s hand. ‘Centre-back.’

Maeve hopes Kira can’t feel how sweaty her palms are because of her being the one who was just exercising.

‘Oh, that’s right,’ Kira grins. ‘I know who you are.’

‘I… You do?’

‘Well, duh, obviously I’ve watched you play,’ Kira replies. ‘You’re supposedly one of the best players in our league so…’

Maeve feels wrong-footed. ‘Duh?’…‘Supposedly?’ She feels like the woman is showing off her knowledge, which is normally Maeve’s thing.

‘Oh,’ Maeve retracts her hand, which feels like it’s burning from their touch. ‘Well, of course I’ve watched you too – when you were playing for the Vixens, I mean, not, you know, just now.’

Kira frowns, then her mouth twitches, amused. ‘Just now? Were you watching me train, this whole time?’

Kira still makes no effort to reach for her training hoodie that’s on the ground next to them both.

‘Er, I… I mean, I arrived, and… saw you… yes I did watch you for a bit, sorry if that was weird of me…’ Maeve trails off, feeling her cheeks scorching again.

Kira holds Maeve’s gaze, wets her lip. ‘And? Did you like what you see?’

Kira grins cockily. It makes Maeve imagine what it would be like to be with Kira in a dark bedroom, and the fact her mind went there only makes her panic more. Her brain completely overheats and she doesn’t answer for too long.

Maeve has never trusted her own gay dar, but even if Kira is queer, someone as gorgeous as her couldn’t possibly be flirting with Maeve, could she? Besides, if they’re going to be teammates, surely Kira would also assume they would keep things strictly professional between them?

Maybe, Maeve realises, Kira’s just asking for feedback on her training prowess!

What should Maeve say? ‘You’re the most amazing player I’ve ever seen?

I’m intimidated by you?’ She doesn’t want to be weird and suck up to her too much.

Maeve’s frazzled brain tries to say something minimal and neutral.

‘You’re– I– You’re fine,’ Maeve mumbles. ‘I mean, you’re not fine as in– I mean. Your form is okay.’

Kira folds her arms. Maeve can’t help noticing the hard lines of the woman’s biceps and forearms.

‘Excuse me?’ says Kira. ‘Okay? My form is “okay?” Is this the kind of astute feedback that made you team captain?’

Okay, that’s confirmed it. Her new gorgeous teammate hates her.

‘I-I’m a good captain!’ Maeve folds her arms defensively.

‘Oh, really?’ Kira raises an eyebrow. ‘And what if someone else wants to be Captain instead?’

It’s clear to Maeve that Kira is out to rattle her and this is a direct threat. She has to hold her ground.

‘They’d have to fight me for it,’ she says firmly.

Kira eyes Maeve up and down again in a way that makes her neck hot, then she grins wolfishly. ‘Sounds fun.’

Maeve doesn’t know what they would have done next – Brawl? Kiss? – if they hadn’t then been interrupted by the arrival of Coach Hoffman.

‘Ah, Maeve. Kira. So I see you have already become… acquainted.’

Maeve realises the two of them are stood very close, a little breathless, and that Kira is still half undressed.

‘What were you two getting up to?’ Coach asks, her eyes sharp.

Maeve can’t tell if the coach is asking what drills they’ve been doing, or something else, but Maeve’s brain goes into meltdown.

‘I was just– er, I mean, she was already…’

Maeve tails off.

‘We were just warming up, Coach,’ says Kira, innocently. Maeve’s cheeks flush even harder.

‘Quite,’ says Hoffman, then glances at her watch.

‘Well, I think it’s highly likely that as two of our highest value players, you will be working closely together.

Your teammates will be arriving in ten minutes, why don’t you two go together to tell them to come straight to meet me here on the pitch? ’

‘Yes Coach,’ Maeve says eagerly.

‘And Kira?’ says Coach. ‘Perhaps you’d like to meet your other teammates fully clothed, so go and get kitted out first.’

Kira grabs the old shirt Hoffman throws over and nods, then flashes Maeve a cocky wink.

‘See you later then, Murphy.’