You Need Me

Wet Shoes

It's about half an hour after I collected my money now and I am just wiping my car down from all the dirt gathered onto it from the race.

No one else is in the garage and Kyle had to go home to his wife, so it's just me alone now.

My mood at the moment is as good as it can be at this point in time. I just won two and a half grand by winning an easy race, who couldn't be happy to be honest. That will pay all my bills for this month and it will help me with my food shopping.

I slowly wash one of the windows to my blue Porsche and watch the bubbles slowly trickle down the glass satisfyingly as they pop and froth and glide down to the bottom.

"Congratulations on the win." A scouse voice makes me drop my sponge onto the floor and trip over the bucket full of soapy water.

It soaks my shoes completely and I hold my hand over my heart startled from the lad making me jump. "Fucking hell, you made me jump." I breathe with a smile appearing on my face. It's Trent that stands in front of me but he has his hood up and a cap and sunglasses on to hide his identity. I suppose being a world famous football player can be tough with everyone who's anyone recognises you. He takes off his sunglasses and his eyes are wide in apology and surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. If I've ruined your shoes I can pay for new ones, it's no trouble." He rushes over and picks up the sponge and the now empty bucket and his eyes look worriedly at my black nikes.

"Trent, it's fine, just stop fussing please."

"Look, I've got some football boots in my car you can wear them if yous want and I may even have some socks I dunno..."

"Trent, stop," I giggle and Trent stands back up straight. I realise how much taller he actually is than me and he steps past me examining my car. "This baby cost me a fortune, two hundred and fifty thousand exactly, worth it though. Had so many memories in this thing too." I look down at my soaked trainers as I think of when I used to take Adam for fast drives round the track and it would scare the shit out of him.

"I bet. Why did it cost that much though?"

"It's a Porsche 959, nineteen eighty eight classic. I got it for a bargain too."

"Shitting hell."

"You can't really talk though, you may think that is a lot but it's practically what you earn in a month so." I joke and use my thumb to wipe off some stray dirt from the bonnet.

"Yes but I don't think you quite understand what us lads actually have to put up with being a professional footballer and all. The amount of hate, pressure and it's hard work."

"Your job is to play a game with a bunch of your best mates, what is there to complain about? The money is good, you get famous, see the world and most likely get a lot of girls."

"I can say the same about your job though. Parties, good money when you win, you can get sponsored to travel to different races round the world and I am sure a gorgeous girl such as yourself would have boys throwing themselves at you." Trent defends himself and I hold my hands up to say that I can't argue with his point.

"Can't say nothing to that, Trent." I shake my head in defeat and he has a satisfied smirk upon his face.

"So how fast does this thing go?" He changes the subject and runs his hand along the bonnet.

"Fast, I can take you for a spin sometime if you want?" I ask sounding quite hopeful and I lift my shoulders up and back down innocently.

"Yeah, I'll text you when I'm free. I'll be looking forward to it." He offers me a kind, honest smile and I manage to resist the urge to pump my fists in the air with joy.

"Same here." I smile back at him brightly and bounce back and forth on the balls of my feet.

"Are you walking home? Because I can drive ya, if ya want?"

"It's only round the corner. I usually walk back after a day at the track anyway, you don't have to."

"No I insist, plus your shoes are soaked so the least you can do is let me give you the dry boots and socks and then give you a lift home." Trent raises his eyebrows and sends me a convincing look.

"Fine alright, but it is like five minutes away." I give in and I lock up my rally car and make sure everything is in order.

Trent leads me all the way to his own car that is parked in the visitor car park and, like the gentlemen that he has proved himself to be so far, he opens the passenger door for me. I thank him and I plop down into the comfy seat. "I'll just get them socks and boots for you." He disappears and I hear him open the boot. The faint rustling of a bag can be heard and in no time he slams the boot shut and sits in the drivers seat holding a pair of black under armour football boots and white socks.

"Thank you so much." I take them off of him gratefully. I put them on and place the wet trainers onto my legs.

"Your welcome, it is my fault that your shoes are in the state that they are in," Trent chuckles and he starts the car and pulls out of the car park. "Where do you live?"

"Down on Weymouth Way in the block of flats at the end."

"Flipping heck, ain't it rough down that end?"

"Just a bit." I shrug my shoulders.

Silence settles between us and he slows down outside the flats I live in. "How far up do you live? I'll walk you up." He pulls out the keys and gets out of the car. I grab my shoes and do the same.

"Third floor."

"Come on then." He walks me up the stairs kindly and we stop outside my door.

"Thank you so much for driving me, and thank you for the shoes. Do you want them back?" I go to take them off but he stops me.

"No it gives me an excuse to see you again." Trent sends me a wink and I feel a weak blush perk up onto the surface of my cheeks.

"You'd best be off or that car of yours will have half the framework missing in a matter of seconds."

"You're probably right. I'll be in touch about that little drive that you have promised."

"Okay, Trent."

"Bye, bye gorgeous."

"Bye." He disappears off down the corridor back to his car and I enter my flat with a huge smile plastered to my face.

^

Hi guys,

Did you enjoy this chapter? Sorry that it is slightly shorter than usual.

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Daisy xxx