Page 68 of Try Hard

“Whenever you want,” she said, and it felt like she really meant it, like she wasn’t just going to disappear after this whole wedding thing. She sounded like I had the time to tell her all the things I wanted to.

???

I’d known the whole grey joggers on guys thing was a trend social media lost its soul over, but I hadn’t been prepared for how Eve stepping out of her car in dark grey joggers was going to make me feel—something distant and unfamiliar.

Joggers were not the kind of thing people got tailored, but the things looked like they’d been made for her. Maybe they had been tailored. Her outfit at Kim’s brunch had very effectively demonstrated she had a skilled tailor, and how else did someonehave joggers that skimmed or clung to their legs in all the right places?

“You good?” she asked, a gleam in her eye.

“Yes,” I said quickly, straightening up like a kid who’d been caught stealing.

Eve laughed and pulled both our bags out of the car.

“Oh.” I faltered. “I can take that—”

“I got it,” she said with a wink as she shut the boot and led me towards the pitch. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

It took me longer than it should have to realise she meant the team. She was introducing me to her friends, her teammates.

My heart raced like I’d never met a new person in my life.

When we made it to the field, the whole thing felt almost uncanny. There were more spectators than a random local sports league would generally bring out, but it wasn’t the crowds I knew Evehadplayed in front of. She clearly kept her involvement with the team relatively well hidden, but still, it was Eve Archer playing rugby where anyone could see.

“Dai,” Eve called in greeting as we passed a stand set up for concessions—one man with a folding table covered in boxes of crisps and drinks.

I nodded at Dai when he looked my way and yelled a welcome with a thick Welsh accent.

My eyes ran over the table. He didn’t have Tizer. Shame, really. Greeting Eve at the end of the match with her half a Tizer would have been a nice touch.

Eve beelined for a couple standing by the halfway line, staying close to my side. One of the pair was obviously a player—sitting on the ground tying up their boots. The other, I’d have wagered good money wasn’t playing.

“Eve,” the one on the ground called happily when we were a couple of feet away. Their eyes lit up when they landed on me. “And friend!”

Eve laughed. “Fia, this is Hurley, our fly-half, and their wife Brooke. Andthisis Fia.”

I shook my head in amusement as Eve made easy work of both our bags to gesture wildly at me. “That’s not necessary,” I said, patting down the arm I could reach.

The three of them laughed and Eve’s hand found my back, resting comfortingly between my shoulder blades.

“It isveryniceto meet you,” Hurley said, their eyes bouncing excitedly between me and Eve.

“Eve doesn’t usually bring people to watch her play,” Brooke added, her accent clearly indicating she was from New Zealand.

“Is that right?” I asked, looking away from their speculative gazes. “Got enough fans showing up for you as is, Archer?”

Eve laughed and her thumb rubbed soothingly over my back. I was wearing layers but it felt like she was burning through them straight down into my skin, her essence being absorbed into me.

I was glad she didn’t seem eager to get rid of me the minute Kim’s wedding was done. I’d have happily stood out here watching a match every day of the year if it meant more time with her.

I’d been so desperate to know her back in school, to be part of the groups she interacted with. I hadn’t realised that, twenty years and numerous conversations later, it would feel all the sweeter to be the one she brought to watch her play.

Eve gestured around the pitch. “They show up for all of us.”

“Like hell they do,” Hurley barked with a laugh, holding a hand out to Brooke as they stood back up. “I swear it’s like you forget who you are sometimes.”

Eve groaned. “I know who I am.”

I leaned a little into her side. It was an odd thing seeing Eve flustered or embarrassed. She was always so sure of who she was—and rightly so—but, here, she obviously just thought of herselfas another player. Not a player with international acclaim and titles. Just a player, with her friends. I was glad she had that.