When Fools Rush In

Chapter 14 - The Old Kit Room

The morning did come too soon. Lucy couldn't remember how she had managed to get under the duvet covers after she'd fallen asleep wrapped around Jack on top of the bed, but she guessed Jack must have pulled the covers over them both and closed the curtains at some point, as the inky light of early dawn was beginning to leak into the room from behind them. Jack was fast asleep on his back, his hair sprawled on the pillow under him. Lucy gazed at him longingly for several minutes, stroking his shoulder. He didn't flinch.

Turning to her phone on the bedside cabinet, she saw it was 6.45am, nearly time to get up for work anyway. She knew Jack wouldn't need to be at the Etihad until mid morning, so she quietly picked up her phone to scroll lazily through it in order to wake herself up properly before she snuck out of bed.

To her annoyance, she found herself scrolling down the sidebar of shame on Mail Online. She hated the Daily Mail, although she got on well with Ian Ladyman, their football editor. Beyond football, she found the journalism poor and error strewn, but one of her guilty pleasures was finding out what random Z-list celebrities were up to at any given time.

As usual, the stories were banal and she could feel her IQ dropping by several points as she sleepily scrolled through, the light of her phone in the dark room making her squint.

Lucy did a double take at one of the headlines.

"BACK ONSIDE? Jack Grealish's girlfriend Serena Atkins shares cryptic story on Instagram after Southgate's subbing disaster"

Lucy's heart sank, her stomach tying itself in knots. As far as she was aware, Serena was Jack's ex-girlfriend; they had parted ways after the Euros and she had returned home to Birmingham. She had yet to discuss her with Jack, but she had seen no obvious trace of her around the flat. So why were the Mail calling her his girlfriend?

She clicked on the story. Serena had shared a story just twelve hours ago of a video of Jack at the Albania match, walking angrily off the pitch when Gareth had subbed him. Serena had left the following caption: "unfair substitution! Don't worry #JackGrealish we can fight back next time!" followed by three blue hearts.

The article was short, merely speculating what the story meant, with one 'source' being quoted as saying: "Serena and Jack go back years, she continues to support him every time he plays, they're still friends so who knows what will happen next."

Lucy had never looked at Serena's profile on Instagram. She had never had any reason to. But she did now. It wasn't particularly interesting - there were many paid partnership posts with B&M, Boohoo, Home Bargains and some other fairly average brands Lucy had barely heard of. There were many make up related posts, and some of her dog, but she couldn't find any photos of her and Jack from the previous twelve months. The story from the article was still up, bookended by bland videos of buying coffee and throwing a stick at the dog. It was puzzling but Lucy felt uncomfortable. What was Jack up to? Was he still with Serena? Had he been seeing her at all? Was he hiding something from her?

Feeling deflated, Lucy decided to put her phone down and creep out of the bedroom. She padded down the hallway to the kitchen, the morning light pouring through the large glass windows. It was a dull morning, clouds scurrying across the inky sky on a strong wind. She needed to busy herself while her head began to whir, so she began unloading the dishwasher which was full of the pots and pans she'd used to cook yesterday's dinner.

To her surprise, Jack appeared just minutes later, his bed hair sticking up, his eyes half shut with sleep. He'd wrapped a white dressing gown around him. Lucy tried to ignore how delectable he looked.

"Hey bab," he greeted, his voice deep and husky, "you're up early."

"Work," said Lucy, her head facing away from him as she placed glasses in the cupboard above her, "I've got meetings from nine this morning."