Gold Rush

His Sophie

Friday Night

J - I've sorted a car to pick you up from yours, 8pm tonight. No arguments x
S - I hate surprises with a passion, J! x
J - Jus trust me. Nice surprises only x
S - I'll be ready ❤️
J - 😘

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Sophie had spent the last month or so lost in a haze of audits, research and looking at training development. Paperwork was a massive downfall of her role, she wanted nothing more than to be dealing with the team directly and it was drastically impacting her mood. But being one of the small cogs in the Manchester City machine required commitment and time.

She'd barely seen her friends, her flat and more importantly, she'd not physically laid hands on Jack for at least 3 weeks. They'd exchanged FaceTimes, texts and the occasional secret teenager style snog-come-grope at the Etihad.

Her hormones were in turmoil and that throbbing feeling just below her hips was almost painful, torturous in fact. His eager eyes were always on her, but they couldn't catch that time alone that they so desperately needed.

Pep may aswell be physically breathing down their necks. He'd been working the team hard, having the lads training early hours until late at night and Sophie felt she may as well be permanently attached to the office chair with the MacBook mouse glued to her palm.

The time had come for international break and with that, many of the City senior team were  expected to travel down to St George's Park to be under the watchful eye of Gareth Southgate and the England management team.
She longed for Jack, ached for him, and she felt truly pathetic for it.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the harsh office phone ringing beside her, it was Kate, informing her that the two of them along with Jamie the physio had been called for a meeting with Pep himself and the medical director.
This was extremely rare.
Sophie locked her desktop and headed up to the office based on the third floor where she found Kate and Jamie also hurriedly making the journey upstairs.

'Shit.. what do you think they want us for?' Jamie quizzed, with a hint of panic in his voice.
'Maybe we're getting a pay rise' Kate said enthusiastically.
The trio exchanged glances and scoffed at the very thought of increased wages.

They paused outside the room, Sophie knocked firmly, wanting to get it over with.
The door quickly opened, they were faced with a (thankfully) soft featured Pep, as apposed to his usual mask of annoyance and looking slightly pained.

'Guys, come in, come in'

Steve, the medical director acknowledged the three of them as they sat down.

'Don't look so worried! It's all good' Pep spoke with his hands, palms out in-front of him pushing the thin air downwards, as if to calm them down.

Steve cleared his throat, 'Listen, we will make it quick. Basically, the FA have reached out to multiple clubs. They've had particularly bad staffing issues with the England medics and physios. Some long term sickness amongst other things.. err..'

Pep swiftly took over, 'Do you all want to follow the boys on international duty? It will be good continuation and comfort for the City players, and also working with others, different injuries, new environment..'

'No pressure at all, I know you may have had plans for the break.. some much earned and well deserved time off.' Steve continued 'We just have to ask'.

Jamie looked at Kate, Kate to Sophie, Sophie to Jamie.
They were all thinking the same thing and promptly jumped at the opportunity.

'Just bring those boys back in one piece!' Pep warned, 'but enjoy, yes', and he waved them away.

Steve followed the group to the office door, 'You travel Monday, England admin will be in touch with more information.'

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7.30pm

Sophie stood at the end of her bed analysing her outfit choice.

A black blazer dress with a flattering lace trim, a tonne of 'tit tape' to hold up her braless boobs, a black cushioned shoulder bag, completed with black patent Louboutin's. She had worn these perhaps twice, they were an unexpected graduation present from her mum years ago.
She would likely end up resembling bambi on ice, but she so desperately wanted to look 'good' for him.
For Jack.

Her stomach flipped at the mere thought of seeing him out in the wild, in a non-work environment again.
She felt sick. Feral.
Nerves, hunger, longing, anticipation?
All of the above.

Once dressed, Sophie positioned herself in the full length mirror.
She'd scooped her dark locks into a sophisticated low bun at the nape of her neck, letting wispy strands of hair fall next to her ears.
Thick black winged lines grazed over her eyelids, she'd opted for dramatic smokey eye make up, paired with a slightly dark nude lip.
It felt good to properly dress up.
For her.
For him.
For Jack.

The bitter taste of acid crept up to her windpipe.
That goddamn sick feeling again.
She quickly sourced a cream cracker from the kitchen cupboard in an attempt to stifle the nausea.

Sophie heard the intercom ring out at the door of her flat, she answered to a muffled male voice, which she could just about make out.

God this system really needed an upgrade.

'Miss Rhodes?'
'Hello, yes speaking'
'Ah, Good evening, It's Imran, Mr Grealish's driver'
'Imran! Great thank you, I will make my way down now.'

She quickly swatted at her blazer-dress, brushing away the remains of cracker crumbs.
Fresh application of lipstick.
Spray of deodorant. Spritz of perfume.
Bag. Phone. Purse.

Sanity?
Nah.
——————————

Jack smothered himself in his trademark musky scent and layered his neck firstly with a plain silver chain, then confidently added a long length chain with a silver cross dangling at the end. His chunky rings of course, were already in situ.
Jack knew he looked good, he slicked his gelled hands through his thick, almost brunette hair, sweeping it back away from his face. He was wearing black, slightly ripped skinny jeans teamed with a black and white Louis Vuitton shirt.

He couldn't wait to see her.
His Sophie.

It had been such a joke recently, neither of them could sneak away longer than 5 minutes without being summoned by colleagues and team mates.

FaceTime wasn't enough. His hand felt like it was going to fuckin' drop off at this point.
He wanted to spoil her, to make her feel special.
Cos she was.

He'd dodged Jen's phone calls and persistent messages, even though he'd been bloody desperate some nights.
Just hungry to blow off steam and get rid of this intense energy.

But that wasn't him anymore.
No more stringing anyone along.
No more late night 'wya' or 'u up' texts.
Literally the bare minimum was needed with these desperate girls in his inbox.

But he needed her.