The locker room smells like sweat and disinfectant, the kind of scent that's as familiar as the game itself. The boys are all hyped, the usual chatter filling the air, but I'm not as loud as usual. My mind is focused. Today's game matters. We're up against Harrowsford, one of the toughest teams in the league, and if we win today, it'll put us in a great position for the finals. I want that. We need that.
I pull on my boots, tighten the laces, then adjust my kit. I'm the captain, and it's my job to make sure the lads are ready, that they're focused. I glance around the room, seeing my teammates prepping in their own ways. Some are pacing, some are already talking tactics, others are just lost in thought. Julian's being Julian—loud, annoying, and relentless.
"Oi, Joey," he calls out, walking over to me with a grin that tells me he's about to be a pain in the arse. "I saw Delilah in the stands"
I don't look up. "What's your point?"
"Oh, nothing," he says, his grin widening as he flops down next to me. "Just thought you'd like to know, seeing as how she's been on your mind lately."
I roll my eyes. "Shut it, Julian."
But I can feel my cheeks heat up, and I know damn well he's not wrong. Delilah has been on my mind more than I care to admit. And, yeah, I probably don't need Julian pointing it out in front of the team.
Julian snickers, clearly enjoying winding me up. "I'm just saying, mate, you might want to impress her today. You know, maybe keep your temper in check."
I give him a sidelong glance. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh, nothing," he says, his grin almost wicked now. "Just remember, Delilah's a sensitive soul. Don't go scaring her off with that 'tough guy' act of yours."
I narrow my eyes at him, but he's already moving on to another topic, teasing someone else across the room. It's not the first time he's noticed something, and I'll admit, he's got a point.
Coach walks in then, cutting through the banter like a knife through butter. Everyone falls silent, turning towards him as he stands at the front of the room. Coach's presence demands it. He's built like a wall, his face a permanent mask of intensity.
"Alright, lads," Coach starts, his voice low and gravelly. "Today's the big one. Harrowsford's not to be underestimated. They're tough, they're fast, and they play dirty. We've got a game plan, and we're going to stick to it. Joey, you're running the midfield today. I need you controlling the pace. Don't let them bully you—make the hard yards, set the example."
I nod, locking eyes with him. "Got it, Coach."
He looks around the room at the rest of the team, making sure we all understand. "The forwards are going to need you to bring the ball up quick, but the backs need to be ready to support. Julian, stay sharp on the wing—if they're going to make a break, you'll be the one to shut it down. If we work as a unit, we'll take them down. We're faster, we're stronger, and we've got heart. Get out there and show them who's boss."
The room erupts in cheers and claps as we all get pumped up. I'm already feeling the adrenaline building up in my veins, my body buzzing with anticipation. I've got one job today: win.
Coach slaps me on the back before he walks out, leaving us to suit up. I grab my jersey, pull it over my head, and make my way to the door.
The moment I step onto the pitch, the crowd noise hits me. The air's thick with tension, the kind you only get when something big is about to happen. I can hear the Harrowsford players warming up across the field, their shouts and laughter carrying over to us. But my eyes are scanning the stands. I know exactly where Delilah is.
There. In the middle section, sitting with Olivia and Charlotte.
For a split second, my heart skips a beat. I didn't expect her to be here today. But there she is, looking around like she's still figuring out where she belongs. When our eyes meet, I feel this pull—something unexplainable. Then I remember last night. The way I spoke to Sean. The way she looked at me, disappointed. I didn't regretted it because I don't like the lad. But the second the words left my mouth, and I saw the look in her face, I regretted that I did it in front of her. And now, here she is, watching me.
I'm standing at the sideline, doing stretches with the rest of the team, but my focus is all over the place. Delilah's gaze is still on me. I wonder if she's still upset. It wasn't right, the way I spoke to Sean like that. And she definitely didn't deserve to see it.
I glance back at her, and for a second, our eyes lock again. She doesn't smile, but she doesn't look away either. It's like she's waiting for me to do something—anything—that shows I'm not just some jerk on the field.
I can't help but feel guilty, but the whistle blows, cutting my thoughts short. Time to focus.
"Let's go, Joey!" Julian calls from the other side of the field, waving his arms.
I give him a thumbs-up, trying to shake the lingering thoughts about Delilah out of my head. The game's about to start, and I need to be in the right headspace. But as I step onto the pitch, taking my place alongside the team, I can't shake the feeling that today might be the day I need to prove something—not just to the team, but to Delilah too.
The match kicks off, and the game begins with all the intensity I've been craving. But in the back of my mind, I can't stop thinking about that look in her eyes from yesterday.
