The Beautiful Game

Chapter Forty-Two - Carter

My body is aching and my arm is dead, but I couldn't care less. Lou's head is still resting there, snuggled into my side as she breathes deep and evenly.

We'd talked for what felt like hours, and I'd learnt that her favourite colour was purple; but not like an ostentatious purple, no, it was the purple of the sky after a storm, the sun illuminating the thick clouds. I'd told her my favourite colour was blue, and she'd responded with: 'just blue?' So I'd said no, it was the blue on a clear summers day, when you look straight up into the depthless sky.

I never talked like that, but around her I did, in the privacy of our dark hotel room. To be honest, my first thought had been no, the colour of your eyes, which was startling close to the description anyway. But I'd stopped myself, because that was fucking crazy talk.

I'd learned that her favourite song was Jackson by June Carter and Johnny Cash, I told her that mine was All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix. Her favourite food was pepperoni pizza, and so was mine. She was scared of spiders, earthquakes and eggplants; when I'd asked her to explain that last one, she'd simply said it was a long story.

She'd laughed so hard when I'd revealed my fear of clowns, gasping for breath as she said that it was irrational, how many times did you bump into a clown? I'd said that was the point, you didn't know, and then one day, boom, random clown.

I'd countered by asking just how rational was a fear of eggplants anyway? Then she'd told me the story and I wish I'd never fucking asked.

She'd never seen the ocean; that had shocked me, but I guess growing up in a modest, single parent household with three siblings it made sense. I'd almost suggested we take a trip, imagining seeing her face as she saw it for the first time, swimming in it with her; but again, that was fucking crazy talk.

It's four in the morning and I need to be up in four hours, ready to meet the team for breakfast and game debrief before travelling home. I wanted longer. It felt like we were in a bubble, some sort of twilight zone where the barrier had come down between us in the foreignness of the quiet hotel room. I wasn't quite ready for us to go back to what we'd been before.

I groan in pain at the throb in my knee and she shifts, waking and looking up at me with sleep filled eyes. Without saying a word, she stands and heads over to the bag containing the pain relief, glancing at the time on her phone and nodding as she popped the capsules into her hand.

I take them from her gratefully, knocking them back with a drink of water. She climbs back onto the bed, careful not to lean on my tender body as she lies back down beside me.

"Sorry." I reach over to squeeze her hand.

"Don't apologise. God, those guys really did a number on you today. Has that happened before?" The rasp in her voice is stronger with the after affect of sleep, it warms my chest.

"Not as bad as that, no. Coach will probably go off in the morning, a break in the line shouldn't have happened the way it did."

A few minutes pass between us in comfortable silence, the minimal light from outside casts a glow to her profile, the glimmer of her eyes in the dark as we stare at each other.

"We should go back to sleep." She says softly.

"We should." I say before leaning towards her and touching her mouth with my own. She gasps as she moves away.

"Carter, no- your injuries, it's irresponsible."

"I don't want to be responsible right now." I lean back towards her, chasing her lips. They're soft and warm as they open for me. Her tongue is delicate and oh so sweet as it brushes against my own eager one. I don't want to think about myself right now, I want to think about the kind, thoughtful girl in bed with me. I want to make her feel good, and chase away anything that ever makes her feel anything less.