Free Scored by Lily Harlem

stretches now?”
    “Yeah, that would be great. I’ve just had that post-match swim you suggested.”
    “I thought that’s where you were. Come on, let’s go in my room and get it done while the tendons are still loose and before it gets any later than it already is.”
    He re-opened his door and ushered Lewis in.
    Lewis didn’t give me a backward glance.
    I hunted for my keycard and let myself into my own room. My mind was spinning, my lips tingling. Lewis and his theory testing had thrown me into such a state of confusion I hardly knew which way was up and which way was down.
    I dumped my purse, flicked on the shower and stripped naked. I needed to think.
    Because one thing was for sure, although I’d admired Lewis Tate as a footballer for many years, Lewis Tate the man, the guy who didn’t believe he was great even though he was, had crawled under my skin and was owning not just every waking thought but all of my dreams too.

Chapter Five
     
    Even though my mind was spinning, just after ten I sent a report of the game to Reg. By ten-thirty he’d emailed me back to say he was thrilled with the article but what was going on at the Donbass? Surely I must have some gossip for him.
    I replied I hadn’t. The players were in a different section of the hotel, being bussed to and from the training ground and stadium, and there was no sign of them in public areas. I hoped Reg wouldn’t find out this wasn’t strictly true, but hell, he wasn’t here so hopefully he wouldn’t learn any different?
    His response was predictable—get yourself out of your room and down to the hotel bar. There’s no matches for three days so if any of the players are going to live it up a little, break the rules, it will be over the next few nights and I want to know all about it.
    Sighing, I responded that I would.
    But I wouldn’t. Not tonight anyway. I was completely whacked, not to mention still dizzy with emotions after that kiss. I needed to digest what it meant. Re-live what was one of the most intense, seductive, wonderful moments of my life over and over and over.
     
    The next day I slept until midday and felt groggy and sluggish when I woke. The evening’s excitement had clearly taken its toll on me physically as well as emotionally, and dreams full of Lewis had barely given me a break from my turmoil.
    But by the time I’d showered, snacked on fresh fruit and downed two coffees I had energy that needed using. I could have headed out with Phil and the others who were going on a sightseeing tour, no doubt of the local watering holes, but I wanted to be alone. Remember that moment in the elevator and figure out, in the light of day, what the hell was going on between me and Lewis Tate.
    The concierge gave me a map and I set off on a walk through a nearby park. The sun dappled through the trees and warmed my shoulders. The paths were winding and quiet. Perfect for my needs.
    After a few hours of strolling, I spotted a small café with bandstand windows, and treated myself to a pot of tea and a soft dough cake filled with honey.
    I finally returned to my room a little after eight in the evening, no wiser and no more enlightened about the kiss. Marching around philosophizing hadn’t brought me any nearer to understanding Lewis’ words and actions, or why I was being crazy enough to think there was anything more to it than post-match euphoria.
    Sitting on my bed, however, the instruction Reg had given me nagged my conscience—get yourself out of your room and down to the hotel bar.
    But could I? Should I?
    Apart from the trip to the park, every other time I’d ventured out of my room ridiculous situations had occurred. In fact, hadn’t I told myself I was safest staying in for the entire two weeks?
    I stared around the silent space. Although it was decadent and beautiful, it wasn’t home and the evening stretched before me like a long, empty road. Despite walking all day my lie-in meant I wasn’t tired enough to settle down