Golden [ #2 EFS ] ✓

Matchweek Four: Aston Villa vs. Liverpool

**A quick update before I go to school.**

[Middle by DJ Snake ft Bipolar Sunshine]

Chapter Four

T R E N T

I CAN'T STOP THE SMILE that graced my face, even as I sit across from Tyler at some fancy restaurant. All I can think about it Samara's naked body pressed against my own as I make sweet love to her. It's been two days since I had sex with her in her office. Two long days of living with her memory. I haven't even thought about Michelle until Tyler brought it up, bur still, it didn't dampen my mood that much.

When I woke up this morning, I had a million missed calls and texts from Tyler. I didn't head into training yesterday because I still didn't think I was ready to be on the field yet. I only had two therapy session and we only made actual progress in one... unless you count the first one. However, I have every intent to head into training today because I want to be at least on the bench for the next game, or maybe even start.

I snap out of my thoughts when Tyler calls my name with a worried expression on his face. "You haven't even touched your food yet."

I glance down at the plate. Tyler ordered roasted chicken with a different array of vegetables in a salad. He wants me to start eating healthy to get back into shape for the season. I think that I am in good shape, especially after the workout I just had the other day. I've been pushing the chicken around the plate for the past ten minutes or so because, honestly, its dry and doesn't taste good. Nothing will ever taste good to me after I've tasted Samara. Her sweet and salty taste is scorned on my tongue and I don't think that I can ever forget it.

"The chickens dry." I offer, shrugging.

"Okay, so how's therapy? Ms Witmoore treating you well?" He asks and my lips curve into a smile.

"Its good and Ms Witmoore is taking excellent care of me."

Images of her perfect tits and cunt flash through my mind and I can feel myself growing in my jeans. Its probably not a good idea to get a hard on in a restaurant.

"You sound much more enthusiastic about therapy. I honestly thought that you would have stopped attending by now."

If my therapist was anyone but Ms Samara Witmoore, than I might have.

"I figured I'd give it a chance, and it seems to be working."

A pleased smile grows on his lips. "That's good to hear. Once the Football Association revives the report on you, you'll be psychologically cleared to play in Monday's game."

"Wait, psychologically cleared?"

I had no idea that my career depended on that one report. If I knew then I would have spent my recent session speaking about my problems like a mature person instead of watching my therapist get herself off on me. Why wasn't I informed of this earlier?

"Yes, we were emailed this morning by the Football Association. But everything should be fine since you're attending therapy like you're supposed to."

He's right there; I have been attending like I'm supposed to. But both, Samara and I, haven't been doing what we are supposed to.

"You have been doing what you're supposed to, right?" He asks, noticing the panic on my face.

"Uhm... y-yeah." I stutter our, clearing my throat. "I've already been there twice."

"Okay then, I won't hold you back. You should probably head on out for training. You'll want to be prepared for when the FA psychologically clear you."