Game On (Game On 1)

“Leah, have you finished? I need to shower!”

I unlocked the door and went back into the bedroom where Freya hovered, waiting to get ready.

“Hey there, sexy lady!”

I stared at her to check if she was joking. She wasn’t.

In the full length mirror in the corner of the room, I eyed myself critically again. I couldn’t deny I looked good in red, and the spaghetti straps helped to show off my tan.

But it was so short.

“I think I look a bit … slutty.”

“You do not!” Freya placed her hands on my waist. “What’s the point of being cute and petite if you’re not gonna flaunt it?”

“Don’t you think Will might assume I’m trying too hard to impress a certain crazy haired coach if I wear this? I think I’ll get changed.”

“Leah, we’re going clubbing! All the girls will be wearing short dresses, and you don’t have to worry about what anyone thinks. You’re so British.”

Freya often mocked me for occasionally being a stereotypical reserved Brit but I grew up in the countryside, in a place where you couldn’t so much as sneeze without people knowing and having something to say.

You’re not there anymore. You’re free to do, and wear, what you want. Stop being so sensible!

“And you’re sure I don’t look like a five dollar hooker?”

“I’m sure.”

Checking myself out in the mirror a third time, I sighed. “Okay, I’ll be brave.”

At nine-thirty we headed down to the lobby to meet Will, Bree and Miguel. The sight that greeted us made my mouth drop open. In addition to the people we were supposed to be meeting were Jude Collinson, Jesse Shaw, Jesse’s girlfriend Taylor, Bryce Warren and Radleigh McCoy.

“Well you did say the more the merrier,” I murmured, giving a small laugh.

“Don’t worry. They’ll all go off and do their own thing when we get to the club.”

I figured she was right and as we approached them, Will popped out from the crowd, halting as he took in our appearance.

“Whoa.”

“Put your tongue away,” I said with a smile.

Will grinned. “You two look … wow.”

His eyes lingered on Freya’s simple black dress, then down her long legs as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world. Actually, there was a strong possibility that Freya really was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her high cheek bones were striking and her smile could power the bright lights of Vegas for a week.

If she weren’t my best friend, I would have hated her.

“Where did all these people come from?” Freya asked, peering over Will’s shoulder.

“Word spread and this is what happened.”

“But how? We only invited Miguel and ...”

Bree. A vision of her bouncing down the hotel corridor, knocking on everyone’s doors and telling them about the night out hurtled into my mind. I opened my mouth to share my theory when an unexpected shiver rippled across my skin. The kind you feel when you know someone’s watching you. As I turned, a smile spread across McCoy’s face. His eyes flashed hungrily, like a hunter seeking out his prey.

I tried to focus on how insulting that was, not how good he looked in his black trousers and white shirt. The top two buttons were open, allowing a glimpse of his well-toned, not to mention completely hair free chest. His smooth torso amused me the first time I’d seen him whip off his shirt. Soccer players were meant to be oozing masculinity, not baby oil.

We hadn’t spoken a word to each other since he reported me to Richard. He shot me occasional smug glances, but my decision not to take the bait and scream at him for going back on his deal had kept him away.