Broken Defence by Volunteer_,Volunteer_

Slightly different story from me here – this is a one and done story.

Content warning: this story hints at and sometimes directly addresses some of the following themes: self harm, bullying, cyber bullying, suicidal thoughts.

I hope to have done the subject matter justice but please proceed with that warning in mind.

This is a slow burn, which means you won’t be getting much sex at all for the first few pages. It’ll be worth it, I hope.

All characters where sex is referenced are over 18.

Volunteer

***

I finished my pint of San Miguel while looking at the message on my phone and cursing my life decisions. Dramatic I know, particularly after I read the text again on the way out of the pub, mind less clouded by lager.

Diane Tannar: Tom, get the team together and get to the training ground by 7 am tomorrow. Busy day ahead.

What team? I thought. Georgia was a press assistant who did work way above her pay grade because I didn’t have the time or energy to do it. Alf, our photographer, was on retainer and would turn up whenever he heard the sound of our chequebook oxidising. More so, what ground? The ground we shared with a men’s team that didn’t share our name, our kit, our culture or our belief that women’s football, or soccer depending on where you were, was a growing industry? The early start was precisely because they’d negotiated unfavourable but financially beneficial terms to let us train there.

I drove my Hyundai into the training complex the next day, waved through by the security guard who had seen my acid gaze enough recently. Georgia sat next to me, old enough to drive but I didn’t pay her well enough to afford to learn. Alf sat in the back, taking the car ride as a further means of payment and serving as a reminder of how desperate we truly were for some investment and a proper team.

Georgia and Alf had spent most of the drive speculating on what we were being dragged in for. Once the coffee kicked in, I joined them. I gave no hint of my cynicism, that would be a dangerous game when the job of you and your team is to excite, inspire and grow the fanbase. I wasn’t always cynical, it mostly reared its head when I was blindsided or facing the unknown… or reflecting on bad decisions made years earlier. That’s what I had found myself doing the night before and the echoes of those thoughts still left a bitter taste the following morning.

I helped Alf get his kit out of the back but this was more so I could trail in last. I always though that was the best place to be when it came to a surprise or bad news: last to be seen, first to recover. The good news about sharing the training complex is that we had some of our own offices. It allowed the men’s team and their fully stocked comms, marketing and press team, to gloat about their work in ‘grassroots and women’s football.” Lovely. Still, it was an improvement on where we were 5 years ago when I got into the sport.

Diane, our Club Director walked out of her office beaming when she saw us. Christ, we’ve been sold to some prick who wants to get his daughter on the team, was my instant reaction. I locked my cynical thought away quickly.

Behind her walked a smartly suited older man, all moustache and cologne who was our occasional lawyer. You know the type: the one that goes to get his wife perfume at a department store for Christmas, buys his mistress a necklace and forgets to get the perfume. He looked like he wanted to be stupid rich but couldn’t quite make it. If he was hanging around woman’s football, he never would.

Then it happened. We saw why Moustache was here and why Diane was smiling like she had won first prize in the lottery. In a way, she had. It was just the ticket that nobody currently wanted.

Last to be seen, first to recover. Georgia gasped and Alf whooped at the sight. I nodded, having already collected my emotions – a tough ask, given how conflicted and intense they were at that moment.

“Look who flew over from Portland to sign with us! May I present Holly Dane!” Diane needed to do more work on her pre-hype for the press later but her enthusiasm was certainly there. “We’re delighted she’s able to join us, she’ll bring a wealth of experience and quality at an International level, for our first season in the Women’s top flight.” All through Diane’s quote-heavy speech, my eyes remained on Holly. I felt my breath stick in my throat and it was causing a pile-up of air. I looked away just as her hazel eyes found mine. I looked back at her again just as quickly and saw she was looking away.

Now, I’m not the best at understanding body language. As you’ll come to find out shortly, I’m even worse at reading the room. But I could see that Holly wasn’t excited by this. How could she be?

“Why aren’t you getting this down, Tom?”

“Georgia’s on it, I’m…. drinking it in,” I replied. Holly looked over at me just as I glanced over at Georgia. Mercifully, Georgia had been scribbling away. This was big for us.

We finally caught eyes and I saw no hint of recognition in hers. She was big time. I was the man holding down the equivalent of 3 jobs in an underfunded football team, with a boss that wanted me to behave like the Nike or Gatorade commercial coordinators that our new Superstar was more familiar with. I was a journalist who took a liking to working in Football and found a job where I’d have creative control over the website, press and communications. It was supposed to be liberating but it was often just tiring and frustrating.

When you work in media, there are several tools that you can use to help you do your job. One of those allows you to flag the mention of keywords in articles. We’d had ours set up for a number of words and anything published by the press with those words would be flagged to us, giving us an instant link to that article. We had the usual “England” “women/woman” “soccer” and “footballer” and that could sometimes lead to hours of scrolling, especially if a tournament was on. It was worth our while though – it was always better to seek out inappropriate or unfair articles than to presume they didn’t exist and get called out for them later.

A few weeks ago, it was a surprise to see a higher than normal amount of articles containing those keywords, mostly coming out of America. Often when those articles come up, they’re positive. But with the rise of cybercrime over the last few years, it felt prudent to also look out for words like ‘nude’ and ‘sex tape’. I felt my heart drop when I saw articles linked to both words too. If any of those articles had applied to one of our players, I would be straight on the phone with Diane and that would be the rest of my day spent doing crisis comms. They didn’t. They applied to Holly.

There was a home video taken on a phone. It was of her performing oral sex quite vigorously with someone the press knew as her boyfriend. From what I could see of the articles, once I filtered out a lot of the misogynistic noise, it was a short video that was quite damaging. I felt for Holy and I felt for the press team at the soccer club (as it was there), despite how many more staff they had to call on. Last year, two of our players were caught fooling around in the changing room by a degenerate photographer who preyed on us not having the security personnel to keep him away. It had been released onto a number of porn sites after the newspapers decided not to publish it and I spent a good amount of the next 48 hours trying to get it down. All while the two women in question prepared to go back to their respective boyfriend and girlfriend to explain it away. So I felt for the press team and I felt for Holly. She didn’t deserve that.

I found the video later in the afternoon. You might think me sick that I sought it out once I tell you of our history, but it was a necessary part of the job to be sure nobody else was in it. Besides, you would have found me no sicker than I felt as I watched Holly in the 3-minute video, blonde hair in that famous tight ponytail. I watched with nausea as she licked, sucked and pleasured the hard dick with the enthusiasm and skill of an actual pornstar. I thought it couldn’t get worse after the first minute or so but that was before he started to roughly fuck her face, pulling her ponytail out until her hair was wild and loose, sticking to her face. The video ended with her jerking his cum onto her face and outstretched tongue. She was undeniably gorgeous so the video trended fast, watched by people who weren’t even familiar with her.

What was worse was the fallout afterwards. I’d watched from afar with increasing horror as articles started to appear about Holly’s breakup and the leak of the video thereafter. Holly was as fearless off the field as she was on it. Of course she was going to confront her ex. Of course it would earn her a restraining order, that path was sealed the second the comments had started to come through on her Instagram. She had been slut-shamed for what she had done in that video and then she was punished for her reaction to it.

So I knew Holly wasn’t here through the love of our newly-promoted team. She was here because nobody else would touch her right now and we needed her quality and her celebrity more than we feared her controversy. Any guesses who would be taking over from that big team in Portland who were responsible for rebuilding her image? Lucky for Diane, I had built such an insurmountable image of Holly in my brain over the last few years, there was not going to be anyone better in the world at showing the image of Holly the club needed to show.

“Okay, let’s take some candid shots of Diane and Holly walking around the complex. Then we’ll walk towards the pitches and take some good shots before everyone else comes in,” I said, getting my professional mind in gear.

There were shrieks of delight when the rest of the team came in for training. One or two had played with or against Holly before, some in the national squad when Holly had been called up. I suspected she’d be forced to sit out the next few internationals as punishment for the restraining order.

Alf really did earn his wage that day, taking pictures of the training as Georgia and I got to work writing the press releases and announcing the news. Diane was two steps ahead of us and to my increasing frustration, she brought ‘Pistol Pete’ into our office by the arm.

“Pete’s here to interview our new signing, can you keep him company while I go and get her?” Diane said, bouncing off before I could refuse.

Pete and I were frequent sparring buddies in the world of football reporting. He was almost twice my 28 years old and his incisive and often controversial opinion pieces showed no signs of becoming any less popular than they were during the days I had interned at the same paper. In fact, data had shown that more women read his articles than any other reporter, despite his apparent disdain for the sport. I suspected most people read his stuff waiting for him to be taken down a level or two. Holly vs Pete? That was a good move from Diane.

“So Tommy boy, what am I here for?” Pete asked, taking a nearby chair and spinning around slowly. Any slower and I might just have a leg spasm and speed it up. “You don’t know?” My lip curled into a smile as I locked my screen away from Pete’s prying eyes. “Don’t worry Petey, I’ll sit in so she doesn’t bite.”

Holly walked in a moment later and I wondered how much of that she caught. If she did catch it, she showed no reaction. Quite honestly, I was alarmed by how dead her hazel eyes looked. It darkened her face, especially set against her pale complexion. Her golden blonde hair and pale skin were a striking combination and one Holly had always worn well. I had dark brown hair and pale skin that I hid behind a decent beard and reading glasses. She never shied away, even when people took an interest in her for more than her football skill. Even now, when she could have gone into hiding, she sat across from Pistol Pete. He whistled as she walked in, thinking it was like a lamb to the slaughter. He didn’t know her well enough to know he was the lamb.

The opening part of the interview went well enough. Holly was a pro at it, I was the amateur in comparison to who had trained her in the art of the media interview. Her eyes were temporarily lit again, her smile looked as real and as genuine as I had ever seen it. She laughed, she said the right things and she made me believe. She’s really bloody good at this, I thought. I might need to write better content now she’s here. Despite my earlier cynicism, that challenge excited me.

“Now that you’re here,” Pete was saying, “can Clapham FC expect you to focus on your contribution on the pitch rather than your contribution to our newspapers?”

I rolled my eyes. I could have stepped in but then I saw Holly’s smirk and I knew Pistol was in trouble.

“Clapham can certainly expect that Pete, I don’t anticipate any future boyfriends giving you much to write about, just like my ex wasn’t much to write home about.” Holly looked at me as she said that and I felt my pulse beating hard into my neck over the sound of Pete’s chuckle. She looked back at Pete before I’d had a chance to memorise the look and within a few minutes, I had become less sure I had seen it that way.

By day’s end, I was delighted to leave. I dropped Georgia off and drove home. I needed to unload to someone about my day and I needed a friend who didn’t have a stake in it.

Tom: Fancy a beer?

Chris: It’s a Tuesday so not so much. How about Thursday?

Tom: Come on, I’ll make it worth your while…

Chris: I’ve told you, tickets that you get for free anyway, isn’t a good enough bribe.

Tom: What about now we’ve just signed Holly?

Chris: What?! Do you mean the same Holly who left for America the second she realised how crap her life would be with you?

Tom: The very same. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to remember how badly she could have had it before I messed it all up and she went off to be a star. She doesn’t seem to remember me at all, actually.

Surely she hadn’t forgotten me?

***

8-ish years ago

***

I met Lucy in my 1st year of University. We had plenty in common and got on easy. We became almost instant best friends, both of us were commuting into University given we both lived in London and could avoid the cost of living out. We’d find ourselves on the same train and in some of the same classes so then we’d spend lunchtime together and go for drinks every few days after our shared afternoon class. Soon I met Lucy’s family and the girlfriend she was going steady with, and likewise, she met my family too. I wasn’t dating at the time though would later meet a girl in my 1st year, the three of us regularly hanging out in the library. Lucy would also occasionally keep watch while my girlfriend and I snuck into a meeting room to get a little frisky. She reminded me of it in our final year when she had a new girlfriend at University and wanted to do the same. Suffice it to say, we both knew we’d built the kind of friendship that would last for life.

Lucy was popular, playing sports including hockey and football, for the University team. She stopped playing for her local football team as she never really had the time to get there for training after her classes and she knew she was never going to make it professionally anyway. It did mean that she had quite a few different groups of friends across University and back home and I was simply in one group of them. It was the same for me when I joined the debating club and wrote for the University paper – we were best friends but also ran in different crowds too.

Over the following summer, Lucy and I continued to meet up, going out and doing what Uni students do – namely get drunk and deny having a hangover the next day. Lucy’s 19th birthday was at the start of October as we moved into our second year. Deciding that she had far too many friends in different circles (what a wonderful problem to have, I teased constantly in the build-up,) she organised a night out the following Saturday after her birthday, for all her different groups of friends to meet for drinks and go to a club in Central London. The idea was to book a few tables at a bar, get sufficiently drunk and then pile into one of the LGBT-friendly clubs.

I took some convincing. I didn’t like loud noise (“you go to a football game every weekend!” came the reply), I hated busy places (“you go to busy bars just fine!”) and I hated strobe lighting which always felt excessive and invasive to my senses (“fair enough on that one,”). Eventually, I was convinced to go. Lucy knew me well enough that a combination of guilting me and the promise of meeting some of her hot, single friends would crumble my resolve. The girl I was seeing had broken it off to pursue pastures new and the sudden removal of frequent hot sex was a challenge. I tucked the introverted version of me into a corner of my brain and came determined to have a good time.

At the bar and then the club, Lucy went about stitching conversation between her groups of friends and I was pulled into a conversation with a couple of her friends from the local football team she had left the year before.

“This is Tom, my best mate,” she declared, rather drunkenly and unsubtly. “This is Naomi and Holly, we all played football together,” she said before hurrying off to stitch more connections between her friends, leaving me totally alone to make conversation with the two of them.

I watched Lucy go with a degree of annoyance and then turned back to them, using the excuse of sipping my drink to buy me a bit of time to take a little look at them, in turn. Naomi was a well-built woman with pretty eyes and long eyelashes that deliberately created some mystery about her. Her hair was steamed straight and she had a body that could keep even the loosest dress hooked to her curves. She was undoubtedly very pretty. I realised I lingered too long so trying to play it smart, I turned to Holly, intending to ask her a question as a means to check her out too. I was young, dumb and shameless.

I didn’t get as far as a question. I couldn’t get one out. Holly, quite simply, took my breath away.

Now, I won’t pretend she was the best-looking girl anyone had ever seen but she was the best-looking girl Thomas Bradley had ever seen and I stand by that to this day. Maybe she wasn’t everyone’s type – hell, until that point I didn’t know a girl like that was mine, but she was. She was blonde (I’d had a thing for brunettes at that point so this was a surprise in its own right), a little pale but in a way that only helped bring out her hazel eyes and I could imagine how good her face would look with a blush or a cute smile. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and she had a dress on that wore her and not the other way around. She came across like she belonged more in jeans or tracksuits or probably football shorts, and I liked that about her instantly. She was thin and the opposite of Naomi – I doubted even the most flattering bra would find much of a chest to support and she had a fitness to her that wasn’t overwhelming but added a good balance to her body.

Naomi rescued me and therefore my night, as I was ready to stay there for as long as they’d let me. “So, you’re her best mate huh? Her best bud?” She finished her teasing with a playful chuckle which helped break the ice.

“I do indeed hold that title but I’m looking for a replacement for obvious reasons,” I paused to point at Lucy wandering about, full of stress. “That’s why I’m interviewing you today. Tell me a bit about yourself?” I fell back on stupid humour and it seemed to work as we all chuckled.

I found out that both of them were working full-time while they tried to make it professionally. Holly played in Defence and Naomi in Midfield. The conversation flowed naturally. I even risked sitting down at their table. I spent a little more time looking at Naomi, partly because I feared if I looked at Holly too much, I’d never stop. There was a natural warmth to Holly. She seemed determined to look at me until I returned her gaze, as the conversation moved on to my degree and career aspirations. I felt like I interested her with my passion to write, but I wasn’t sure why. It was hardly original.

“Just you wait,” Naomi said, “Holly will be out of that retail job and signing a pro contract in no time,” when I wisely turned the conversation back to them. Naomi had started to sing Holly’s praises to me, as though I somehow needed convincing that she was way out of my league.

“I believe you!” I said with genuineness despite the lack of evidence.

A little while later they went to the bathroom together and promised to return. I saw Holly was an inch or two taller than Naomi. It suited her frame really well and it made me yearn for her return. I sat with my thoughts for a bit and was surprised at how quickly they returned with drinks in hand. Holly handed me another rum and coke with a smile. I smiled back and her smile grew as she slid passed me and sat down. By the time she was back in eyeline, her face was blushing brilliantly and it didn’t take much smarts to work out she liked me. This is crazy I thought.

Most people, at that point, know what to do next. In years that went by, I knew what I should have done. Hell, I still had dark nights in bars where I cursed my decision and the time it lost us.

I should have continued the conversation and waited for Naomi to make an excuse to move away because I was sure she was going to do so at the time. They’d probably discussed it when they left. However, what I should have done and what I did do, were two different things. I let the conversation fall into awkwardness as I waited for Naomi to make her excuses and a panic set in within me as I wondered what I was going to say to Holly and how I would impress her. I was totally smitten with her and that ‘love at first sight’ feeling had never happened to me before and never happened again. I wasn’t exactly ‘cool’ around women but this was something else entirely.

I suddenly heard myself making an excuse and left the table, to the surprise of both of them. I went to the bathroom and then I went to the other side of the club so I could hide out and gain some courage. I looked for Lucy and found her making out with a couple to the surprise of some of her nearby friends.

I felt the chance with Holly slipping away the longer I took to go back. In the end (it was probably a few minutes but it felt like hours of indecision), I left because I feared going back and seeing the moment had definitely gone. Years later once everything had blown up with Holly, Lucy admitted to me that Holly had left soon after, not quite in tears but upset enough that she no longer wanted to be there.

A few weeks later, after toying with it for days, I sent Holly a friend request on Facebook. It took Holly days to respond and in that time I thought about removing the request multiple times.

I was in my class with my phone on silent on the little table attached to my lecture hall chair when I saw it light up.

Holly Dane: Sorry I took so long to accept your invitation. How are you?

I immediately moved my phone under the table so I could shoot off a quick reply. My heart was beating hard. She’d given me a little in and after beating myself up for weeks, I was going to try everything I could to have another shot.

Tom Bradley: That’s not a problem at all, I wasn’t expecting you to accept it really.

Holly Dane: I was debating not to. That was a real dick move, Tom. If you didn’t like me, you should have just said.

I sighed, having her think that was the opposite of what I wanted.

Tom Bradley: I know. I wish I could explain it away easily but I can’t. If I tried to explain it, I’d only look worse and I’m trying very hard not to do that right now.

Holly Dane: I guess you should be glad I’m having a shit day at work and not keen for you to make it worse.

We got talking from there and didn’t stop for almost a year.

Holly was many things, I found out throughout that time. Blunt and fearless were two of them. Passionate was another. Then there were the things that only I saw of her. The vulnerability, the crushing weight of her own expectations and the lofty hopes of her friends and teammates that she’d make it. Finally, there were the things that she hinted at. The cynicism from some of her family that she was pursuing a fantasy career and the hints of how she was taking those pressures out on herself. I became an expert at reading the signs and tried in vain to get her to seek help in a roundabout way – for if I ever openly voiced my suspicions of what she was doing to herself to cope with it all, she would shut down for days at a time.

We moved to texting and speaking on the phone quite frequently. I became her confidante and her mine, especially once my Gran, my sole remaining grandparent, got sick. I told her things that I had told nobody. About how hard it was growing up without a Father, and how writing gave me release to process my feelings. I never pushed her to meet up but I ached to. I left the ball in her court and she knew that’s where it was. It was probably crazy to anyone else that we’d let a tiny thing get between us in such a seismic way but I knew by then that Holly had felt the same for me as I did for her that night. She never said it, but I knew.

I learned during a deep texting session one night that she had never had sex before and that she wore her heart on her sleeve. “I could count on one hand how many men I’ve fancied and on one finger how many men I properly liked.” She abruptly changed the conversation at that point having revealed too much and then she ignored my probing questions thereafter. I looked at that message for weeks afterwards.

She was a year and a few weeks younger than me so celebrated her 19th birthday weeks after I celebrated my 20th over the winter. I ‘liked’ the pictures of the party she posted on Facebook, as I liked most of her pictures, especially those that showed her with a football at her feet.

Towards the end of my 2nd year, I didn’t speak to her much. I was ridiculously busy with coursework as well as exam prep and only really exchanged messages with her after midnight when I procrastinated during my all-nighters. Holly would keep me company until she made a major mistake at work from tiredness and got a formal warning. She wasn’t angry with me but we both agreed to pause our messaging until after my exams.

It was tough as my thoughts were on her constantly. I’d sometimes scroll onto her Facebook late at night and look through her pictures. We’d started to sext a little bit. Nothing too extreme or too often. Holly would ask me questions about sex and I’d answer. Sometimes it would lead to her needing an orgasm and I would help her get there. One day she asked to see my penis. After multiple attempts at angles and lighting, I sighed and sent the best one I could before I missed the moment all over again. Her reaction and the conversation that followed gave me one of my strongest orgasms.

Holly Dane: I hope you don’t think I’m a freak Tank but I’ve been cumming over your dick a lot. I kinda felt bad doing it and not telling you.

Tom Bradley: Pretty sure my brain just exploded Hollywood.

Holly had taken to calling me Tank after Thomas the Tank Engine and certainly not because of my size. I’d filled out a bit through running during study breaks and occasional gym sessions but nothing to brag about. Hollywood was her nickname because I could think of nothing creative or witty when she started calling me Tank.

By the time of my exams, Lucy knew about Holly and me. It was frustrating her greatly that we hadn’t met up since and even more so when I’d make excuses not to. On a break from studying one Sunday morning during the time Holly and I agreed to talk less, Lucy dragged me with her to watch Holly play.

I was mesmerised watching her on that grass. I think I fell in love with her in a different way – one of a football fan watching someone incredible in the flesh. There was no doubt in my mind she’d make it Pro. She was better than everyone else on the pitch, able to take players on even from Centre Back and lay inch-perfect passes to the Striker. Her team battered their opponents. I stood to the side cheering her with Lucy and with the sparsely attended fans. She saw me just a few minutes in when the ball went out for a throw-in. Her face was priceless and I thanked Lucy for pushing me to go. Holly’s face, already quite red from the physical effort, went up another shade and she had the brightest smile as she looked at me, teeth on show. I beamed back.

At halftime, I saw her trying to trot over but she never had the chance with tactic discussions and a comfort break. It wasn’t until full-time that she managed to do so. I saw her hug her Mum who came to attend as well as her two younger sisters. Her older brother and Dad weren’t there and never were. Then she made her way over and locked in on my eyes.

“Hey,” she said, smiling awkwardly. Realising Lucy was there too, she hugged her before Lucy walked away and said hello to some of her old teammates.

“You’re incredible,” I said in wonder. “Seriously, seriously good.” I knew football and at that point in my life I knew I wanted to go into football journalism, so I had to know good when I saw it. She had it.

We chatted for a bit and it felt comfortable with just a touch of awkwardness, what with her in her kit and her family close by. Eventually, her Mum called out asking if she wanted a lift. Holly looked at me questioningly, wondering if I wanted to go anywhere and hang out.

Sadly, I shook my head. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m not running off but I need to run off.” I paused after saying it. “Yes, I heard it,” I said with a grin that she shared. “I need to study.”

Holly nodded, slightly disappointed but not upset with me this time. I watched her walk away and then called out, “Hollywood, how about coffee this week?”

I heard wolf whistles and saw Naomi and Lucy standing nearby. “Sounds good to me Tank,” she said with a grin, turning away and leaving me to explain the nickname to the giggling pair.

We started to meet up during my breaks. Holly would drive over with a coffee each and we’d sit and talk in her car for 30 minutes. If I’d known how poorly designed the course was, I’d never have gone to that University, given how much strain it was putting on Holly and I trying to build something together. But then, I’d never have met Lucy and therefore Holly. So the punishment was worth the prize.

I was right, she always wore jeans and a casual t-shirt. When she saw me on the following Friday, on the way back from work, she asked if I was okay with her not wearing more girly clothes.

“I love the way you dress,” I said honestly. “You’re perfect Holly.”

She smiled and leaned into me and we shared our first kiss. I like coffee and liked it even more when I could taste it on her lips and tongue. I took her face in my hand gently and held her there as we kissed. We pulled away breathless.

I had two more weeks of deadlines and exams and then I was free for the summer. Holly was doing a far more disciplined job of keeping me focused on studying, not letting me be distracted by her. That wasn’t to say she was always successful. In the end, she said, “get through the first week and you’ll see me topless and get through the second and you’ll see everything.”

I got back to studying with renewed energy and true to her word, late on Friday night both weeks, she sent me first a topless picture and then a fully nude one. Both times she was laying down on her bed, hair tied back and without any makeup. She didn’t always wear makeup but I’d noticed she was wearing it a little more whenever we met up. I told her she didn’t need to and she told me it was for her, not for me. Blunt, just how I liked her.

I fell in love with her naked body, as I knew I would. It was toned and strong with a hint of boob but not a lot. I could see they’d be enough to hold and that was fine by me. She had a beautiful chest and neck that I wanted to kiss all over. Her nipples were hard and pointy, which suited her just right. Her pale complexion seemed to make her more beautiful. I traced my eyes down on the second week and studied her legs and everything else in detail. She was completely shaved and I could almost feel the nervousness in the way she posed. Her leg was slightly tucked into her body and I could see her strong calf and thigh. Her pussy looked small and tight. I shamelessly told her I wanted to explore every inch of it with my mouth.

Holly: Does it bother you that I’m a virgin?

Tom: No, does it bother you that I’m not?

Holly: No, I’m relieved it’s not the blind leading the blind.

I laughed out loud at that.

We gave ourselves an orgasm before bed which was now our almost-nightly ritual and said goodnight.

I woke up the next morning and found a text from Holly.

Holly: A scout was at the game you watched and wants to offer me a scholarship to play in America. I don’t know what to do, I didn’t even know how to tell you.

I could feel my heart hurting as I read the message. I knew what decision she was going to make and I knew in my heart I would help her to make it.

We discussed it almost constantly for the next few days. Only now did her Dad start to believe in her talent and attend games with her, even driving her to the away ones. She posted a picture of them beaming together which I hit the like button on but didn’t share the same enthusiasm. I knew what she had gone through and done to herself, partly as a result of his comments and I couldn’t forgive him as easily.

Holly and I made plans with Lucy and Naomi to watch the football together the weekend after our exams. Holly had managed to swap her shift and would be working the next evening in the graveyard shift and then back in again to open the next morning. I appreciated it more than I could say, knowing how much that would kill her before working 5 straight days.

We watched the England Women’s game together and we held hands or else cuddled close. There was nothing obvious about it but Holly had changed. If you asked me how, I wouldn’t be able to tell you but sometimes you just know. She was spending as much time as possible being as close to me as she could and something about that told me she knew she had decided to leave. Going with her was not an option for me and I was not going to have her miss her dreams to stay with me.

“It’s such a relief you two idiots got yourself sorted,” Naomi said teasingly but smiling widely. She doesn’t know about Holly’s offer I thought, upon hearing that.

We had a few rounds of beer each, mostly driven by a resounding victory for the England team over far inferior opposition. I went to the bathroom while the 3 of them were deep in talk about which foreign player they’d have on the England team. I caught the tail end of this on my return and gathered there weren’t too many names.

“See, that’s the problem with Women’s Football,” I said, taking a sip and totally oblivious to the 3 pairs of eyes that had looked round and were directly lasers into my head. “There’s just no money in it and -”

“Fuck you!” I stopped my sentence in shock at Holly’s interruption. “You don’t get to say that.”

“No wait,” I said, panicked. “That’s not what I meant -”

She stood up with a face of thunder, her pale skin now red and angry. I couldn’t help but think she had blown it out of proportion.

And then it hit me: she was blowing it out of proportion. Painting me in the same vein as her Brother and Father was an easy way for her to blow up. I quickly realised that she was taking advantage of the situation and was finding a way to finish things with me now, while she could. It all became clear to me in a heart-breaking instant. It was sudden but it was sensible for her. We’d been sitting together practically sharing a chair and that couldn’t have made the prospect of breaking up with me easy.

“You knew what you meant,” she said angrily, “don’t deny it.”

“I won’t,” I sighed, giving in. I saw a flicker of surprise in her expression and then she stared hard at me as she got her stuff together. I stared her down as Lucy and Naomi sat between us in stunned silence. I saw a hint of realisation in her expression but maybe I imagined it as she walked out. That was the last time I would see her until that Tuesday morning years later.

I turned back to Lucy and Naomi. I felt it better to correct the record or else risk offending them too. “You know I meant facilities and training, right?”

They both nodded. “It was obvious, I’ll talk to her,” said Naomi reassuringly.

I agreed though it was only for show. I knew Holly was in tears somewhere nearby right then and shortly afterwards, I left too.

Holly was leaving for America the following month, she announced on her Facebook page. Lucy understood what had happened immediately – she was infinitely better with people than I was so if I got what was happening, I knew it wouldn’t take long for her to as well.

“I am so sorry,” she said, pulling me in for a squeeze.

I fell into a depression over that summer, stalking Holly from afar on social media (I was eating and drinking far too much to do any actual stalking, don’t worry!) until mercifully in early September, she blocked my number and deleted me from Facebook and allowed me to get my life back together.

I still saw her on TV, watching many Women’s games online and watching her excel and beat every challenge. I stalked her Instagram occasionally when someone in my network tagged her in something or else retweeted something she’d posted. So she was always there in my periphery and perhaps even more than that, given I’d chosen to work in women’s football. I kept some steady girlfriends but I was always just a bit too bitter about what had gotten away to ever be truly happy. Stupidly, her growing skill and popularity felt like a metaphor for the growth of the relationship we’d never have.

***

Present Day

***

I thought the beers would help me to talk it all through but they didn’t. Chris was my oldest friend, I’d known him since school and he knew how torn up I was back then, even though he’d never met her. He was adamant that I was punishing myself for working in this field given how prominent she was becoming. The sex tape didn’t help with her popularity – if it could be called that.

“She can suck some serious dick,” Chris said bluntly when he saw it a day after me.

Lucy was furiously angry when she heard about it and outright refused to watch it. “Why don’t she release one of him giving her shit head? She won’t because she’s too classy!”

I woke up the next morning without a hangover but with a pit of anger in my stomach. As irrational as it was for me to think it, what was the point of her going away and putting us through that if she was going to come back anyway? Why did she look so much hotter? How the hell had she forgotten me?

I pulled up to Georgia’s house with a coffee cup in each of the trays.

“Sit on a cactus this morning?” Georgia remarked when she got in the car and saw my face.

“You’ve just talked yourself out of this coffee,” I said, going to pull it away.

“Give it, it’s the only reason I ride with you.”

I laughed at that. “It’s not the money?!” I cried out in shock.

Georgia was hoping to use this job as a platform into another football club’s press team. She was good enough and I knew she was learning enough in this job to get ahead of the competition.

“Excited for the press conference today?” She asked conversationally.

“You betcha,” I said with a smile. “Hollywood’s gonna kick some arse.”

“Wasn’t she in Portland?”

“Uh, yeah sorry. Portland.”

***

Later that day we were outside the press room. We’d made the big time as we had journalists waiting to speak to Holly, Diane and I, not the men’s team. Holly’s transfer was big news, it had even made it across to the mainstream media. I saw a few of the men looking over at her, partly impressed to see her, partly shamelessly checking her out. Holly shot them each daggers in turn until they walked off.

It was just us and Georgia, waiting for the tech and facilities guys to finish sorting the room so we could let the journalists in. So far Holly hadn’t said anything to me beyond the pleasantries (which weren’t all that pleasant) and then had stood around on her phone, utterly disinterested, except when she felt the men looking over at her.

“Fuck men,” she muttered at the time. Georgia giggled and I looked away.

“I’m going to go see how it’s looking,” I said aloud.

“I’ll do that, that’s my job,” Georgia responded, already closest to the door.

“Yeah, haven’t you got to, like, prep me?” Holly said. I didn’t enjoy the ‘like’ in that sentence. It sounded very American and I wasn’t ready to forgive the country for taking her away.

“I daresay you’ve had more prep than I can give you,” I replied acidly. Georgia looked behind her briefly as she walked into the next room and the door closed behind her, eyes wide and looking at me with a ‘what the fuck’ expression.

Holly waited for the door to fully close before she responded. “I didn’t know you were the press guy or whatever the hell you are, when I joined. So don’t get shitty at me Tank, I wasn’t expecting to see you either.”

“Oh, she remembers!” Anger overtook my elation and made it it’s own. “I spent a sleepless night wondering how the fuck you forgot me so easily. But I lost a lot of those when you left so I guess another night isn’t a big deal.”

“Fuck. You.” Holly spat it at me with emotion I couldn’t quite recognise. Her pale face had filled with colour and I could see her shaking. I backed down.

“Sort yourself out, you already look like you don’t want to be here, the last thing I need is the press seeing how angry you are about it.”

I turned my back on her and looked into the room to see the press now filing in with Diane having informal conversations with some of them. The outcome of our heated conversation was that Holly was even saltier when she entered the press room. We sat at the front on a small stage, only inches apart and I could feel the angry heat radiating off her.

She took the questions and answered them well but with an edge that threatened no follow-up questions. My job was to facilitate and keep things honest. I’d said at the start that there would be no chat about non-football-related matters. I fully expected nobody to listen. I wasn’t surprised when they didn’t.

“Holly, what do you think Lucas will think about your move?”

I went to step in but Holly put her hand on my arm subtly and the spark of her touch silenced me. “He’ll love it, his windows are a lot safer now I’m here.” There were hearty laughs and Holly smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“How long you think he’ll last without you?” Asked a reporter from one of the national rags, innocent as you like.

“Okay guys, that’s enough,” I said, stepping in. “Football-related questions only and you just lost 5 minutes of Holly’s time.”

I finished the press conference shortly after and we went back through the side door as journalists filtered out of the front. Holly walked off down the corridor without another word.

That evening, I met Lucy for dinner. She’d organised it as soon as she saw the announcement about Holly joining. We spent time talking about her latest girlfriend and how well it was going and then her work. I was stalling to avoid talking about my job, which now felt to be in a bit of a crisis. When I could find no other viable conversation points, I talked Lucy through the last couple of days while I made my way through a chicken tikka masala. Lucy paused for a long time, thinking over everything I’d said. She spent time dipping her naan into her curry until I could take it no more and prodded her along with an impatient, “well?”

“I think she’s hurting,” Lucy said without delay. “I think she left a really shit situation and now thinks she’s been dumped right into another one,” she waved her naan at me as she spoke, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I was the shit situation.

“Do you think I should look for another job? I don’t want to make her life harder, Luce,” I was at a loss at this point and was grateful to have Lucy to confide in. “You know how much she means to me.”

Lucy nodded as I finished my plea. “I do know, which is why I think you need to wait out the coming storm. You don’t want to add guilt to her list as you know she’ll feel it if you leave. At least if you have to leave in a few months, you can do it with a better job.”

I hugged Lucy tight that night and thanked her for being a true friend. I hoped Holly had the same in her life now.

***

Saturday was the first matchday with Holly in the team which was great as we were a few games in and already too far down the table. Our matchdays typically had a few thousand fans but today the crowd was noticeably bigger, as was the number of matchday reporters that I had to marshal into their seats. Holly would be repaying her salary in no time, through gate receipts alone.

Georgia would be writing the live updates for our website so I took a seat near the touchline, with a good eyeline to the reporters and the bench. I scanned the crowd, looking for the long-forgotten faces that were instantly recognisable: Holly’s family. I’d never met them but I felt like I knew them from everything Holly had shared. Her Sisters, Charlotte and Amelia were like younger versions of her, having grown up considerably over the last few years. From my viewpoint, I couldn’t tell them apart. The sister closest to me turned around to view the crowd and I was able to get a good look at her. It was definitely Charlotte, probably a little more than 20 with freckles and a tan that made me think she’d been away recently.

Holly waved at them, showing genuine happiness for the first time since I’d seen her again. That’s Holly, I thought. At least for one reason, she was glad to be back.

I watched the match with a level of excitement I hadn’t felt in years. It was like being back on that Sunday League pitch all those years ago. I was watching the match, but really I was watching Holly. She spotted the danger before others did, barking commands and getting people in line. She was already leading the team. This was where she belonged, everything else was just noise. I watched her win a towering header to defend a corner, climbing far higher than her 5’7 frame.

As the match went on, I saw she was getting targeted quite a bit. Opposition forwards leaving their mark on her, taking that bit longer to pull away from the challenge. I could hear her Mum and Dad screaming at the ref. She took it all and didn’t back down. The tackles were enraging our fans and that willed all of the players on. We won the game comfortably. 2-0, our first win and first clean sheet of the season. The players split their celebrations between Holly and Olivia, our striker.

I saw the telltale signs of her teammates holding Holly up every so slightly. She looked like she’d been in a war. I jumped out of my seat and stood sentry over the changing room as I always did but needed to even more so today, with the press around. Olivia came out to do some quotes, even though they’d asked for Holly.

***

As much as we tried to avoid it over the following weeks, Holly was our superstar and so her media commitments outstripped anyone else’s. She was soon invited to go and do community activities and ambassadorial tasks. I had to go with her. Georgia was too junior and Holly too important. So it had to be me. Holly knew that too and our shared frustration continued to boil over – we bickered over everything and then had to play as though we were having the best working relationship when around others, which only infuriated us both more.

Holly was still getting kicked about all over the pitch, 6 games into her career in London. She was the best player we had so there was an element of that but our Striker, Olivia, was also pretty good and seemed to be escaping much of the challenge, with a focus now on Holly. It was getting her down and I was increasingly concerned it was no longer about her being our best player. I worried for her.

I tried as best I could to be more pleasant but she wouldn’t let me be. She’d prod at old wounds whenever I tried to be kind. She frequently brought up our final argument and would throw it in my face at her leisure. “I thought women’s football was broke, why are you in it?”; “I thought you were all ambitious and wanted to get somewhere.” Or “are you only here so you can be surrounded by hot women with a pretty little assistant to make you coffee?”

It was infuriating and I woke up dreading any of the days I’d have to spend with her. I left each of those days wanting a stiff whiskey but settling instead for a beer while I forced myself to make dinner on those nights. I’d spiralled once because of her and I didn’t think I could do it again.

The day before our latest away game had us scheduled to do a meet & greet at a local hospital after a sick child wrote a letter to Holly that had gone viral. I was cursing our Community Manager who would put these visits in. I didn’t want to go to a hospital ever again. I drove us over from the training ground with the radio on low and not a word was exchanged between us. Worse still, I needed to drive us to the away game immediately after as the team coach had already left. We were staying at a hotel overnight as the match started early the next day. It was budget: because Women’s football.

Four hours of this, I thought. I must remember to undo my seatbelt when I drive us into one of the concrete bridges.

We arrived at the hospital and Holly got out of the car as soon as she could, leaving me to go and pay for parking. I heard and saw a grimace when she got out of the car and knew she was hurting. She had the team tracksuit on loose which made it harder to see where. I caught up to her as we neared the entrance and I felt my head start to pound.

“Holly,” I said, slowing behind her as she walked in at pace.

She looked to her left at my sound and then turned behind her, showing surprise at how far back I now was. We were almost at shouting distance, a dangerous decibel level at the best of times with us. I closed the gap a little bit. “What?” I could hear the confusion but there was a distinct lack of frustration in her tone, which was positive.

“I don’t think I can go in,” I admitted.

The only two times I remembered being in a hospital were to watch two family members die after long illnesses. First my Dad and then my Gran. She knew that because she was there for me when the latter happened and then showed me a level of compassion and understanding I had never gotten from anyone else when I opened up about my Father. I had fallen in love with her during that time, convinced we connected on a deep level.

I saw her face soften as she looked at me. It was the first time I felt her look at me that way since she’d gotten back. I knew that she’d just been recounting the same conversations I had. “Okay, wait out here then, I won’t be too long,” she said, not unkindly.

“You know I can’t Holly.” It felt weird to now be addressing her by name, the first time I’d done that in years.

“Yes you can, no PR disaster is going to happen in there, I’ve done enough of these. Go and get a coffee and I’ll call you if I need you, I promise.”

“You blocked me,” I said before I could stop myself.

She refused to meet my eye. “I didn’t block you Tank,” she looked away from me and then turned back towards the entrance. “I just couldn’t face giving you my new number.” It was quiet and caught in the wind but I heard her perfectly.

I sat in the car waiting for her to return at the end of the allocated time. I saw her walking up to the car in my rear mirror, wiping her eye on her sleeve. When she got in the car, I’d never have guessed she’d just been crying. There was a slight redness to her cheeks but that could have just as easily been the wind. “How was it?” I asked because I felt I had to.

“Fine,” she said in response and didn’t elaborate further.

I started the car and reversed us out of the parking spot. My eyes strayed a touch too long on Holly as I checked my mirrors. Now she thought I was looking away, I saw her let out a deep, shaky breath. She won’t let me in, even in the slightest.

I had to know if she was at least letting someone in, I feared for her if she wasn’t. “How’s Naomi?” I asked as we pulled away.

Holly paused, assessing the various potential directions the conversation could go and I could only guess deciding it was safe enough, as she replied, “Naomi’s good, really good. She’s in Recruitment now but wants to get into a Football Agency. I’m trying to put her in touch with a few people.”

“That’s great!” I was enthused, really glad to hear that for her. “Tell her I said hello,” I chanced.

“Yeah, I will.”

A silence fell between us that I was in no hurry to break given we had four hours to get through together. Eventually, when I decided the silence was stretching on a bit too long to be useful, I said, “Do you speak to Lucy at all?”

Holly shifted a little bit. “Yeah, we speak sometimes.”

I nodded with my eyes still on the road. It was news to me as Lucy hadn’t mentioned it. I wasn’t testing for dishonesty, I was just trying to find out if Holly had good people around her.

“Do you mind that we speak?” She asked suddenly.

“Not in the slightest, she was your friend before mine,” I replied immediately. I chanced a glance over at her to see her playing with her hands. “Oh I’ve just remembered, I got you a coffee. Latte right?” I was pleased that I remembered her choice when I had the brainwave to order her a coffee in thanks.

I could see though that Holly did not share my enthusiasm. “Why did you do that?”

I paused, sensing a trap but not for the life of me understanding what it was doing there. “I was trying to say thanks, for you know, the hospital.”

“Well you didn’t need to,” she said bluntly.

For whatever reason, and my brain was too jaded to understand what it was, I had hit a nerve and we fell back into the same uncomfortable silence that filled our journey toward the hospital. I switched the radio station to Heart, which I knew was her favourite. She let it play for a minute and then said rather pointedly, “Can we change it to Radio X?”

I guessed her tastes had changed with age, going from more mainstream Pop/Chart music to Indie, not that I was complaining as I made the switch. As if reading my thoughts, she said, “I’m not that kind of girl anymore,” ignoring how cliché that sounded.

I let silence fall on us again for the first hour of the drive. The radio change helped. I decided to try again to engage in conversation with her. I was nothing if not stubborn, or masochistic, depending on how you looked at it. The coffee had been left to get cold.

“I’ve seen your family has been coming to games, it must be great having them watch you play?”

“Yeah, it is, though they came to America quite a bit.”

“Charlotte’s -”

“Stop. Just stop.” Holly said abruptly. I looked at her in shock, confusion and anger, my focus temporarily taken away from the road. “Stop being nice to me, stop trying to talk to me like we’re friends and stop thinking you still know me. You don’t know me, we’re not friends and you of all people should not want to be nice to me.”

I turned what I could only imagine was a shocking shade of red from the putdown and the humiliation. “You make me want to bang my head against this steering wheel.”

Holly looked taken aback by my harshness. A paleness came over her and she opened her mouth to respond.

“What?” I said impatiently.

“I.. I,” she struggled to form the words. I wasn’t sure if I was about to get an apology or something else. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel and she eventually swallowed and fell silent.

We didn’t speak for another hour until she saw us heading off the motorway. I was surprised she had noticed, with her head buried on Instagram and the other social media accounts. “Where are we going?”

“I need to eat, piss and walk around a bit or I’ll kill us. The conversation isn’t exactly keeping me awake,” I said bluntly. Holly was bringing out the side of me that I only seemed to have reserved for her now: openly bitter and hostile.

When I parked up, she left the car without another word and went into the petrol station with a cap on. I followed shortly after filling up and returned with a bag of crisps and a coke, to see her perched on the side of my car with just a bottle of water in hand. Her lack of food all day should have set some warning bells ringing but I was too pissed off to see it.

We made it to the hotel without further incident or conversation. Some of the players were downstairs in the kitchen/bar area and she went to join them after checking in. I made my way straight upstairs after nodding at the group and declining their offer to join them even though a savage part of me would have enjoyed making Holly have to play nice around people.

Later that night I called Lucy as I needed her wisdom. She was with her girlfriend but promised I wasn’t interrupting. She put her girlfriend on the phone briefly and we had a general chat and introduction. That was a rare action on Lucy’s part so it certainly was going well. When the conversation started to go back in circles, Lucy took the phone and walked into another room. “So I’m guessing something’s up if you’re calling me on a Friday evening without checking if I had plans.”

“Ah yeah, sorry,” I replied. “Ruby sounds great!”

“Yeah, she’s pretty ace. Dynamite in bed too,” she laughed. “So tell me what’s up?”

I recounted the car ride with Holly, using it as a prime example of how bad things were.”They’re not getting better, Lucy.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I talk to her -”

“-Don’t worry about that, I’m glad she has you-”

“-But suffice to say,” she paused so we could stop talking over each other, “there’s a lot she’s trying to manage and I don’t think she’s managing it well. Nor do I think she’s giving me the whole picture. You just need to give her space. She’s hurting and seeing you is like adding vinegar to all her wounds. She can’t even mention you by name when we talk. You’re the reminder of what she could have had instead of what she got.”

“We both knew it was right though,” I pointed out, hating how I had to keep repeating that. “And I can’t give her space, we work together! Annoyingly bloody closely.”

“Okay give her time then,” Lucy said immediately.

Those are two different things, I stopped myself from pointing out. We dialled off a little while after and I was left to manage an uncomfortable night’s sleep that involved Holly being stung by a thousand bees, crying out for help but I couldn’t get to her and nor could I hear her over the noise.

We won the game the next day, Holly’s arrival continuing to invigorate us. Our manager, Caroline, was finally starting to get the plaudits I thought she deserved. As usual now, Holly had been kicked off the park. It was becoming harder to justify or explain away. The discontent from our team, as well as our fans, was starting to grow. I knew someone was going to come out and say something bad soon and have me pulling an all-nighter but I wouldn’t blame them, we’d all had enough. All of us except Holly who didn’t complain once.

Later that week, with Caroline’s permission, I brought the team together and we developed a targeted strategy to influence the League and the referees about the treatment Holly was experiencing. I gave them key lines that I wanted everyone to follow when speaking in the media or posting about games on Social Media. I made sure they knew not to accuse anyone of bias as that was a guaranteed fine, accurate or not.

Holly could have called me out on it, after her rant in the car but I think she knew I was doing it for the good of the team and not for her health. But I also knew that was how I’d have to position it to get her to agree to it. Even then she felt we all just needed to ‘grow up’ and not make a big deal out of it. She was one bad tackle away from a serious injury though and she knew it.

Now that we had really started to draw attention to it, things improved on the pitch a little bit for Holly. She wasn’t getting bruised and kicked as much in the games and we were still churning out more wins than losses. Sadly, her mood and demeanour, towards me and in her own private moments, hadn’t improved accordingly. She was perfectly engaging and talkative when she needed to be but then she’d withdraw as soon as she could. I was watching Holly slide away in front of my eyes.

Yes, things had improved over a number of weeks but there was no planning for a London Derby against our local rivals, at their own ground, in the pouring rain. Holly had been caught, kicked, clattered, slapped and even punched in the ribs during a corner when the referee’s back was turned.

The whole bench, myself included, had shouted ourselves hoarse at the referee but our voices were mostly lost in the wind and rain. I had to be physically pulled away from one of the opposition coaches who had called her a diver. “I’ll floor you then and see how you dive, you fucking arsehole,” I’d shouted at him, to the delight of the press I worked so closely with.

We lost the match quite comfortably and I had to try and find someone who would speak to the reporters. I saw Holly out of the corner of my eye and I knew it was bad. She always walked off the pitch after the game – she never let anyone see she was suffering since that first match. But she was being helped up by two of her teammates and I could see she was hurting.

Football isn’t supposed to be a violent sport but there’s contact and there are people that know how to make contact. In a derby match, risking a yellow card with a crunching tackle was to be expected. When your opposition’s best player is in defence, it gave them an easy target to get physical whenever she took the ball forward. We could see their frustrations growing as Holly put in inch-perfect tackles or dribbled away from them with ease, even after being clattered minutes before and left rolling on the turf in agony.

One of the subs agreed to do the post-match questions and we kept it short. When she was done, I followed her into the changing room to check on everyone. I always tried to avoid going in because well, privacy, but being part of the team meant they saw me that way and therefore nobody minded me being there, even in relative states of undress. I’d walked in at the point when most of the team only had their underwear on. I averted my eyes from below the general neck level and looked for Holly. There was group chatter about the game and how tough it was, one or two had yet to calm down and were riling the rest back up but I left that to Caroline to sort. It sounded like one of our wingers had done her knee in quite badly and was in the small treatment room with our physio.

I saw Holly in an alcove, away from the noise and where nobody was looking at her as she got changed in private. She was in her sports bra and under-shorts that came down to mid-thigh, not underwear like almost everyone else. It was the first time I had seen her body in some years and the sight of it made me swallow hard – and not in the way I would have expected to if I ever saw it again.

I guess to the rest of the team who hadn’t seen her body before she joined the team, it was on the skinny side but nothing to worry too much about. She had always been thin but for me, who could see just how substantial the weight-loss was, it scared me and made me wonder how long she had been like that. Had she lost the weight over time in America, or since?

Her body was covered in bruises, with old ones healing under the new. I could see the outline of her ribs, something I never would have expected to see, with bruises across most of the surrounding areas. Holly’s thighs, her calves and her ankles were bruised purple and swollen in multiple places. The shin pads had done their job and protected the front of her legs but everything else had taken the impact which made it look worse. I only had to look at her face to see how much cumulative pain she was in, eyes scrunched up as her hands unfolded her top ready to be put on. The closest I could describe it was that it look like she had gone five rounds with a Kickboxer with her hands tied behind her back.

I walked over tentatively, unsure if I even should, given how she had removed herself from everyone, but I was unable to let her suffer like this alone. I made it to the alcove before she noticed me.

“Can you fuck off, please?” There was real pain in her voice and desperation too. She could barely say it aloud, even in a whisper. She drew out the ‘please’ in such a way that it was more of a hiss as she fought the pain.

I refused to be so easily turned away, not when she looked like this. “I’m just checking if you’re okay. Please let me help you, Holly.”

“Oh God,” I could see tears start to swim in her eyes and her words were the reaction to that. “Please leave me alone right now. Please, please, please, please.”

I backed away, frightened by the way her pleading became a mantra that was growing weaker with every word as the tears started to flow. As I turned away I heard her slump down the wall and it took all I had not to spring around and try to catch her, even though I’d have been too late. By the time I walked passed Dawn, some of the players had noticed her and ran over in a panic. It allowed me to look back at her, though I dreaded what I would see.

Holly was on the floor, almost folded into the wall, sobbing in agony. I paused, wanting to turn back but knowing it would be for my benefit, not hers. For whatever reason, she didn’t want me to see her like that even though she must have known I was there to help her. I turned back around and went to find the physio, leaving her there to suffer.

***

The players had Sunday and Monday off to recover, reporting in for light training on Tuesday. I’d spent the Sunday afternoon with my extended family, none of whom were football fans and this allowed me to fully switch off from things.

I picked Georgia up as usual on Tuesday morning where we exchanged updates about our respective weekends. Nothing of note seemed to have happened during hers and I struggled to stifle a yawn. “Sorry,” I said, “that is so rude.”

Georgia just laughed. “I won’t take offence, you look like you’re not sleeping much.”

Try sleeping after seeing the love of your life looking like that I thought. The image of Holly laying like that was haunting me and I was thinking about it almost constantly.

“I’m not, but I’m going to have to try to sleep soundly soon, one way or another.”

Georgia and I spent most of the morning cramped into our tiny office working on website content. Alf appeared mid-morning to take pictures. ‘Back in training and ready to go again’ was the theme. Georgia’s idea, she said all the big men’s clubs were doing it now. Holly would hate it, she’d find it pitiful but I stupidly hoped she’d come into the office and make a fuss, just so I could talk to her and see how she was doing.

Alf returned an hour later looking pleased with himself, which he always was, to be fair to him. I wondered what it would feel like to be that confident (delusional or otherwise) about how good you were at your job. I felt like I hadn’t been good at my job in a while, purely going through the motions in a job that paid enough to get me by without needing to worry too much about money after my Dad’s Death in Service payout and my Gran’s inheritance. I had enough to buy a house but I continued to rent because I didn’t fancy getting into crippling, lifelong debt, for just myself.

“Pics look great, I’ll have ’em to you this afternoon. Shame your superstar’s not here, pictures of her running about would have been trending after Saturday’s battering,” Alf said cheerfully.

“I thought you didn’t watch the games?” I heard Georgia say from afar.

My mind was on Holly. She never missed training, never. There was one time that she was driving over for one of our coffee dates, got caught in traffic and turned back around as she would be cutting it too close to get back for training.

“I don’t,” I heard Alf say, “but I read your match reports, don’t I?”

I checked back into the room and said, “Thanks Alf, look forward to seeing them. I’ll go and have a chat with Caroline and see if she’s injured.” I felt Georgia’s eyes on me as I walked out but she said nothing.

Caroline was in her office post-training when I knocked. “She’ll be back in tomorrow, she assures me,” Caroline said before I could even open my mouth, eyes still on her laptop. “Didn’t feel well enough to make it in. If she says the same thing tomorrow I’ll suggest she comes in and gets checked out.”

“Right,” I said, taking it in. “Great job on being physic.”

“I know most of what goes on around here,” Caroline replied, still not looking over. “She hates herself Tom, not you.”

“How do you..?”

Caroline finally looked over, her ageing face showing years of wisdom. “As you said, I’m physic.”

I spent the rest of the day working my butt off, throwing myself into it so that the day would be over faster. It didn’t quite work that way but at least I was able to distract myself a little. Towards the end of the day when Georgia was packing up, I opened up Holly’s file on my computer and wrote down her address. It was no secret, I had to have contact details for all the players. Nobody wants their PR person hunting around for their address in a time of crisis.

I dropped Georgia off and then looped back around, heading towards the other side of London, having to pass back by the training ground as I did so. With traffic, I was in the car for a solid two hours by the time I got there. My legs were aching, not helped by a particularly punishing treadmill run on an incline the day before.

I decided to park up outside her apartment complex and walk to the closest supermarket to get a couple of sandwiches, rather than drive. My gut told me Holly wouldn’t have any food in the house, if she even let me in. I picked up some sweets too, jelly cherries – Holly’s favourite.

This was going to be it, I was going to get through to her or I was going to give up. I couldn’t do it anymore after seeing her like that and my exchange with Caroline gave me hope that she wasn’t going to face things alone, even without me.

I loitered outside her locked complex with my jeans, jumper and rainjacket trying not to look too suspicious. If I’d buzzed up to her, she never would have let me in but if I showed up at her door…

I looked up at the complex, trying to catch a glimpse of the level of income of the people that lived there while I waited for someone to let me in. I’d be a terrible burglar, I thought to myself.

The area was nice enough in a trendy part of the capital and I could see from passers-by that this was commuter-heavy living. Holly wasn’t rich by any means, despite being a professional with sponsorships. I suspected some of what she made went to her family as she was built that way and if she even owned her place, it was probably heavily mortgaged.

Eventually, a rather lax man around my age walked out and left the door wide open, easy enough for me to slip into as it slowly closed behind him. I took the lift to the 4th floor and found number 20. I took a deep breath, knocked and stepped back.

My heart was beating out of my chest and I was fiddling about with the shopping bag for something to do. I waited a minute but there was no answer and no sound of movement. I knocked again, willing to wait another minute before I called it a day. I was now very tired. Maybe this was a bad idea…

As I contemplated leaving, I heard movement on the other side of the door and then the spyhole darkened. “What do you want?” Blunt and impatient.

“I want to talk to you. May I come in?”

I heard her pulling the chain and then the door opened. Holly stood in the way of it. Her hair was hanging loose but it looked unbrushed and a little wild. She was in a white t-shirt that probably could have fit her twice over and grey baggy joggers. I hated to think it, but she didn’t look good.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Do you want me to talk about it in the hall?”

“I don’t really want you coming in.”

“Okay, would you like to go out?”

“No.”

I paused, reminding myself that I had to be patient. She was going to make this hard, I was in her space unannounced. I looked beyond her as I was struggling to look at her like that and she immediately moved her body to block my view into her house. I was struck by a worry I struggled to voice.

“Are you… erm, with someone?” I asked hesitantly.

Holly looked at me like I was delusional. “What? No. Who the hell would want me like this?” She followed up with a sigh. “Fine, come in.”

She turned around and I followed her in. Last to be seen, first to recover. And damn, did I need that recovery time. I could see why Holly didn’t want me to come in. Her curtains were drawn and most of the lights were off, save for a small cluster under the kitchen cupboard of her open-plan kitchen/living room. It was a large space, with doors going off in different directions. The whole place was cluttered and the stale air told me it had been a while since a window had been opened. Holly was trying to pick up plates off her coffee table and move things off the sofa. Her tv was paused on Fifa, Playstation control pad resting on a pile of magazines.

Holly made no apology for the mess and stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed, waiting for me to speak. I put the bag of sandwiches on the table. “I’ve got you some food.”

“I didn’t want any food.”

“Well, I was hungry and I’m willing to bet my car that you don’t have anything to eat indoors. I’d bet you haven’t eaten properly for days.”

“Nobody wants a Hyundai, that’s a shit bet.”

I walked over to the fridge and I could see she was considering stopping me. “It beats your old Kia.” She smiled but still stood there nervous and threatening. “If there’s food in here that I can make a meal with or even a snack, I’ll give you the keys to my car right now and take the bus home. Which I’m sure you’d quite enjoy, by the way. But if I’m right and there’s no food in here, I win the bet and we need to talk about it.”

“Talk about what?” There was an immediate shift in her tone from argumentative to nervousness.

“You missed training, you never do that,” I observed.

“I wasn’t feeling up to it.”

“I know, Holly. Because you’re depressed, you’re no longer eating and I strongly suspect you’re harming yourself again. So that is what we’re going to talk about after I open this fridge,” I said harshly and deliberately.

“Fuck you,” she said quietly. I ignored her and opened the fridge. I nodded when I saw it. It was empty bar some bottles of water, bottles of beer and an unopened peanut butter jar at the back.

“I can check your cupboards next and we can increase the bet? I bet that if your cupboards have in-date, in-use items, I’ll go and find another job. But if it doesn’t, you have to stop pushing me away.”

I paused and looked at her. “Please don’t,” she said quietly.

“No, you’re right, asking you to stop pushing me away is a bit too high stakes.”

She smiled weakly at that and I knew my tough approach was getting through to her which is what I’d hoped. I was doubly rewarded when she quietly added, “Please don’t leave, I mean. Your job.”

I smiled. “You still lost the first bet, even if the second one is null and void.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Tom.”

“Look, I’ll make you a deal,” I saw her roll her eyes which made me chuckle. “No you’ll like this one: if you have some of the sandwich and line your stomach a bit, we can have a beer each while we talk.”

“If I have some of the sandwich will you leave?” Her steel-eyed expression was back again and I saw the warning signs. I’d given her a way out and I wasn’t going to out-manoeuvre Holly Dane on the playing field, nobody could do that. I sighed. Shit.

“Yes, then I’ll leave,” I confirmed.

She took the sandwich pack from me and went to the cupboard to look for a plate. It was empty. She pulled open the dishwasher and I saw that the plates were dirty. “I’ve been busy,” she said, pulling out a less dirty one and using it to catch the crumbs.

I opened my sandwich too and we ate in silence. I was famished so I finished it before Holly had got to her third bite. She was playing with it, trying to make it look like she’d eaten more than she had by squashing the bread in on itself.

I gave her as long as I could and then stood up. I’d made far more progress than I ever expected to make and it gave me renewed determination to keep going.

“What are you doing?” Holly asked.

“I’m leaving. You’ve eaten as much as you’re gonna eat and I said I’d leave afterwards.” I didn’t want to push it.

“Oh.” I couldn’t place her expression. Relief, maybe?

“I’m glad we got to talk. Look forward to seeing you in training tomorrow.”

I smiled at her, trying to look for the person beyond the one in front of me. Was she still there, trying to climb out of the darkness? I write sports, not poetry so that was as good as I could describe it. She didn’t smile back, just looked at me blankly.

I let myself out and walked out of sight to the lift. I heard Holly’s door lock on my way. I hit the button a few times, thinking it over. I wanted to go back. What if I had missed my opening and she closed back off again the next day? Holly had changed beyond almost all recognition but her stubborn streak remained.

I found myself walking away from the ‘ding’ of the lift opening and back towards her door. I stood outside her door for a few seconds facing a new wave of indecision. Was I about to undo all the progress I had just made? I recognised her but I could no longer understand her and that was leading to decision paralysis.

Before I could knock, I heard what I could only describe as a howl of pain coming from Holly’s apartment, followed by the sounds of things being chucked against a wall.

I hammered on the door over the sounds of crashing plates. “Holly, are you okay?” I hammered again frantically.

The breaking stopped and all I could hear in its place was the sound of sobbing behind the door. “Holly, let me in,” I demanded after a few seconds.

I heard her shuffle over, sniffing and trying to bring her breathing under control. “Holly, let me in,” I repeated more softly.

I heard her unlocking the door slowly this time. She stood before me with her cheeks red and eyes streaming with tears. There were smears of blood on her face as well, to my immediate horror, but no cuts. Her t-shirt also had smears of blood on it. I looked in her hand and saw a piece of broken plate there. I looked up at her and saw fear in her eyes as she made the same connection. I don’t think she realised she was still holding the shard.

I walked in and shut the door slowly behind me, trying not to frighten her. “Holly, please pass that over to me,” I said calmly.

“I didn’t Tom, I promise I didn’t,” she said in a panic.

“I know, I believe you.” The blood was clearly from squeezing the shard too hard and then wiping at her tears.

Thankfully porcelain plates didn’t break like glass so it wasn’t as deep as it could have been. I got a bunch of kitchen paper from her kitchen island and balled it up. I took the shard from her hand slowly, having to pull it out with a bit of force. Holly gasped and leaned into my shoulder, looking away. I bunched up the tissues and had her hold her fist closed.

“Have you got a first aid kit?” Holly shook her head, of course she hadn’t. “Okay, I’m going to get one from my car. Are you okay if I take your key?”

I sat Holly up on the breakfast bar and opened a bottle of water before I raced down, taking the stairs. I pressed the call button when I got to the ground floor so the lift would be waiting for me when I got back – I was not racing up four flights of stairs!

I always kept a first aid kit in my car in case it was needed during a game. It never was, we’d moved up the divisions and actually had proper medical equipment now, but it was an old habit that I was grateful for at that moment.

When I returned, Holly was still in the same place and was just sobbing quietly. She looked up when I returned, relief evident but also real fear. “I’m in a bad way Tom,” she said quietly.

“With your hand or everything? Dumb question but I need to check. Blood loss and all that.”

She laughed but it was more in a humourless way. She watched as I got the stuff out of the kit so I could clean and wrap her wound. “Everything,” she whispered. It was such a while later, that I almost forgot what I asked.

“I promise I’m here for you Hollywood.”

I dabbed at her wound before running alcohol wipes over the area. Holly gasped but otherwise kept quiet. I ran a bandage around her hand and tied it up. That would have to do.

“I don’t want to make you hate me anymore. I can’t do it, it’s too much pain,” she trembled, her vulnerability finally creating a space for honesty.

“Holly, I don’t hate you and nothing you can do would make me hate you, so you’ve been wasting your time,” I insisted. I put a reassuring arm around her and she let me. It was the first intimate touch we’d had since she returned and I saw her physically relax into it.

“If you were in my head you’d hate me,” she whispered. “I hate me.”

I gulped. “How have you hidden all of this from the medical team?” I kept my tone even but I was angry. They should have seen this.

“They know. About the weight loss and the appetite. They want me to see a therapist.” Holly spoke about it mechanically, and clinically. “They don’t know about the other stuff, only you’ve ever known about that.”

I paused my questioning and focused on checking the bandage around her hand was doing its job. “That’s deep enough to need stitches, I’m going to need to take you to the hospital.”

Holly looked at me like I was mad. “Have you seen the state of me? I can’t go to the hospital like this. What if a kid wants a picture and the press gets hold of it? How’s that going to look? I can see the headlines: ‘Dane in a daze after breakup’ or ‘Holly has a breakdown after fleeing her ex’.”

“It’s been months Holly, nobody will care for a headline like that. It’s old news!” I reassured her.

“Yeah?” said Holly in response, her eyes wild. “Go on my Instagram and have a look at the private messages. Tell me then that everyone has forgotten. Or the porn sites all over the web that still won’t take it down. See how many views it gets daily. Or what some of the players say when they’re crunching me on the grass.”

“I don’t want to,” I said firmly. Right then, I started to get an idea of how bad it was for her.

She unlocked her phone and got Instagram up before handing it to me. “Look at it,” she demanded painfully but forcefully. I scrolled through tons of messages including screen grabs of the video. Some made my skin crawl. I looked at the date stamp. “This is only since Saturday?! Do you… do you read them all?”

Holly gave a small nod. I looked at her only inches away from me and saw the fear in her. “I won’t show you the emails and other social media if you’re looking like that just from Instagram.”

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to find words.

“Do you see why I can’t go to the hospital looking like this?”

I hated that she was right. I hated why she was right, but she was. If those headlines came true, I wasn’t sure if she could get through it, even with my support. Which I wasn’t yet sure she was going to continue to want after tonight.

“How about putting some makeup on then and brushing your hair?”

Holly held up her bandaged hand. “Yeah, doing it left-handed would look great. It’d be as bad as you doing it.”

“Well, that throws my next suggestion out of the window,” I joked.

Holly laughed, actually laughed at that. It warmed my heart more than I could say, especially after reading those messages.

I thought over alternative suggestions, taking into consideration her hand and landed on one that seemed the most feasible but I was most hesitant about. “What about if I help you have a bath?” I said, not feeling great about the idea.

“Trust me, Tom, you don’t want to see me naked right now.”

It wasn’t a flat-out ‘no’ which meant Holly knew it was the best option too. “I promise to be as appropriate as possible, I’ll try not to look at anything you don’t want me to see.” I wasn’t talking about her private areas.

Holly sighed and nodded. “Bathroom’s that way,” she said, pointing to her left. “I’m going to go and get some clothes.” I watched her go and then took the direction she instructed. By the time she came back in, I was running her a warm bath which was rising rapidly. The plumbing definitely was something to brag about in the building.

“Let me know when you’re ready to take your clothes off and I’ll turn away.” I carried on messing with the taps to get the temperature right for her.

“I think I’d like you to see what I look like now so it’s over with before you see me in the bath. I’ll tell you when to turn around, just don’t make a fuss, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, looking into the bath and seeing my reflection. The bubbles in the bath didn’t help but I already felt I looked paler and I had a pit in my stomach.

I could hear Holly taking her clothes off slowly, broken by the occasional sigh of pain. “You’re going to need to tell me which bruises really hurt so I know to try and avoid them.”

“It won’t be hard to tell,” she said.

There was a pause and then she sighed. “I’ve had so many nightmares about you seeing me like this over the last few months and how you’d react. How you’d no longer see the person you knew and instead you’d see the dirty whore everyone says I am. The idea of you thinking that about me…” she trailed off.

The silence reminded me that my hand was still in the water, heat rising. I turned the cold water on, trying to find words, any words.

“Now here we are and I feel strangely calm,” she continued. “I guess I’ve just realised this second that not even you can like me if I don’t like myself.”

I smiled and had to breathe myself through some tears. “Okay, bath’s ready,” I said, voice catching. “Am I okay to turn around?” I couldn’t respond to what she’d said or I’d break and I was trying to be strong for Holly.

“Yeah, just don’t stare please.”

I turned around with my eyes aiming for where I knew her voice to be. Holly stood to the side and was looking down at the floor between us, unable to look me in the eye. I held out my hand, my eyes still looking at her unfocused hazel ones and brought her over to the bath ahead of me. She leaned over the bath to check the temperature and I saw a large bruise over her kidney which I hadn’t seen from my angle the other day. Her bum also had bruising from the number of falls she had been taking.

“Stop checking out my ass,” she said. I could hear the playfulness in her voice, and the slight growth in confidence.

“Guilty,” I lied.

She got in slowly and I helped her in, which gave me a view of her front as she sat down. I’d seen most of it the other day, the only thing that was hard to ignore was her small, pointed nipples, which hadn’t changed at all. I bypassed the cuts over her inner thighs which were red raw and considerable.

I squeezed a cloth and soaped it up, setting about gently washing her. I worked my way from her (good) hand to her shoulders, neck and back the other way. Then I gently did her back, being extra careful with her bruises. By the time I got to her front, she was leaning back against the bath and her eyes were closed. They opened slowly and watched me clean her breasts and then her stomach.

“Maybe you should do the next bit but I’d like to do your legs if that’s okay. They need taking care of as they’re worth so much,” I joked.

Holly gasped a little as she got to her thighs. “I’ve got some cream in the first aid kit that may help,” I said gently. She nodded, focused on gentle tapping at the cuts with the cloth. I looked away before she looked up and handed me the cloth again. I continued washing her legs clean and then I got to her feet and did the same.

“Now I get to wash your hair,” I said, a little too excitedly.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this?”

“That would be because I am. Your hair is magic to me, always has been.”

“Why?” Holly said with a laugh. “It’s just hair!”

“I know that but you’re the only blonde woman I’ve ever really fancied.”

Holly looked up at me as I was talking and then shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’re still being so nice to me. I’ve done everything I could to push you away. It has nearly killed me doing it but I did it so you wouldn’t have to do this,” she said, indicating the situation with an expression of deep sadness.

“You know why Holly,” I said gently.

Silence fell between us and for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. “Tom, would it completely kill the mood if I asked you to kiss me? Just on the lips.”

I hesitated for a brief moment and then I leaned over without replying and kissed Holly gently. Our lips caught each other’s and connected perfectly. I felt the spark immediately. It had never gone, it couldn’t have if it felt this strongly already. I closed my eyes and Holly did the same. When we broke apart, neither of us opened our eyes for a few seconds, taking it in.

I carried on with my original task with renewed hope, moving to her hair which I washed using the showerhead connected to the bath. I helped Holly out and wrapped her tightly in a huge towel then got another for her hair.

“We really should get to the hospital soon,” I pointed out.

I drove her there in my car, after assuring her I’d be fine to go. “There’s a difference between going to a hospital and being triggered by people who are dying and taking you to get your hand stitched up,” I said.

We sat in the car in silence, just the radio for company. It didn’t bother me at all as I knew Holly was deep in thought. I was too, given everything that had happened and I didn’t have half as much going on. The hospital had us fill out some forms and then we took a seat ready to wait a few hours.

“Would you mind going to get me some coffee?” Holly asked.

“Sure, a cappuccino?” I teased.

It made Holly smile and I left her without needing a reply. When I returned with a coffee each she took it with thanks and kept her phone open on the home screen on her lap.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked, trying to play it cool but worried she had started to read more messages on Instagram.

Holly took a sip and let out a deep sigh of contentment. “I should have asked you to get me a cake,” she said longingly.

“Well let me go back,” I said, already jumping up. I could already see her coming back to life now she’d decided to let me in.

“Do you mind? It’s nice to feel hungry again.”

“Not in the slightest Hollywood.”

“Thanks, Tom,” she said quietly.

“You’re not calling me Tank anymore,” I noted.

She smiled sadly. “I’ve realised I’ll need to let go of some of the old things, Tom. Some of the old parts of me or I’m never going to move forward with my life. You were Tank when I was a different person. I’m not that person and I can’t be anymore. I need to accept that and stop taking it out on you.”

“Would it help if I stop calling you Hollywood? I can think of a better nickname?”

“Yeah, I’d like that, it was always a bit shit anyway.” Her smile had reached her hazel eyes and it was a beautiful sight.

I chuckled and went off again. I bought Holly four different cake and cookie options as I had no idea what she wanted anymore. I saw that she picked the oatmeal and raisin cookie when I returned and made a mental note for future reference.

We left the hospital after midnight and I was exhausted as was Holly, her palm and fingers now properly stitched and bandaged. Holly offered me her couch to save me the drive home. I took the offer and set an early alarm so I could get home and change. Holly had to give me one of her own pillows to sleep on before she went to sleep as she had no spare ones. I shook my head in a jokey way and left her to go to sleep.

As tired as I was, I struggled to get my brain to rest, as I replayed almost every moment of the evening and tried to interpret what it meant. Holly crept by in the middle of the night to use the bathroom while I pretended to be asleep. I saw her pause on the way back through at the kitchen island and then turn around to look at me. It was too dark to see her face properly and then she was gone.

I awoke the next morning at the sound of my alarm and I jumped up quickly, wanting Holly to get as much sleep as possible. I tried to tidy up a little bit, as quietly as I could. I wasn’t necessarily a neat freak but experience had taught me it becomes very quick to be overwhelmed again after you turn the hypothetical corner. I didn’t want Holly to walk out of her bedroom and see chaos. It was when I was putting the plates in the dishwasher that I saw Holly had written a note out for me on the counter during the night.

Tom,

You’ll never know how much you did for me today. I’m still in a bad way but knowing you still won’t give up on me makes all the difference.

Holly

I re-read her note multiple times and debated taking it with me. But it felt better knowing it would stay with her. I wrote a message underneath it.

Holly,

You’re the bravest woman I know. You never stay down, it’s who you are. I’ll be here to watch you get back up again.

Tom x

P.s Call me sometime, you have my number.

I picked Georgia up a couple of hours later with two large coffees in the holders. “What’s the occasion?” Georgia eyed me suspiciously. “Ew, you’ve had a girl over.”

I laughed loudly. “Nope, but good luck getting that image out of your head.”

We drove in silence for a while until I had a brainwave. “Do me a favour, message Alf and get him to come in and talk some pictures of Holly for your social media posts.”

“We’re not sure she’ll be in, are we?”

“She’ll be there,” I said confidently.

Sure enough, Holly was on the training pitch when I walked down the corridor and looked across the field through the gallery window. She looked to be taking part in a possession drill and was going in with full intensity. She looked focused. When the drill broke down, she had a conversation with her training partners and then went to do some keepie uppies to the slide, tongue pressed against her cheek in concentration. Alf was on the edge of the field snapping away. I walked back to my office with a wide smile.

Holly caught me on her way to the car park after training. By that, I mean that I made sure I was hanging around at the right time ‘by pure coincidence’. Holly went to hug me and then stopped herself, aware of where she was and I guess not quite ready to have to answer questions.

“I saw your note,” she said, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “Do you want to hang out later?”

“Sure,” I said, not about to play it cool. “Why don’t you come over to my house, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“Tom, I’m very comfortable with you, so yes, I look forward to seeing your bachelor pad. I’ll message you in a little bit so you can text me your address. I have some things to do this afternoon and I expect it’s going to make you quite busy so I’ll bring some beers with me to apologise.”

“Wait, what? What are you gonna do?” I asked to her retreating back. She just pulled up the hood of her grey hoodie and kept walking.

It was just after lunch when Georgia discovered why I was going to be busy. “Erm Tom, I just tried to tag Holly in these pictures and she’s deleted her accounts, Facebook and Instagram.”

Work-Tom groaned but the Tom who was in love with Holly wanted to punch the air in celebration. “Oh great,” I said, playing it cool by relying on my sarcasm. “So glad she didn’t tell us, I’m sure she’d hate knowing she’d just killed our afternoon.”

As expected, we got calls from the press trying to dig for a story. “Has she been suspended by the club?”, “Is this to do with the video?”

I downplayed it all and eventually managed to quieten down the questions enough for us to leave. Georgia had kept an eye on social media and reported any posts that contained some of the more offensive comments. Holly had messaged me earlier in the day with a cute little emoji and an apology. She was coming over just after rush hour had died down which gave me some time to clean up.

When she arrived I got a proper hug and a very quick kiss on the cheek that Holly looked extremely embarrassed about. I glossed over it, not intending to make her feel bad about anything while she was around me. I gave her a little tour which didn’t take long and then invited her to sit down while I cracked open a couple of the San Miguels she had brought over. “You still drink them, right?”

“How do you remember that?!” I replied.

She didn’t answer, just clicked my bottle.

“How bad was it today?” Holly asked, pointing toward her phone.

I chuckled. “You’ve created quite a stir. I had to let Caroline know in case she started getting calls about a falling out.”

“She knows, I told her I was going to do it and I’ve asked to be put in touch with a therapist. I need to face my shit, not run from it or else use you as one.”

“I don’t mind Holly, whatever you need,” I said, genuinely.

“Na, you’ve heard enough. Besides, I have other uses for you,” she said with a wink. I felt my pulse quicken.

“My my, is Holly Dane flirting with me?”

“It’s less sexy when you refer to me in the 3rd person like that,” she quipped.

She paused and then looked me in the eyes, trapping me in her hazel. “What were the comments like?”

I knew what she meant. “They were fine,” I somewhat lied. “Not as bad as you think.”

She nodded but didn’t buy it, as far as I could see. “Have you watched the video? Be honest with me.”

Well, that’s a mood killer, I thought. This wasn’t something I could lie about to save her feelings. If she caught me out on this one, it wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

“Yes but not for… pleasure,” I said, somewhat awkwardly, refusing to look at her. “I was making sure I wasn’t about to see one of my team in it.”

“I hate that you saw it.”

I didn’t have anything to say so I didn’t say anything. “Does it bother you that I had a lot of sex when I moved to America?” Quite the contrast from our initial conversations about sex all those years ago.

I took a sip of beer, thinking about it. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t love what I picture when I think about that but it was always a possibility that you’d do it after investing so much in me and that falling apart as it did.”

“You knew, didn’t you? In the pub, when I broke up with you.” Holly kicked her trainers off and crossed her legs on the sofa, positioning herself in the corner of one side, facing me.

“I like that you’re making yourself comfortable,” I said with a smile, finally turning to look at her and not staring ahead at the tv. “And yes, I knew.”

“You’ve always been able to see into me, I’ve never known anyone to be able to do that as you do.”

“Not even your exes?” I recklessly asked, immediately not wanting to know the answer.

Holly didn’t hide her surprise at my question. “No, they always saw what I’ve wanted them to see. They all liked versions of me, some of them liked the same version. Lucas liked the housewife version in company and the slut in private. Or, what was in private.”

She took a long swig of beer and took a lot of the bottle with it. I pushed the crisps and nuts I’d put out towards her and she took a couple in her hand. It was a better answer than I thought, in a way. The conversation was awkward but felt necessary to clear the air.

“It’s much easier to be the someone that someone else wants you to be. There’s much less to put on the line. I’ve never been able to be myself with anyone but you and closing myself back off after you was so painful. Hell, I don’t even talk like this with anyone but you.” She laughed as she finished what she was saying, shaking her head in a bit of disbelief.

At some point, I’d stopped drinking my beer as I had been following Holly’s every word. I stared into her eyes and smiled as she brushed her hair away.

“I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?” She blushed, it always looked good on her when she did that. It was the kind of cute look that I knew could get her anything from anyone. Her trouble was that she didn’t blush for anyone but me, it seemed.

“You’re talking a good amount. This is good, I like it a lot Holly. Would you like to eat something?”

“Erm, maybe. Could you get whatever you fancy and then I’ll just pick at it?”

I smiled reassuringly, no pressure. “I’ll order some Chinese,” I said, getting out my phone and hunting for the delivery app.

We paused any further deep conversations while we waited for the food and ate it. Holly had a small bowl of boiled rice with an even smaller bit of chicken noodles on top but I didn’t press it, just told her where the crockery was and encouraged her to help herself. By the end of the night and with very little discussion about it, Holly stayed over. I took the couch again, I wouldn’t hear a word against it.

She too left early the next morning and then was back again that evening. That continued for a couple of days as we slowly got used to being around each other again. For one of the evenings, I cooked and made some fries on the side which she picked at while dipping them into tomato ketchup. She tried a small bite of the leftover chicken kebab on my plate and her eyes went wide. “This is excellent, when did you learn to cook?”

“I uh, fell into a bit of a bad depression when you left, to tell you the truth.”

“-I’m so sorry.”

“Holly, don’t be. We need to learn to talk to each other about that time without apologising about it, myself included or we’ll create real communication problems for ourselves. The reality is, that period shaped us both,” I said gently, taking her by the hand and leading us over to the couch now that we’d finished eating.

“You’re right,” she said, making herself comfortable again. “Continue.”

“Oh yeah, ha,” I chuckled, completely distracted by Holly making herself at home. “So bad depression, yeah. It took me a while to get out of it and when I did, I made some changes. I stayed on top of keeping where I was living tidy and I made sure to cook for myself too because not doing those things or not being able to do them, was a warning. Or is a warning, as I’m sometimes still in that place.”

“Two things: one, is that why you cleaned up for me the other day? And two, has how I’ve been treating you been bringing that out? Don’t look at me like that,” she added, “you said yourself it was important to communicate.”

“Yes, it was why I tidied. I personally would have found it overwhelming and if you’re like me, I wanted to take some of that away from you. And no, your behaviour made me extremely sad but not depressed.”

“I’m sorry, Tom.”

“We just said -”

“No, Tom. I haven’t apologised properly. I kind of explained why I did it but I am truly sorry.” Holly put her hand over mine and looked at me for forgiveness. I took her hand and kissed it.

“You’re forgiven, my dear.”

Holly smiled. “Maybe try the kiss again with a different name.”

“You’re forgiven, my angel. Na, strike that, you swear like a sailor.” We both laughed.

“You’re forgiven, baby,” I said gently.

“I like that. Now try the name again and kiss me in a different place.”

I smiled and moved over to Holly’s lips and slowly kissed them. “You’re forgiven, baby.”

Holly wrapped her arms around me and we started to kiss passionately. Her tongue was tentative as she met mine so I went slow, allowing her to control the pace. I kept my hands gently on her sides, just enjoying being close to her. We kissed in that position for a long while, Holly frequently tucking her hair behind her ears as our kisses grew in intensity. We really started to get into it, especially Holly, who surprised me with her energy. She moaned into my mouth when I bit her lip gently and then she bit my lip slightly harder.

I went back to using my tongue while I reminded myself to keep my hands under control. My job was made even harder when Holly started to grind on me.

After a few minutes of her grinding, she stopped her movements and pulled away from my lips, sitting on top of me. “Wow,” she said breathlessly.

“Are you okay?” I asked, immediately concerned.

“More than okay, I’m soaking wet,” she said with her eyes now quite wide and her head thrown back slightly so she was looking up towards the wall above me, almost in a state of shock.

“That is a good thing, right?” I was suddenly very confused.

“Sorry, I just haven’t been turned on in a very, very long time.”

I smiled and tried not to let my ego get too big. It was hard not to, knowing I’d turned Holly on that much. I debated asking if I could take it further for her.

“Would you like to go a bit further?” I asked. I saw an immediate shift in her behaviour into nerves. “Not like sex,” I quickly added. “My fingers or my mouth. Nothing in return, I just want to make you feel good baby.”

“I really like you calling me that,” she whispered. She paused, looking at me and turning it over in her mind. “Are you sure you’re okay with what you’re suggesting and getting nothing in return?”

“Absolutely. I’d be honoured and I mean that Holly.”

Holly looked emotional and stared at me for a long time, weighing it all up. I waited patiently, not seeking to put any pressure on her. “Okay, could you maybe use your hand a little bit? I may not cum but it’ll be enough for me just to feel you inside me.” Holly leaned over and added in a whisper, “where you belong.”

“Oh God,” I groaned in response while she was already unzipping her jeans which were quite loose. She kept her t-shirt on and she didn’t pull down her jeans which gave me limited space to work but it’d have to do.

I started slowly, running my finger along her pussy, feeling her wetness. I pulled her into a kiss a split second before my finger made contact with her clit and her eyes shot open wide. She renewed her kissing with intensity when she felt me start to really focus on her clit and rub it gently. When she broke away, I ran my hand down her pussy and moved her lips apart so my finger could find her wet hole.

I wasn’t prepared for how tight she was. It required a bit of push to even get my finger in halfway and by that point, she was starting to moan. “Oh, baby. This is happening, I can’t believe this is happening.”

I kissed her lips and then her cheek and neck, covering her with kisses as I moved my finger slowly in and out. I couldn’t feel anything more of her but where my fingers were and where our lips met but yet, I felt we were connecting as one in totality. She surprised me after I worked a finger in by taking hold of my hard cock over my jeans. She felt it from every angle she could and then gripped it hard, holding it in her hand while I continued to finger her.

“I’m imagining this inside me,” she whispered. “I want it so bad right now.”

“There’s no rush baby, just do what feels right,” I responded.

My wrist was starting to ache and cramp from my actions and Holly could tell me from my erratic movements. She kissed me once more while looking me in the eyes and took my hand away. “I’m not going to cum, I’m not going to get there,” she said. There was no hint of frustration, if anything she seemed pleased to have gotten this far.

“I want to help you now,” she said firmly.

“No, that wasn’t what we agreed. I don’t want to take advantage – you,” I paused as she started to unzip me. “-don’t need to do anything,” I finished.

“You’re not taking advantage, I want to do this. Need to do it.”

She took my cock out in her hands and slowly stroked it. Her hands were a little clammy, probably from our closeness and perhaps her nervousness. If she was nervous though, she didn’t show it. “I should have been doing this to you, nobody else. Just you.” There was a trace of bitterness there.

She slowly lowered her mouth to my cock while internally I battled my desire to be close to her with my worry of taking advantage. Holly sensed my tension. “It’s okay, I know I’m safe with you. I want this.”

She started to lick the tip and then kiss the head of my cock, pressing her lips around it. I was amazed she was trying to reassure me right then. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “Holly, wait,” I said firmly.

She pulled up and looked at me with the start of a panic. “Sorry, I’m moving too fast, you’re not there yet and -”

“What, no! Of course, I’m there, I’ve always been there. But Holly, I need you to tell me you know you can stop this at any time. You’re in control, okay?”

Maybe I was crazy to want to reassure her when her mouth was already around my cock but I needed that reassurance too. A few days ago she was on the edge of something very dark and now we were here. That was a lot of progress and I wasn’t sure how much was real or perceived.

“Trust me, I know,” she said firmly, with just a hint of smugness.

She moved her head back down and started to suck my cock again. Only this time, it wasn’t as slow or teasing. She meant to show me she was determined. Within about 30 seconds, I knew my longevity was in trouble. She was extremely good at giving head. Her mouth left my cock after taking a fair proportion of it down her throat and her saliva hung from her mouth to my cock head, with a considerable amount hanging around my cock.

“Yeah, I make a lot of saliva when I have something in my mouth, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, this is already the best blowjob I’ve had,” I gasped, completely at her mercy.

She sucked on my balls as she stroked my cock, ensuring her saliva made it all the way down. “I’m rusty,” she said, which made me laugh out loud. “I should be deepthroating your cock by now.”

“Oh my god Holly, this is crazy,” I said in amazement.

“Are you okay?”

“Hell yes.”

I felt like I was going to die from her every touch but I felt great about it!

“I’m going to make you cum now, strap in,” she declared with confidence.

I took her suggestion seriously and gripped the cushions on either side of me. Holly wasn’t exaggerating, she really was going at it to make me cum. She started to stroke the lower half of my cock while her mouth licked and sucked the top half. With the way her mouth released her saliva, it coated my cock with the most pleasurable feeling. It was like a wet, sloppy blowjob that never got messy. I felt myself starting to come.

“I’m going to cum baby.”

Holly’s eyes widened in excitement and she kept sucking. When I felt my balls start to boil and my cum start to climb to the surface, it took all my effort not to thrust my hips upwards. Holly knew it was coming and seconds before I was about to cum, she pushed my cock into her throat and I spasmed down it.

I’d never had that happen to me before and I was loud about it. “HOLY FUCK, OH MY GOD!” I wasn’t even trying to downplay it, Holly was giving me the best sexual experience I’d ever had.

She had to pull my cock from her throat while I was still cumming but kept me in her mouth until she needed to breathe and cough. “Holy fuck Holly, that was the best I’ve ever had,” I expressed in amazement.

Holly calmed down and smiled at me. “I’m so glad,” she said genuinely. She laid her head on my stomach, her hair had amazingly stayed in its ponytail. “I’m going to go and wash my mouth out so we can kiss,” she said, making a move to stand up.

I took hold of her gently but firmly, pulling her towards me as I met her in the middle. I kissed her and then stuck my tongue against her lips, requesting entry. She let me, eyes wide and then melted into our kiss. We kissed for so long my soft cock started to get hard again and I’d long since lost the taste of my salty cum that was in her mouth.

Holly broke away, looking at me in amazement. “Nobody has ever kissed me afterwards,” she said.

“They’re idiots,” I said simply and kissed her with my tongue again, to reinforce the point.

“I’m so wet,” she whispered.

My heart leapt. “Can I?” I left the question hanging there.

To my disappointment, she shook her head. “I’m not ready for you to be that close to… you know, my thighs.”

There was shame there and I tried not to let it get to me. This wouldn’t be an overnight recovery. I nodded in understanding.

“Would you mind if I went to the bathroom and… sorted myself out?”

The implication was clear and I was delighted about it, even though I wanted to be the one to do it. “Of course, I’ll turn the tv up so you have some privacy.”

She looked at me full of emotion. “Why didn’t they make one of you in America?”

I laughed but said nothing to that. Holly turned away and went to my bathroom (she had already critiqued the lack of bath and preferred me to call it a ‘shower room’). Before she closed it she looked at me intensely, taking me in.

She emerged about 15 minutes later, her hair wet from what must have been a quick shower. During that time I’d got out some old clothes for her and made up the sofa.

“I forgot how good orgasms were,” she announced upon exiting the bathroom.

“You just gave me the best one I ever had, so I’m not sure my memory is the same,” I quipped.

She came over and got my spare clothes, walking back towards the bathroom.

“Holly,” she turned around, holding her towel up as she did. “It’s okay if this is a no or it’s too soon, but maybe it would be a good idea for you to leave a toothbrush and a change of clothes around here?”

She smiled brightly. “Deal.”

When she emerged from the bathroom again in my spare shorts and an England top, I pointed to it, “you’ll be playing for them again in no time,” I said.

“I hope so, the restraining order expires soon and they said they wouldn’t pick me while I had one so…” Holly let it hang there, thoughts on the upcoming European Championships in the summer.

When she noticed I had got the sheets out and planned to sleep on the sofa, she was hearing none of it. We slept in bed together that night. Holly pushed her body as close to me as she could and curled into me as a little spoon.

“If you snore in my ear, I’ll fucking kill you,” she joked. Or said seriously, depending on my snoring pattern.

“I don’t snore but then I haven’t broken my nose, so perhaps I need to turn that comment onto you,” I teased, letting her know I had followed her time in America and had seen the nasty clash of heads during one of her games.

“I do snore,” she admitted.

“Fuck, you’re lucky I love you.” I said it before I knew what I’d said. We both stopped and became very still for a good minute. I was unwilling and frankly, unable, to take it back.

Holly took my hand and kissed it. Her cheeks felt very wet.

“I’m not saying it back until I start to feel the same about myself,” she said quietly.

I kissed the back of her head and said nothing else.

“These shorts keep falling down, you must have good birthing hips,” she quipped.

It took her almost a month until she stopped sleeping in shorts around me. When she did, her cuts were almost healed and they joined the rest of the scars from many years before.

***

Holly practically moved in in anything but name the next evening. She brought over a big black suitcase full of ‘overnight stuff’. There was so much that I abandoned giving her just a drawer and gave her some wardrobe space too.

“If you wanted to move in, you should have just said.”

“Ha, if you want me to move in, you should ask.”

“Do you want me to ask?” I asked, tiptoeing around her sizeable hint and throwing it back at her.

“Not yet, let’s not put more pressure on us.”

“Deal,” I replied reassuringly, my hopes secretly dashed.

We spent the evening discussing how we were going to make it work and how open we were going to be. “I’m not going to hide it,” Holly said firmly. “Can you handle the press?” She winked.

“I’ll just wheel you out to kick their arse if it gets too difficult.”

The next morning Holly took my ‘shitty Hyundai’ with me to training. We stopped to pick up Georgia on the way. “Holy shit,” she said when she saw us standing outside the car waiting for her. “You two are…”

“Considering I give you a lift every day,” I said, “Holly and I agreed it would be too much of a fuss to hide her in the boot.”

Holly took the back seat and let Georgia sit up top. “This is your ride, I’m just gatecrashing,” she said, handing Georgia her coffee that she’d bought that morning. “I’m hoping we can become friends. Tom tells me you want to get into communications or press for one of the Men’s teams. I can help you if you want. I know some people.”

Holly went out of her way to befriend Georgia, which was entirely for my benefit, even offering to give her an exclusive interview at some point in the future about some of the topics she never discussed – namely, her health, anxiety and depression, which was aligned to Georgia’s interests since her days of doing her dissertation at University.

Later that day, we were periodically interrupted by various members of the team sticking their heads into the office and looking at me giggling. “No fucking way, you and Holly!” became the frequent comment.

We didn’t have to worry about a press leak, I was our press at the club and none of the team was going to risk Holly’s happiness – if nothing else than because she took it to another level in training over the next few days. It was only when I watched her a couple of days later did I realise that she was simply going through the motions over the last few months. That was Holly Dane going through the motions. We were all in awe when we saw her take it up another level. Alf, the only person at the club who was unaware, genuinely questioned if she was on performance-enhancing drugs.

When matchday arrived, I again took my seat near the tunnel as it was a home game. Holly took her position at Centre Back and looked right at me almost until the whistle blew. The stare was so intense I felt myself going red.

“What was that stare about?” I asked after the game where we run out 2-0 winners.

“I was reminding myself how good my life can be, if I let it. I have something to get up for on the pitch now,” she said with feeling.

“As opposed to just stubbornness?” I choked out in response, deeply touched. We both laughed, coming together in a close embrace.

At half-time, Holly’s Mum made her way over. “Hi Tom,” she said, extending a hand. “We should have met years ago, shouldn’t we?”

“Hi Sylvia,” I replied, taking her hand and smiling warmly. “Hi Charlotte, Amelia,” I added, shaking theirs too. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

All three of them laughed at my courtesy. “You’re all we heard about for years,” Charlotte said with a chuckle.

“Oh is that so?” I said with a smirk. “You’re welcome to join me and tell me everything,” I offered.

They did indeed join me. When Holly emerged from the changing room for the second half and saw us sitting together, it was the only time in the whole game that she appeared flustered.

The 5 of us went out to dinner after the game. I tried to make an excuse on Holly’s behalf as I knew she wasn’t ready to be out in public yet, especially not at a meal, but her family were insistent and it would have raised questions if we made too big a deal of it. Holly did a good job hiding her bruises but to be truthful, it was getting better, the derby day aside. Holly picked a side salad as her main course and I immediately sensed the danger when I saw Sylvia’s face.