Not Just Another Boy

Chapter 5

I woke up the next morning for school, slightly dazed, and slightly confused. I had gotten home at about 1:00am, and after exchanging numbers and making out with Tom, he walked me to my door and said goodnight.

The cafe we went to was amazing. Funnily enough.... It wasn't Skerton Cafe.... Which I thought it would be. It was a little "all night" cafe called PARIS. Yes, all letters capitalised. I don't know why, but for some reason, Paris seems to be coming up a lot in regards to Tom and I. I got my dress from a Parisian shop, and we went to an all night cafe, called PARIS. Weird.

"I didn't expect you to bring me to a  

place like this" I said, when we had arrived.

"I know." He had said, giggling.  

"For some reason, everyone thinks I must only chill out at Nightclubs and Skerton Cafe when I'm not playing football, but, this is one of my favourite places. How cool is it? AN ALL NIGHT CAFE" He said cutely, taking a sip of his coffee.

As I looked around, it was quite cool. Just very unlike what I thought he would take me too. It was like a 7/11, just with more tables and chairs and lots of canvas' up on the wall of, you guessed it, Paris.

He told me he wasn't playing tomorrow's game, because that was a game for their new recruits to play. He said the first round of every season is called the "recruits" round, and the coaches make a mock team of all of their new recruits and seconds and people who struggle to get a game. That would explain why he's been drinking tonight, when Max told me he had a game tomorrow...

We talked forever. He impressed me with his listening skills. When I talked, he stopped everything and he listened. His piercing eyes looking straight into mine, into my soul.

I clung on to every word he said, thinking I might need it at some point.

"So, Tom Wright...." I said, after realising we had been talking about me for a while.

"So, Diana Richmond" he said, smirking.

"So, what's your story? Have you finished school? What did you do before soccer?" I asked, taking a sip of my tea.

"Yeah, well.... I'm a Lancaster boy, through and through. Born just round' this area too..." He said, signalling the area around our cafe.

"Well, i'll start with my childhood..." 

he said, seemingly slightly uncomfortable for the first time tonight.

"My dad's soccer mad. He always wanted to be a player himself. He wasn't though, he was a bricklayer. My Mum's a school teacher, primary kids. I have an older brother, Oliver too. He moved to Australia though. My Dad and mum fought constantly while I was growing up. My dad wanted to live his soccer dreams through me, so from the time I was 10, he'd spend at least two hours a night, rain or shine, making me practice in the backyard. We had goals, and a pretty big backyard. On rainy days he'd just sit under the patio and yell instructions at me. I always wanted to please him, ya know? I don't know why we all have this need to impress our parents, but I wanted to be this.... Player he thought I was." He stopped talking, looked at me and smiled.

"What?" I asked.

"You haven't fallen asleep yet?" He said, smiling.

"Haha, no! Please, tell the rest! I'm genuinely interested." I said, smiling.

He laughed, run his hand through his hair, and continued.

"Well, my mum was getting concerned as to how hard he was pushing me. As well as the two training sessions a week and one game, he had me out there every night for two hours or more, kicking the ball around. As I grew older, mum wanted me to do my homework, and Dad would command I kept practicing." He stopped for a moment and took a sip of coffee.