I finished signing Michelle’s shirt and handed the pen back to Maisie. “Have fun ladies.”

One thing I’d never lacked on the pitch was motivation. Ever since my return to the game after the 2007 final, I’d needed to prove myself to everyone: my teammates, the fans, and myself. Now I had an added incentive.

Two people who meant the world to me would be sitting in the crowd. No matter what happened, today I would be giving it everything I had.

Watching Oliver play rugby was even more terrifying than watching Maisie play. None of the girls Maisie played against came close to the size of the forwards charging down Oliver at every opportunity.

The pace of the game stayed fast and intense throughout the entire eighty minutes, so Oliver never held on to the ball for longer than two seconds at a time. He would receive a pass and then either pass it sideways to a teammate or kick it down the field. Either way, he got charged down by someone who weighed well over two hundred pounds.

Tackles were a constant occurrence, but to me at least, the ones involving Oliver tended to have a little more crunch. Every time he hit the floor, there were a few nerve-wracking seconds where I didn’t think he would get up again. He always did, but that didn’t stop me being just as scared the next time he went down.

This sport was utterly brutal. I knew that on paper it was safer than football. Maisie had explained to me hundreds of times that the helmets they wore in football actually made the game more dangerous because it encouraged head-to-head collisions which were strictly prohibited in rugby. That made some kind of sense, but I still wished Oliver were down there in some sort of padding instead of being completely exposed.

Mind you, having Oliver’s legs on show offered some advantages. My god, those legs had an unnatural and unhealthy impact on me. Just looking at his thighs made my own legs weak, not to mention what happened between them if I lost myself to a daydream. Oliver’s team valued his legs for how they kicked the ball, but they had a completely different kind of value to me.

The dirtier his legs got as the game wore on, the more I wished I were in the changing room after the game to help clean them up. I crossed my own legs in my seat to try and control my lust, but it did little good. My short skirt left me feeling exposed, and that just fueled the desire inside.

I should have worn pants, but it was a hot day, and a short skirt would help keep me cool without needing to take my top off. That was the plan anyway, but then Oliver had insisted I wear a rugby jersey so now I was sweltering under two layers.

I’d deflected Oliver’s suggestion that I take my top off by pretending that he was trying to undress me, but he’d noticed how odd my comment was. At some point he’d also notice that I always wore something to cover my arm, but I planned to keep making excuses as long as possible.

I didn’t want him to see the burn on my arm. He didn’t know about that. No one knew about it other than Maisie, Mom, and a few close friends, and I intended on keeping it that way.

With a few minutes to go, Oliver attempted a long drop goal but it missed just past the post. It didn’t make any difference to the game, and he’d already put twelve points on the board, but I heard a fan nearby mutter “typical” under his breath.

I glanced over at Maisie who had heard it too. She looked pissed. Not much made Maisie angry, but she didn’t like hearing Oliver insulted. He’d shrugged off the insult from the boys earlier, but that had to have hurt. Maisie had helped by asking for his autograph, but to have that one mistake from eight years ago still following him around was unfair.

People still blamed him for one mistake he’d made at the age of eighteen when the expectations of an entire country were on his shoulders. I was doing the same thing. I was just as bad as those boys earlier and the one sat in front of me now.

Oliver had changed since he acted like a jerk to me, just like he’d changed on the pitch since he missed that crucial drop goal. I couldn’t keep him at arm’s length just on the off chance he might be nasty to me again.

It dawned on me; I was scared. Scared he would treat me badly again. Scared he wouldn’t want me when he saw me naked. Scared I would still want him after the summer was over and we went home.

I glanced over at Maisie again and saw a girl who was never scared. She wasn’t scared when she was on the field. She wasn’t scared to meet people even though she was regularly bullied because of the burn marks on her face. If my younger sister could handle what was thrown at her then I sure as hell could too.

“Will you be okay on your own tonight?” I asked Maisie.

“Sure, why?”

“I was thinking of grabbing drinks with Oliver tonight. We should probably catch up. If he wants to that is.”

Maisie smiled. “I’m sure he’ll want to.”

“You can come too,” I offered, although it was probably obvious I didn’t want her to. “We’ll do dinner instead of drinks if you like.”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll hang out with him another evening. It’s about time you let your hair down.”

“What will you do?”

“Well… I suppose if Olly is out with you, then Shaun will be bored. Maybe I’ll hang out with him.”

“I suppose I walked into that one,” I admitted. “We’ll have to see what Oliver says. And Shaun may not want to; he seems like quite a shy kid.”

“I’m sure I can bring him out of his shell.”

“I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear that and carry on watching the game.”

“Good idea.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing at Maisie’s confidence and sheer joy for life. I could do with taking a leaf out of her book. Maybe tonight I would let my hair down and have fun for once? I was due a good night out and I had a feeling Oliver was more than capable of showing me a good time.

So much for being brave. I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Oliver if he wanted to go for a drink. Fortunately, Maisie did it for me by saying she wanted to hang out with Shaun and that Oliver and I should do our own thing. Neither of us took much encouragement.

“We could do dinner if you like?” Oliver asked. “You wouldn’t believe how hungry I am after that game.”

“Let’s just go to a dive bar and grab some wings or something,” I suggested. “I’m not dressed for anywhere fancy.”

“You’re in England now, remember. I doubt we’ll find a bar that specializes in wings and American beer. And if we do, I’m not going anywhere near it. I know there are jokes about rugby players drinking piss for dares, but we don’t go as far as drinking American beer. We’re not animals.”

“Alright ‘smartarse,’” I said, emphasizing the ‘arse’ in my best English accent. “You choose where we eat.”

I genuinely didn’t care where we ended up; I just wanted to spend the evening looking at Oliver. He had that glow of someone who had worked up a sweat and then showered, but was still hot and a little sweaty. He’d crammed himself into a suit to do a quick post-match interview, but had removed the tie and had a button undone to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his chest.

“So shall I go to your house and hang out with Shaun?” Maisie asked. She tried to sound more casual about it in front of Oliver, but she still came across as obvious. That girl did not know how to do subtle.

“Yes,” Oliver said, “but it won’t be just the two of you.”

“Thank God,” I muttered.

“I told Shaun to invite some friends of his round. He may be shy, but he does have a few close friends.”