At least the paps weren’t here. They didn’t know Vincent would be playing today, and they clearly thought a charity match for kids wasn’t a ripe breeding ground for scandal.
“Calling your brother to play a match with his rival-slash-your secret lover is a boss move,” Brooklyn whispered. “You have balls. I respect it. You deserve a feature story in
Mode de Vie.”
Carina giggled while I fought an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want a feature story in
Mode de Vie or any other outlet. I just want to?-“
“Bone your man all the way to Sunday and back again?” Brooklyn tossed me a devilish grin. “Understandable.””Totally understandable.” Carina leaned over me to give the American a high five. “You have a way with words, Brook.”
“Thank you.” Brooklyn beamed. “I try.”
I scowled. “You know what? I’m sorry I introduced you guys.
This”-I gestured to the both of them as they laughed at my expense-“is unacceptable.”
As I predicted, Carina and Brooklyn instantly hit it off when they met in person last night. I figured they would, but part of me had worried Carina would feel weird about me introducing someone new into our tight-knit duo. However, they took to each other like ducks to water.
Unfortunately, that meant they sometimes ganged up on me, which I did not appreciate.
“Aw, you know we love you.” Carina tossed an arm around my shoulders. “Would we be real friends if we didn’t take the piss out of you for your soap opera of a life?”
“Yeah, some of our lives are boring. We have to live vicariously through you.” Brooklyn crossed her legs, the picture of effortless cool with her high ponytail, gold hoops, and giant sunglasses. “The only thing that would make today more interesting is if Asher and Vincent got into a fight.
Not that they would,” she said when I blanched. “No one wants to derail a charity match for kids. It’s bad press.”
“Don’t even put that thought out there.” I eyed the pitch again. Asher and Vincent were still ignoring each other, thank God. “It could very well happen.”
“If it does, whose side would you be on?” Carina asked Brooklyn. “Team Asher or Team Vincent?”
The blond wrinkled her nose. “No team. I like the sport, not the players. They’re way too full of themselves.”
It was a quintessentially Brooklyn answer. We’d texted constantly since the night we met, but I still didn’t know much about her. I knew she grew up in California, she was an aspiring nutritionist, and she could rock a ponytail like no other, but that was about it. She had an impressive talent for carrying on a full conversation without revealing anything about herself.
“I agree,” I said. “Take it from someone who’s related to one.
Way too full of themselves.”
Carina arched an eyebrow. “This coming from the girl dating a player.”
“Well…” I caught Asher’s eye when he scanned the crowd, his gaze skimming over the different sections until it found me. A thousand fluttering wings filled my chest. “He’s different.”
My friends let out good-natured groans, but I didn’t care. The world narrowed to pools of intense green and the heat of Asher’s stare. Electricity buzzed to life between us, slipping beneath my skin and setting every nerve ending on fire.
We couldn’t do much with my brother and a thousand other people present, but we didn’t need to. It wasn’t about what we said or did; it was about what we felt.
Then, right before the teams finished their warm-ups, Asher grinned and winked. It happened so fast I would’ve missed it had I not already been looking at him, but it was enough. The thousand wings multiplied into a million, and I couldn’t keep an answering grin off my face as the players took their places for kickoff.
When I finally looked away, my friends were staring at me with amusement.
“It’s so sweet it’s disgusting,” Brooklyn said. “I want it.”
“I don’t,” Carina said. “I’d never get any work done.”
“So real.”
I pointedly stayed out of their conversation, which petered out as the match started.
We screamed and cheered for the Reds and groaned when the Greens scored a goal. The players were a mix of top-level professionals and hobbyists. It made for an uneven match at times, but the crowd’s enthusiasm and the buzzy atmosphere was so much fun that no one seemed to mind.
It was also the first match where we saw what Asher and Vincent were capable of when they weren’t at each other’s throats. Maybe it was the relatively low stakes or the fact they were playing for charity. Whatever it was, they played so well together that the Reds dominated the first half. The combination of Asher’s offense and Vincent’s defense resulted in two goals that roused the stadium into a fit of pandemonium.
Then disaster struck.
Less than a minute into the second half, one of the Reds fouled one of the Greens. The Green player crumpled to the ground, and the cheers cut off so abruptly it was like someone had pressed mute on a thousand people.
The two sides swarmed the ref, their hands gesticulating wildly as they argued with the stern-faced man. I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, but no one looked happy.
Asher and Vincent wore matching scowls, and after maybe a minute of heated discussion, the ref shook his head. He’d made his decision.
Greens got a penalty kick.
Someone helped the injured player off the pitch, and there was another small commotion when the Greens indicated they were subbing in a new player.
I squinted, trying to make out the new player’s face.
When I did, my heart plummeted to my toes. A cold sensation crawled down my throat and filled my lungs.
“No fucking way.” Carina verbalized my sentiments exactly. She grabbed my arm, her eyes the size of dinner plates.
I hadn’t seen the sub during warm-ups. I didn’t know why he was at the match or why he was in London, period, but there was no mistaking that dark hair or cocky smile.
My stomach curdled with disbelief as he jogged onto the pitch.
Of all the people who could’ve subbed in for the injured Green player, it had to be him. Rafael Pessoa. My ex-boyfriend.
Asher and Vincent’s heads snapped toward him like lions sensing prey. Their bodies went rigid, and identical shadows darkened their faces.
Oh, no. Oh nononono.
“This is not good,” Carina said. “This is not good at all.”
Brooklyn’s brow puckered. She didn’t know about Rafael, so she had no clue why we were freaking out. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Well.” My mouth tasted like pennies. “I think you’re going to get that fight you were hoping for.”
ASHER
“What is he doing here?” Vincent spat from his spot beside me.
I wasn’t sure who he was talking to since he wasn’t aware I knew about Scarlett and Rafael, but I replied with the obvious anyway.
“He’s the sub.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.