Plunge (Alpha Athletes 1)

Let’s just say they involved drinks and certain body parts.

My head throbbed every time the driver took a sharp turn. Fuck. I couldn’t remember how many pints I had last night. Enough to give me one hell of a headache.

There had been at least three bars, and I closed down the club inside the hotel. I leaned my head against the tufted headrest. There was enough photo evidence on social media to prove it.

Rio de Janeiro was one big party. That was my plan. Party through the next three weeks. Enjoy the booze. Blow off steam. Fuck around. It was all the same to me.

I wasn’t here because I wanted to be. I didn’t give a shit about the Olympics. But my agent, Rick, convinced me my brand depended on me being here. He wanted me to care that I had a brand to protect. I had sponsorships. And if Lachlan Kenzie wasn’t at the summer games, I could kiss several of those contracts good-bye. England’s rock star keeper had to be seen on the world’s football stage, or my sponsors would be pissed. Rick pressured me into agreeing to this damn media circus.

So I flew to Rio. I stayed at the team hotel for a few nights. And I got on the bus.

By the time we pulled up to the stadium, my stomach growled. I skipped breakfast, coffee, and sleep. But the girl had been worth it. I didn’t know her name. I only knew she could fuck like a wild banshee. I left her sleeping while I grabbed my bag and headed to meet the team.

There was no reason to see her again. Practices started today. We moved into the village this afternoon. There would be more girls. I didn’t need to get tangled up with only one. I never did.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed women. Correction—I fucking loved women. My first year in the league, I learned just how much women loved me. After that, I didn’t see the point in getting tied down. Why choose one when I could have a hundred? Why limit myself? I never had to sleep alone. And I never dealt with the shit my mates did. No one nagged me. No one begged for phone calls. I didn’t get an ear bashing if I forgot her birthday. No—I had the perfect fucking scenario.

The bus lurched to a sudden stop. My head whipped forward.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.

I looked outside the window at the stadium. It was enormous. The oblong building spanned several blocks. It was going to hold 78,000 screaming fans once the games began. These weren’t any kind of fans. They weren’t the same people who showed up at track, or the wanderers waiting on rowing and sailing results. These were football fans. Rabid, obsessed people who traveled around the world to cheer for their teams.

The guys in front of me stood up, ducking their heads as they exited the bus.

I trailed behind, hopping to the ground from the last step. The flags from around the world fluttered overhead. I knew this moment was supposed to resonate with me. The blokes around me seemed to take a minute to soak it in. I could see their eyes mist. I saw them take deep breaths when they spotted the British flag. I huffed. I wasn’t into the sentimental shit. I played football. Just give me my damn kit and boots and let me out there.

The equipment crew quickly sorted our bags and hauled them to the dressing rooms. I didn’t know how long we were going to stand outside and watch flags flap in the wind. I was ready to get on the pitch. I wanted to smell the grass. See the seats. Get a feel for the stadium. Standing out here didn’t get us ready to play Germany.

“Saw things got wild for you last night.” Taylor Dirks stood next to me.

I shrugged with a grin. “You should have joined me for a few pints.” I wasn’t going to let the paps dictate my life here. I’d almost forgotten about the headlines.

He shook his head. “I don’t think my wife would like that too much.”

“Is she here?” I looked around his shoulder, pretending she would pop up behind him.

“Yeah, she’s staying with my entire family in town. We decided to make it a family trip.”

“That’s too bad. The girls in Brazil are naughty.” I adjusted my sunglasses.

“Have you slept at all since you’ve been here?” he asked.

I liked Taylor. He was one of the older footballers on the team, but I respected him. He didn’t get in my shit and he played like hell once the whistle blew. He was seasoned and everyone knew he was a family man. It made sense he was the team captain.

“No. I’m trying to enjoy all parts of the Olympic experience. Haven’t had much need for sleep.”

“Just take it easy, okay? We need you out there. I’d hate for something to interfere with you on the pitch, Lach.”

I felt the tightness in my neck. Was he getting ready to cross a line I didn’t let other players cross? I hated fucking lectures. I hated rules. I hated the condescending looks I got from the guys.

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to turn on him. “Looks like we’re headed in.” I pointed to the assembly in front of us.

I walked away before I said something I couldn’t take back.

I followed the crew through the tunnel entrance that led to the dressing rooms. It was dark and cool inside. Some of the most famous world tournaments had been played in this stadium. There were huge painted canvases of the teams who had won matches here.

It was unspoken, but we wanted to end up on this wall. And fuck it, we should. We had the best footballers in the world. As much as I hated Alex Conley, it was no mistake he was on this team. Between him and Taylor, we had the top scorers in the world. The Football Association had hand-picked these athletes to represent the United Kingdom. They were the best of the best. We shouldn’t leave Brazil without a gold medal, but we’d never won one before. Hell, we couldn’t close out any top matches in world competition. We didn’t win in London when the