Page 9 of We'll Meet Again

Throughout the whole interaction, Billie was glowering at her phone, typing what must have been a novel to someone considering how long her thumbs were flitting back and forth across the screen. Remarkably, she did not need prompting to follow him to the elevator - or lift, as they called it here, Ethan reminded himself - but she still was not looking at him as they rode up. When she finished her message, she locked her phone and stuffed it into her pocket.

“Urgent message?” he asked, unable to help himself.

“Just a quick note to my flatmate,” she said shortly. “It doesn’t concern you.”

He closed his mouth, forgetting his question about her roommate. He was only on the third floor, so the elevator opened shortly after. Billie strode out first. Again, her scent hit him and triggered that familiarity he knew was completely unfounded. His brain conjured up images of her wrapped up in his arms, but they were vague. Like trying to remember a dream.

He followed her down the hall to his door. When he opened it, he was pleased to find everything his realtor had described - a flood of natural light from the large window facing the street, hardwood floors that gleamed with fresh polish, and brand new furniture in the small sitting room. The kitchen, just off of the sitting room, was the only indication of the flat’s true age, since all the appliances were leftover from the nineties. And Ethan was certain that was the latest upgrade. It would more than do for him though.

Billie wrinkled her nose. “This is it?”

Ethan shrugged. “Beats the double wide I grew up in.”

“What’s a…double wide?” she wondered, brow furrowing.

“Y’all ain’t got trailer parks over here?” he teased.

“What, like - caravans?” she asked. “For camping?”

“Sometimes they are,” he explained, holding back a chuckle. “Mine wasn’t really mobile though, it was on bricks.”

Her brows retreated back up her forehead. “Oh.”

Silence fell between them again as Ethan retrieved his phone charger and plugged it into the nearest outlet on the kitchen counter.

“Wish I could offer you something to eat or drink,” he said. “My grandmother’d have my hide for neglecting my manners.”

With the surprise worn off, Billie shifted back to being terse. “I need to go anyway.” She tapped the toe of her boot on the floor. “Lots to do this time of year.”

“I’ll get settled in alright on my own,” he said. “Thanks for walking me here.”

She gave a dismissive “hmph” in return. “Well, good luck this season.”

“Thank you, Billie,” he replied.

She swallowed and held his gaze for a long moment. His eyes searched hers for what she wanted to say, and she did seem to have something on the tip of her tongue from the way she shifted her weight between her feet. Then she cut her gaze from his, turned on her heel, and swept out of the room. The door closed, but that scent lingered. He inhaled deeply, and more fleeting images came to him, but nothing he could make sense of. His phone chimed as it turned back on, so he shook his head and picked it up, preparing to call Betty and let her know he had arrived.

Billie shook off the odd tingling on her skin from looking at Ethan. That last moment had her shaken, and regretting several of the disparaging things she’d written about him in her text to Tessa. What sort of guy - and a footballer, at that - just casually mentioned growing up in poverty? A trailer park, seriously? And mentioning his grandmother like that - who did he think he was? Her indignation returned. Clearly, he wanted her to drop her guard, but she was not going to let that happen.

Her phone dinged with a reply from Tessa. Billie had issued a full-on rant about this guy putting on airs of humility and kindness, and all Tessa asked was,Is he at least a looker?Billie rolled her eyes and returned her phone to her pocket.

She had to admit, Ethan was attractive. Even just off a plane, his hair was perfectly disheveled. And the sweats did nothing to hide his impeccable form. She had noticed it even back in the office, but in closer proximity, she had a much better view. He was tall, too.

She shook her head.No way, she thought. It didn’t matter that he was good looking. He was just another footballer, and one who had been the catalyst for that complete humiliation in front of her colleagues by Tony. And for that, she could not forgive him. Even if she was still thinking about the softness of his smile hours later at her desk.

That evening, she relayed the whole sordid story to Tessa over a dinner of pizza and Cabernet. Naturally, they were also in their pajamas.

“Honestly,” Billie said after swallowing a savory bit of cheese and pepperoni. “It was like walking around with a cartoon character. The accent, the weird politeness - like this schtick he wouldn’t drop.”

“Maybe it’s not a schtick then,” Tessa said. “Sounds to me like your real problem is with Tony.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve got my issues with Tony,” Billie said. “But Ethan Knight is just as much of a prick as the rest of them, mark my words.”

“You don’t even know him,” Tessa reminded her. “You dated one footballer, and made your mind up about the lot of them.”

Billie took a sip of wine to avoid addressing that right away. True, she had briefly dated one of Stanmore’s other forwards, Peter O’Riley, and he cheated on her. Eight times. In the three weeks they were together. His excuse had been, “that’s just how footballers are, we’re famous, women love us,” and she took him at his word. She had not dated a footballer since. Guys like Greg, an accountant, were much safer.

“They may be ridiculously fit,” she said. “But they are not boyfriend material.”