Page 7

Megan came back to ours after school the next day, like she usually did when we had practice.

Usually she’d be in my room with me getting ready, but now she was with Niall.

I turned up my music and put extra effort into looking perfect.

It was all I could do. I couldn’t train any harder, play any better, but I could put more effort into my looks, doing my hair, my make-up, wearing my most expensive under-layers and my new boots.

I still might not look as good as Megan with her shiny dark hair and big brown eyes, but I could look like a better me.

I left before them without saying anything. I couldn’t face another silent car journey. They could drive themselves.

The club was pretty much empty when I got there.

The floodlights were on, and I felt immediately calmer.

I walked into the middle of the pitch with a ball I’d found lying at the side and started to kick it into the net.

Testing myself. Giving myself a target: top left, bottom right, whatever. And two times out of three I got it.

‘Nice shot.’

I spun round. And just like the other night, the world stopped for a second. There he was, on the other side of the fence.

‘Thanks,’ I said, putting my foot on the ball to stop it rolling.

He jumped over the fence and on to the pitch. He was wearing all black again. Black zip-up Adidas top, black track bottoms and the same battered black boots from Tuesday night.

I passed him the ball.

‘Sorry I had to go on Tuesday. If I’d missed the bus, it would have been ages for the next one and I needed to get home.’ He kicked the ball back and I stopped it dead, one touch, then passed it back.

‘Where do you live?’

I had so many questions and that was the first one that came out.

‘Near Ferndale. You?’

We kept passing the ball between ourselves, getting closer and closer, so it would be even more obvious if I made a crap pass.

‘Seaport. Close. Not Lane,’ I added. Then realized how stupid it sounded. My house was pretty big, but not as big as the mansions on Seaport Lane, like the one Hunter lived in.

‘Where’s that?’ he asked, flicking hair from his face at the same time as pulling the ball up on to his toe and doing keepy-ups.

‘Just on the lough,’ I said.

He passed it back and I had to bring it down out of the air.

‘Very nice.’ He smiled, but it was towards the ball.

‘How come you’re here so early?’

‘Harrison asked me to come down; said he’d go over some stuff during your practice. It’s pretty intense here.’

‘Yeah, “intense” is one word for it,’ I said. ‘Where did you play before?’

‘Ferndale United.’

‘Ah, OK … Well, yeah, definitely more intense than Ferndale,’ I agreed. ‘Hold on, what shirt’s that?’ I nodded at where I could see a white shirt beneath his track top.

He laughed. Maybe it was more of an exhale. He unzipped his top in one smooth motion.

‘My eyes!’ I covered them.

He laughed. ‘Everton supporter?’

I shook my head in disgust.

‘No, don’t tell me it’s United.’ He squeezed his eyes shut, moved away with the ball, then turned back to me and passed it.

I just about stopped it. ‘Through and through. Come on. Liverpool, really?’ I couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit disappointed.

‘Aye, my dad’s a Scouser. So it’s always been Liverpool for us.’ He shrugged. ‘Pass.’ He nodded at the ball.

‘As if.’ I pulled it back. Then he ran towards me. I held out my arm and turned, blocking him from the ball. But I clearly didn’t do a good enough job because he was doing keepy-ups beside me in less than five seconds.

‘Something else my dad taught me. If you really want something, go get it yourself.’ He smiled again, flicking his eyes towards me, but still keeping total control of the ball.

I lunged towards him, and he turned, blocking me. His back on my chest. I grabbed his arm to pull him back, the only way I’d have any chance in hell of getting the ball.

‘Foul,’ he said with a laugh, holding me off and moving the ball to his other foot.

I twisted his arm and he turned round, ball between us, so close that I could feel his warm breath on my face.

‘Lucky there’s no ref,’ he said.

‘Oh yeah? Or what?’

‘Straight red.’ He raised his eyebrows and grinned, his eyes shining in the glow of the floodlights.

‘Ref didn’t see it,’ I challenged, my hands on my hips.

‘Pretty useless ref then.’

He was so close I could smell him. Body spray, fabric conditioner. God, he was even more gorgeous close up, even in the dark. Square shoulders, lean, footballer’s build, but it was his face that got me. The light eyes with eyelashes so dark it looked like he was wearing eyeliner.

‘So what’s the deal with your team? You playing in this league?’ he asked, dodging my tackle.

‘South Belfast Youth League? Yeah, we’ve a game tomorrow night, just before yours actually, up at the Dub. Cliftonville – it’ll be a tough one.’ My stomach lurched at the thought of the game, even though I was a sub.

‘Oh shit. Good luck. I’ve no idea who we’re playing.’

‘Glentoran. Niall will say they’re shit, but he always does that when he’s nervous about a match; they’re really good.’

Shane passed me the ball. ‘Niall the other striker?’ He looked at me, like he was trying to work out why I’d brought him up. ‘He your boyfriend or something?’

I burst out laughing and flicked the ball to him, watching him trap it dead under his foot. ‘Boyfriend, no. Brother, unfortunately. Twin.’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘He’s with Megan. She’s on the team, midfield.’ And I hated how it felt on my tongue. Bitter and wrong.

‘Ah yeah, I think I saw her play at practice.’ He passed the ball back and I tried to ignore the sinking feeling that always showed up when people talked about Megan playing football.

‘She’s had a couple of teams try to poach her, but she’s stayed at Westing.’ I never understood that about Megan. She had all the talent in the world. She could play for whatever team she wanted, but she had no interest in moving; it was all just fun for her.

‘You love it then? Football?’ He was looking right into my eyes now for the answer. But it was my smile that gave it away.

‘More than anything. When I’m not playing it’s all I think about, always thinking of the next game, always out in the back garden practising, watching it on TV.

Football’s my life.’ I felt my face flush with embarrassment.

‘I don’t think I’ve told anyone how much I love it.

It’s like if you admit it, it’s embarrassing if you’re not the best player.

I mean, it would be OK for Megan to say she loves it because she can back it up.

But me?’ I laughed, trying to hide the humiliation of sharing so much. But it felt easy with him.

He stopped the ball and looked at me deadly seriously. ‘You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that.’

My stomach flipped. ‘Yeah, I know, just a habit.’

‘What’s your name?’

I’d forgotten that we hadn’t even exchanged names, even though I knew his already.

‘Lexie,’ I said.

He repeated it, like he wanted to try out the way it felt on his tongue. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Shane.’ He grinned as he held out his hand.

And that was all it took. A handshake that sent waves of electricity through my veins and I knew that this was only the beginning.