In the Game of Love

Chapter 15

A kaleidoscope of light dances off sequined gowns, gleaming cufflinks, and crystal chandeliers. Somehow, I managed to get through the initial round of introductions, and now we've moved on to small talk. I am trying my best to be attentive, but Sonny's words are still echoing in my mind.

Girlfriend.

It's a big word, both terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. Sort of like skydiving. Not that I've ever tried skydiving. I'm the last person on earth to do something like that on my own volition.

A round of laughter breaks my trance. I blink, realizing I've been staring blankly at Premier League royalty Harry Kane – the Harry Kane – for an uncomfortably long moment.

Any other time I would be fangirling so hard, literally losing my mind in presence of these men I've admired and adored for so many years. But Sonny stole the lightening today. Even if I wasn't putting on an act, that I'm not a Spurs fan, I don't think I could gush and simper at my current state of mind.

'Finally Sonny brings a date to one of these things,' Ben Davies chuckles, his Welsh lilt warm and teasing. 'Cor blimey, has hell frozen over?'

Sonny says nothing, a bashful smirk playing on his lips as he avoids direct eye contact. He looks just like a boy when he's like that.

'Sonny talks so highly of all of you, I just had to meet everyone in person. So, I begged him to bring me along,' I rejoinder, giving them my most winning smile.

Where did that come from? I surprise myself sometimes.

Well, at least it's not a complete lie for what it's worth.

'Trust me, we're not that special. Half of us can barely tie our own shoelaces,' Fraser Forster guffaws, his imposing height belying his self-deprecating humor.

'Speak for yourself', Harry interjects with a grin. 'Some of us are quite good at basic motor skills.'

Another wave of laughter erupts at the playful banter. A steady flow of alcohol and hors d'oeuvres facilitate the cheerful mood, although a lot of players opt for plain seltzer, presumably due to fitness reasons.

The music continues to boom, the band now playing more upbeat tunes. The chatter in the room has gotten even louder than before if possible. I spot a cockerel shaped ice sculpture in the center of the room. Was that there this whole time?

It's like an entirely different world from everything I know. We have parties at my work – parties that might even be considered lavish given the elite status of our company in the corporate hierarchy. But at the end of the day we are just office workers, toiling away at our nine-to-fives, and no amount of revelry can disguise that fact. But here, these people, they are not like us. They seem to be born for the high life. They are so...glamourous.

Handsome and fit footballers parading their avant-garde fashion, with statuesque women in flawless makeup hanging on their arms. These women, the WAGs, 'Wives-And-Girlfriends' of pro athletes – they are stunning. Their laughter tinkles like glass, their movements graceful and self-assured.

Wait a second.

Am I a...WAG...now?

The thought makes me stifle a giggle.

I am nothing like these women, with their perfect tan and perfect hair, ready to participate in Love Island on a day's notice. Personally, I'm more likely to take part in Jeopardy given my proclivity for useless trivia.

Self-consciousness washes over me like a cold wave. I glance down at my dress, feeling like an imposter in borrowed finery. My feet already ache in these heels, my nails are unmanicured and cut short for convenience, I have barely any jewelry on other than the diamond studs my dad got me for graduation – I don't fit in here, do I?