Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Dalmarnock Thistle.
They picked the wrong day to play against me.
BETH
The crowds’ roaring was so thunderous, it reverberated in my chest. It was a strange, slightly alarming sensation, like the threat of them going completely wild hung in the air. Baird’s sister, Ainsley, screamed right along with them while I dealt with the sensory overload.
People behind us chanted a song, pointing their fingers in beat toward the other side of the stadium where Dalmarnock fans sang a rude song back at them.
I focused on Callan.
His shirt was number 10. I knew this because I’d seen people out and about with Caley United shirts displaying KEEN and the number 10 on the back. It was surreal then. Even more so now since we were surrounded by thousands of people, many of whom were wearing Callan’s number.
He looked sexy as hell out there. Sweat shone on his forehead, and the socks that had been snowy white now had green stains from when he’d been tackled. I had not enjoyed watching that, but I did enjoy the intensity of his expression as he powered down the field. It reminded me of what he was like in the bedroom. My stomach flipped with excitement while my heart ached with pride as he dribbled the ball down the pitch at a speed that barely computed.
His control was unlike anything I’d ever seen. He dodged the Dalmarnock players easily, growing closer to the goal.
“John isn’t open!” Ainsley shouted frantically.
I wasn’t quite sure how football worked beyond each team trying to score a goal, so I took my cue from Ainsley. My gaze moved to John, who was blocked by the other team.
Callan saw and took the shot himself.
The ball soared into the back of the net as the goalie dove in the wrong direction.
The crowd behind me went wild as I grinned and clapped along with Ainsley. Callan was swept up into manly hugs from the Caley players, and my heart leapt at his grin of triumph.
“He’s quick, he’s class, he’s faster than the Flash, Callan Keen, Callan Keen!” The stands exploded into the chant, and my lips parted in amazement. Thousands of voices shouting for my boyfriend. Pride in their words. For him.
“Pretty awesome, ay?” Ainsley saw my expression and grinned.
I nodded, dumbfounded as I looked around at all their faces, lit with joy and belief.
I’d probably never truly be a football fan, but I felt and understood something in that moment that I hadn’t before.
The game brought all these people together and unified them. In a world that grew increasingly more divisive, that pitted neighbor against neighbor, sport brought whole communities together. Like music and books and TV were an escape for me, football was their escape.
And Callan gave them that. He and his team.
I looked back at my boyfriend as he ran down the field, chasing the ball.
“He’s quick, he’s class, he’s faster than the Flash, Callan Keen, Callan Keen!”
It had been his escape too. A place to land. To call home.
I hoped I was home to him now too.
Possessiveness roared through me at the thought.
“He’s quick, he’s class, he’s faster than the Flash, Callan Keen, Callan Keen!” Ainsley suddenly shouted with laughter in her eyes. She nudged me and I burst out into the chant too.
As if he heard me, Callan suddenly looked over at us.
I thought I saw a smile curl his mouth before he sped up on the pitch and snuck behind the Dalmarnock player who had the ball. He stole it from him with a finesse I marveled at, and the chanting grew louder. This time, John was open. Callan passed it, the ball soaring through the air and landing at John’s feet. It was like a dance, the way John caught the ball with ease and then volleyed it into the back of the net.
The stadium exploded as Ainsley and I jumped into each other’s arms, screaming in elation.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CALLAN
“We need Beth in those stands every fucking week if that’s the way you’re going to play, mate!” Baird squeezed my shoulders as we strode toward the locker room. The team was hooting and whistling, vibrating with energy from the win against an opponent no one thought we could beat.
I laughed, a bit abashed. Because I couldn’t lie that even though I promised to block her from my mind, my gaze went to her throughout the game, and seeing her chanting for me, jumping up and down with Ainsley … it was the best motivation a bloke could get.
The locker room was a cacophony of good-natured name-calling and banter as we broke the game down to its pivotal parts. We shut up when the gaffer and coaches strolled in to congratulate us. “This could be a turning point, lads,” the gaffer said, visibly proud. “Now they know we mean business and we’re here to make history in Scottish football.”