Page 24 of Broken Desires
My little spitfire… She’s not yours, though, is she? She’s not mine, not really. But damn if I don’t want her to be. The more I think about it, the more I realize she wants me too. Maybe this is a chance to let go, to let something real happen, even if we know it’s only for a short while.
The rational part of me screams caution, but the rest? It’s already decided. Nessa’s under my skin, and as I sit here pretending to listen to Ethan and Cole, I’m planning my next move. Inviting her to the game? That’s just the start. I want to show her there’s more to me than the perfect facade.
Nessa’s the kind of trouble I’ve been avoiding my whole life. But right now? I’m all in. It’s time to see where this fire between us can go. We need to have an honest talk, though, because I don’t want to end up hurting her—she’s been through enough already.
The banter, the flirting with her, it’s effortless—like stepping into uncharted territory for the first time. This feeling intensifies as I dash out of the tunnel onto the pitch with the guys, turning to the crowd to see her sitting beside Poppy and Eva. Suddenly, I’m smiling, my steps lighter, just knowing she’s here watching me. Fuck, I’m really in trouble—a kind of trouble I’m unexpectedly eager to dive into.
The game rushes by, and I catch myself playing partly to impress her, another first. I’ve never sought anyone’s approval before, but I can’t deny the thrill I get from catching her eye, from seeing her cheer specifically for me after each assist and goal.
I sneak glances at the guys, hoping my newfound zeal isn’t as transparent as it feels. They’re too caught up in their performance to notice, for which I’m grateful. I’m not ready to face their questions, nor am I entirely sure of what’s unfolding inside me.
Once the whistle blows, marking the game’s end, my gaze locks onto hers, and my heart jolts at her cheeky grin. Instinctively, I take a step toward her—a mistake, I realize, but then the team engulfs me in a victory hustle, distracting me from acting on impulse.
By the time we go back to the locker room, the stadium is already half empty. I can’t suppress my grin when I reach for my shower gel and spot two texts from my spitfire. Glancing around, I find the guys engrossed in their own worlds. They see me as the “boring, perfect Liam”—if only they knew the effort it takes.
Shaking off the gloom, I focus on Nessa’s words.
Nessa: Your stamina is quite impressive. Is it the same in other settings?
Nessa: I’m free tonight if you are.
My cock stirs in my shorts, and I’m surprised. I feel like a rowdy teenager… something I never even felt when I was a teen.
“What are you doing to me, spitfire?” I murmur, unaware I’ve spoken aloud until Ethan’s voice pulls me back.
“What’s that?” Ethan, towel in hand, looks curiously at me.
Caught off guard, I glance down at Nessa’s text before deflecting. “I was wondering about your postgame plans.”
“Oh.” Ethan’s hand goes to his neck, a goofy smile spreading across his face—one that clearly spells Poppy Donovan.
“Poppy?” I probe, and his grin widens in confirmation.
“Yeah, going to spend the evening at her place. We’re watching a show.”
Cole’s bark of laughter cuts through the air, and I turn to find him already stripping down. “Watching a show? That’s what we’re calling it now?”
Ethan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be crass.”
“Bet my fucking plane you don’t make it past the first episode,” Cole shoots back, the challenge clear in his voice.
Their banter, so typical, eases some of the tension inside me, and I can’t help but join in the laughter. “Seems like a safe bet. And you, Cole? Any plans tonight?” I ask, hoping for a yes to keep him occupied and away from any potential interference with Nessa.
Cole nods, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, got plans with Eva.”
Ethan’s mocking smile appears instantly. “Does she know that?”
Flipping Ethan off, Cole heads to the showers without another word.
“She doesn’t, does she?” I sigh, half amused, half concerned.
“Nope.” Ethan’s response is as expected.
The locker room dynamics, the teasing, the camaraderie—it all fades as I turn my attention back to my phone, to Nessa’s invitation. Whatever happens between Cole and Eva, it won’t matter; my evening is now unequivocally claimed.
Me: I’m free. Want to come over? I’ll pick you up. Is 8 okay?
Her immediate lack of response sends me to the showers, my mind racing with possibilities—doubt, anticipation, desire. It’s a mess, a beautiful, terrifying mess.