Page 3 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

Fixating on the match was the only way through this.

At least she had Monty B-C’s bowling and fielding skills to look forward to, and there might be another dreamy close-up of him shaking his hair when he removed his helmet after a long and victorious set of overs.

He’d been playing most of them well below average so far, according to Harry, who was disappointed that the Bath captain had not yet fired any explosive shots.

The new over started just as a cluster of fat white clouds covered the stadium, bringing with them a welcome break from all the squinting and an even better view of the main attraction.

Monty struggled to connect his bat with the ball for the first few attempts.

The York bowler, fancying his chances, went for ‘a bouncer’– this, again, according to the running commentary of Harry– nearly knocking Monty’s head off in the process.

The crowd laughed, expecting him to finally lose his wicket.

How rude! Lola felt strangely protective of the blue number six.

Despite the fact he probably had a gorgeous girlfriend sitting in one of those posh boxes, where she would be knocking back the champagne, well-versed in her duties as a cricket WAG, pretending she had no idea that the cameras were rolling.

Now the bowler pounded in and Lola’s attention returned to the present as he rushed another short-pitched ball in the direction of Monty’s head…

but SMASH! The ball disappeared over the boundary rope for six runs in a beautiful connection.

The crowd was momentarily silenced, followed by the tinkle of polite applause.

‘Now that’s what I call a six !’

But Harry’s uncharacteristically high-pitched words hung in the air. In fact, everything decelerated to a strange slo-mo bullet scene that could have been plucked straight out of The Matrix .

Only this one involved a ball. A very hard ball whose trajectory was heading straight for Lola.

Her life began to flash before her bugged out eyes.

Reflexes triggered, she dropped her drink and tissues to the ground and stood with cupped hands to attempt to catch it.

The alternative was a broken nose… if she got off lightly.

Apparently, Julian thought he was doing the same thing; his sticky body and stale fumes gatecrashing her actions as he tried to line up with the shot.

But a) Lola couldn’t trust him not to let the ball hit her and b) even if he could be trusted when it came to this critical moment in time, no way was she letting him take the glory.

Lola wobbled this way and that like a skittle, except she was trying to align herself with a much smaller ball.

Amazingly, as the white object came closer, muscle memory engaged.

All those rounders matches at school had somehow paid off.

Sure, the force of the cricket ball tipped her backwards as her hands made purchase with the leather and she gripped it tightly, but she miraculously managed to regain her balance.

Despite Julian’s pushing and shoving, despite Julian’s hat flying out into the ether, and despite the fact there were thousands of pairs of eyes on her.

She’d saved herself. Perhaps even the people sitting in the row behind!

Lola was about to let out a giant, shaky sigh of relief, feeling quite the heroine of the hour, when she felt a disturbing tug at her side.

As the crowd thundered in awe at her impressive work and she took in the unexpected sight of herself on the big screen, for some strange reason she also felt like a table whose cloth was about to be ripped from beneath its cups and bowls.

Except she wasn’t wearing a bra or anything else of cylindrical proportions under her dress. Which meant her breasts were currently on view to not only the stadium and its audience, but those watching at home as well.

Instinctively, Lola dropped the ball to her feet where her dress was sitting in an inelegant pool, having slid down the length of her body.

Then she did the only thing she could; covering her pert flesh with her long hair.

This was like one of those out of body experiences she’d read about.

Or a very unfunny Hallmark romcom, where she was watching the female MC squirm with discomfort as she willed the ground to swallow her whole.

The noise coming from the crowd now was a confused mix of laughter, whoops and expletives.

All of which meant that Lola Smith’s life as she knew it was over.

As she shimmied herself to the ground to somehow wriggle her way back into her clothes, Lola caught the bewildered gaze of Monty B-C, before the broadcast was cut and the players were directed to the sidelines for a much-needed break.

She would never forget those haunted blue eyes as long as she lived.

‘I did ask nicely to play with you,’ Julian whispered, shirking off his culpability in cricket’s biggest shit show. ‘That’s what you get for looking like a Barbie doll. Never mind, the dress needed washing anyway.’