Blindsided (Game On 2)

Chapter One – She’s Just A Girl

Jesse

Rain hammered against the window, jolting me awake. It took me a minute to work out why the walls were covered in flowery wallpaper, the clock was in the wrong place, and no bright sunlight streamed in through the gap in the pink - pink? - curtains.

Oh right. You’re not in L.A anymore.

I’d been warned about the British weather, and it was late November, but water should never make that much noise. Especially when I was trying to sleep.

Nine a.m. I’d hoped to sleep in a little later, still groggy from the eleven hour flight the day before. At the time, Hunter’s endless chatter had been an annoyance, but since I woke up at a reasonable hour, I was grateful for his hyperactivity keeping me conscious on the journey.

Flicking on the bedside lamp, I wondered whether I should get up, or stay in bed a while longer. What’s the protocol when staying with your best friend’s relatives? Should I wait for Hunter? Or can I just get up and help myself to breakfast? Is a full English breakfast something people get every day, because I could really go for one right now.

I couldn’t wait for Hunter.

Clambering out of bed, I shivered at the cold. I climbed into my jeans, pulled a t-shirt over my head and quickly combed my hair with my fingers, hoping I looked presentable enough.

The smell of bacon and eggs hit me as I opened the bedroom door, and I silently praised the breakfast gods for blessing me with such generous hosts. Mr and Mrs Mills were Hunter’s uncle and aunt, and they offered to let us stay in their Notting Hill home for a few weeks. Our trip was an end-of-year-escape-from-the-media gift from my parents after my first season at the Westberg Warriors. Since I’d been playing for them, the press interest in me had gotten a little out of hand, and even though I found it pretty easy to cope with, I was looking forward to walking down the street without having cameras shoved in my face. Technically, Hunter should have been in school until the end of December, but his straight A’s and perfect attendance record meant that his teachers were cool with him ducking out of classes early. I was pretty relieved. Where would the fun be in visiting England without my boy?

I shuffled into the kitchen, where Hunter was already shovelling toast down his throat while Mrs Mills fried bacon, eggs and mushrooms.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling. “Did you sleep well? Are you hungry? You do like bacon and eggs, don’t you?”

Unsure which question to answer first, I nodded. The answer to all of the questions was the same anyway.

“Take a seat, Jesse. Help yourself to some toast.”

Hunter had barely glanced up from his food until I sat beside him. He gave me a goofy grin, and said, “I forgot to tell you, Aunt Janet is an awesome cook.”

“Don’t expect this every morning,” she told us. “But as it’s your first day and I know you’ll be a bit jetlagged, I thought you’d like something to help you through your first twenty-four hours here.”

“This is really great, Mrs Mills. Thanks.”

“Please, call me Janet. I can’t be doing with all this formality.”

She bustled over to us, placing plates piled high with bacon, sausages, mushrooms, eggs, fried bread and hash browns in front of us. I’m pretty sure some drool escaped my lips at the sight.

“Okay, Janet. This looks awesome.”

She ruffled my blond hair. “Enjoy. I need to get ready, the girls will be home in a few hours and this place is a mess.”

I almost choked on my breakfast. Mess? There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Janet left the kitchen to … I don’t know … put some more crap in her hair to make it rock solid so it wouldn’t fall out of place, and Hunter and I tucked into our breakfasts.

“Aunt Janet’s pretty cool, huh?” Hunter asked. “Can’t say she doesn’t take care of her guests!”

“You think we can take her home with us? If my mom cooked like this, I’d never have moved out.”

Hunter raised his eyebrows. “Never knew you were into older women.”

I reached over and lightly punched his arm. “I’m not, but your cousins might be in trouble if they cook anything like your aunt!”

Back when I lived in Phoenix, I’d met Hunter’s twin cousins about five summers ago. We were thirteen, and Georgia and Isabelle were twelve. All I remembered about them was they were blonde, and they giggled a lot. I had to admit, I was pretty stoked about seeing them again. What normal eighteen-year-old wouldn’t be a little excited about meeting hot, blonde twins? They’d been away at some college thing when we arrived, but judging by the portrait of them that hung in the hallway, they’d grown into real hotties. My respect for my best buddy and his family meant I’d never dare to make a move on them, but I still enjoyed razzing him.

“Oh,” Hunter laughed, “you’re a real stud now, aren’t ya?”

“Don’t mock me! I’ve had many, many offers this year. No longer are you looking at the guy who couldn’t speak around pretty girls.”

I had one. Shame she was nuts.

A vision of Taylor swam into my head. God, she was perfect.

“Hey,” Hunter said, clicking his fingers an inch from my face. “Quit it. I wasn’t around to see what that bitch put you through, but I know she messed you up. Stop thinking about her.”

Weird how, even though we’d been separated for the best part of a year, he could still tell when I was about to wallow in self-pity. I guess a lifetime of telepathy is what you get when you’ve been friends with someone since birth.

“I’m over it,” I said. “Really. But it is good to know there’s no chance of running into her for the next four weeks.”

Westberg wasn’t big enough for both of us. She still hung out in the café across from the training ground, looking miserable. I hated how she always played the victim, like she wasn’t the one who screwed me over. It was all an act, like everything else she ever said or did.

“Jesse!”

I shook my head like an Etch-A-Sketch, erasing the picture of Taylor in my mind. “Sorry. I’m done now. Let’s talk about something else. Like your hot cousins!”

“If it gets your mind off the psycho chick, we can talk about whatever you want.”

Uncool as it was to admit, I’d really missed having Hunter close by. I thought for sure he’d forget about me once he found new people to party with. Instead, he’d buckled down with his schoolwork, and picked up extra shifts at the pizza place to save up for a flight to L.A.

I guess you should never underestimate the strength of a bromance.

I could barely move after breakfast. Eating that way was something I hadn’t done in a long time. I needed to stay in shape for the team. Since the season was over, I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a few treats.

Maybe not another fried breakfast for a while, though.

I showered and changed into something a little more presentable, then Hunter and I watched some British television in front of Janet and Andrew’s forty-two inch plasma screen. It was still too wet to venture outside, and we used jetlag as an excuse for bumming around while we waited for them to get back with the twins.

“Good to know TV shows are as crazy here as they are at home,” Hunter said, his finger hovering over the remote, ready to change the channel.

“No wait,” I said, “I wanna see how this plays out.”

On screen, some British talk show host on a Jerry Springer-like show yelled at a man about his drinking habits. He was a little over the top, but he sure made a change from the “let’s try to understand the insane person instead of judging him” types we were used to.

“Really? When did you turn into a middle-aged housewife?”