The Own Goal ✔️

part 8

We've only got a couple of days left of our holiday.

The boys have hired a yacht for the day.

I swear, it's like something out of James bond. It's insanely luxurious. It comes with staff and a Micheline star chef!

I'm lounging in the sun with Jack and Ben.

"How much does this even cost?" I enquire.

They both laugh.

Ben answers "more than Jack earns a week!"

I know how much Jack earns a week, well I know what Google claims he earns a week. It's not as much as his premier league friends, but it would take me years to earn what he earns in a week.

It's disgusting and I want to ask how they can justify it when there are kids starving, families eating out of foodbanks. But I decide to just be grateful. I'm sure they must do plenty of stuff for charity.

We are called then, by a lady in a smart uniform for lunch. We get up and walk to the dining area.

We are on a fucking boat and the the dining table is bigger than even the makeshift tables my family used to cobble together at Christmas, when I was very young and Christmas was a happy time, a mixture of actual tables, pasting tables, one year I think there was even a pool table under the patch work of table cloths.

I end up sitting opposite Jack.
The food is devine.
There are several courses of seafood, including black cod, which even before I tried it Jack assured me it was amazing.

Every so often I felt his foot gently run up my leg.

When I glance at him, he is often looking at me softly.

I know in the real world we wouldn't work together at all.
But, I can't help wishing the holiday wasn't heading towards its close so quickly.

***

Later I'm standing at the railings, looking over at the crystal clear sea. I'm in my own little world, having a little Titanic moment.

I don't hear the footsteps behind me, and the first I know that he's there is when his arms snake around my waist.

I know it's him immediately. I've learnt his smell, his touch, even his taste is now ingrained into my senses.

"I'll be Leo" he mutters into my neck.

"Hmmmm, that didn't end very well for him did it?"

"Nah, an' there was definitely room on that door for the two o'them"

I turn slightly, taking in his profile.

"Ya alright?" He asks, turning just a little towards me.

"Yeah" I don't drop my gaze. I want to memorise him. I want to save this moment in my memory bank.

When I'm old and think back on my life, I want to remember this moment, this holiday, this crazy fling.

I want to, in years to come, smile inwardly to myself when I hear his name.
I want this to be a little piece of happiness and perfection that hides inside me always.

I want to tell my grandchildren about the holiday romance I had with a wonderful professional footballer, they'll never believe me. They'll probably know his name, he'll probably be a sporting legend by then.

I watch him swallow. He licks his lips.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and reaches out, pulling me into him, we are cheek to cheek.

"I thought no photos?" I query.

"Nah you can't take photos, but I'd like a little souvenir of this holiday. I'll send it ya if ya want?"