One Good Man

Robert’s eyes bored into mine. “I hope nothing. We need you to play like you’ve been playing. We need to win.” He looked to where Janey sat. “And I don’t want a single thing to change that.”

I affected a winning smile, even as I clenched my teeth. “Relax, will you? She’s just a girl, not the black plague.”

He regarded me for a moment more and then nodded. “Just a girl. Okay, good.”

Just a girl, but the first girl I’d ever wanted to know for more than a night.

Janey

“What am I doing?” I muttered as I took the Metro back to Stade Jean-Marc. The Sunday afternoon sun was hot and bright and I felt overdressed in a minidress and boots.

“You’re interviewing a player for an article,” I said in English, garnering a stare from the woman next to me. “This is not a date.”

The woman sniffed and replied in thickly-accented but perfect English, “I should say not, I’m happily married.”

I laughed with her and some of my tension eased…only to ratchet back up again as soon as I stepped inside the small stadium.

Adrien was there, in shorts and a V-neck T-shirt, juggling a soccer ball back and forth on his knees. I approached slowly, watching him maneuver the ball with perfect control, bouncing it in the same perfect arc, over and over. Then he popped it up high enough to hit with his head. The ball went straight up, and as it came down, he caught it at the back of his neck, let it roll down his back, and then kicked it with his heel to bring it back in front where he resumed juggling it from knee to knee.

Once again, I almost remembered my camera too late. I snapped some shots of Adrien’s prowess, then crossed the grass toward him.

“That’s impressive,” I said. “Mildly.”

He grinned and then his smile melted into a slack-jawed stare as he took in my dress.

“You look…very beautiful, Janey.”

The words were like little currents of electricity, straight to my heart.

“I didn’t… I mean, I wore this to be professional…” I swallowed my fumbling words, and crossed my arms. “Merci.”

He raised his eyes to mine at my cool tone, and put on his sly smile. “You certainly didn’t come dressed to play.”

“I’m here to finish this interview.”

“Don’t you Americans have a saying? All work and no play…?”

“This article is already late,” I said. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you always ask more questions about me than the other way around.”

“Can I tell you something that I’ve noticed?”

“There you go again…”

He cocked an eyebrow, his smile widening. “You’re a terrible flirt.”

“That’s because I’m not flirting. I don’t like you.”

Adrien’s grin widened. “That remains to be seen. But you are flirting and you should smile when you flirt.”

I rolled my eyes. “Here’s a piece of advice, for now and into the future: don’t ever tell a girl who’s not smiling to smile. It’s annoying.”

“I’ll try to remember that. So you’re coming to the next game?”

“Because Brigitte invited me,” I said, not meeting his eye.

“And not because you like me.”

“Oui.”