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Page 163 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)

If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to get through today’s match, and Ihadto be there for Asher. It was Blackcastle versus Holchester. I couldn’t miss it. However, the thought of sitting in Markovic Stadium for two plus hours without help made my body revolt, so I took a pain pill and prayed it would be enough.

I was already pushing myself too hard with the extra practices on top of cast rehearsals. I knew that. But the staff showcase wasn’tjusta staff showcase. It was my redemption tomyself, and the pressure to nail the performance was worse than when I’d danced at the Royal Opera with the actual royal family in attendance.

I just needed to hold out for another two and a half months. After that, I could rest.

“Scarlett, do you want another drink?” Brooklyn’s voice brought me out of my thoughts. “We have time for another round or two before I have to be at the stadium. Gotta support Dad and all that.”

I spun around, my heart ricocheting in my chest. “What?”

“Another drink,” she repeated as she entered the kitchen. “I can do a virgin mojito or a virgin daiquiri. Up to you.”

“Mojito. Please.” I forced a smile.

I’d kept my escalating fatigue and discomfort a secret from my friends and Asher. I didn’t want them to worry when they were already under so much stress—Asher with the new season, Brooklyn with her internship, and Carina with her endless second job search.

If only keeping secrets wasn’t as exhausting as practice.

“I still can’t believe you’re Frank Armstrong’s daughter and that youhidit from us.” Carina came in behind Brooklyn with an empty glass and a plate of crisps. “But you got us VIP seats for the match, so you’re forgiven. All hail nepotism.”

Brooklyn laughed.

We were pre-gaming at my flat before the match this afternoon. It was too early to drink (though some would argue it wasnevertoo early to drink), so we’d whipped up mocktails and noshed on several meals’ worth of snacks.

“Sorry again for not telling you guys earlier,” Brooklyn said, a tinge of guilt coloring her voice. “But people get kind of weird when they find out who my father is. They think they can use me to get access to the players or something even though I’ve never met half of them before my internship.” Brooklyn wrinkled hernose. “I guess I should’ve known that wouldn’t be a problem with you guys, given your ties to Asher and Vincent.”

“Don’t feel bad. I understand.” I tried to ignore the prickles of pain in my leg. “I’m the same way about Vincent.”

I was taken aback when I first learned about Brooklyn’s family tie to Blackcastle, but I wasn’t mad at her for not divulging the information. We hadn’t known each other for that long, and I hadn’t asked about her background. When I did bring it up, she easily confirmed the truth, so I didn’t bear her any ill will.

The prickles intensified.

I sat down at the kitchen table, trying to pay attention to my friends’ conversation while simultaneously trying not to throw up. I felt a little lightheaded, though that might be from the drinks.

Brooklynsaidthey were mocktails, but I wouldn’t put it past her to slip a splash of rum into the glasses.

I scrolled through my phone for a distraction and pulled up my last set of messages with Asher.

Good luck with the match today

Can’t wait to see you kick ass on the pitch <3

ASHER

Can’t wait to see you, period

ASHER

We’ll celebrate later tonight. Just the two of us ;)

A bubble of anticipation floated past my aches. Asher and I didn’t see each other in person as often as we did over the summer, but we exchanged daily texts and calls. It was almost as good as face-to-face interactions.

Almost.

Despite the exhaustion weighing on my limbs, I was excited to spend some time alone with him tonight. He always recharged me.

“Maybe I should become a Premier League intern,” Carina mused. “But I’m guessing internships don’t pay much.”

“Afraid not,” Brooklyn said apologetically. “But if you need someone to whip up a personalized nutrition plan, I’m your girl.” She handed me my alcohol-free mojito and glanced at the clock. “Shit. I didn’t realize it was so late already. I have to go. Traffic is going to be killer because of the match.”




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