Michelle Betham - Striker

‘Ooh, fighting talk,’ Ryan laughed, squeezing her waist, making her giggle like some star-struck teenager. ‘Maybe you need to spend more time watching me train, huh? See exactly just what it is I do all day.’

She turned round, slipping her arms around his neck as he pulled her against him. ‘I know what you do all day, Ryan. I was brought up around footballers, remember? Although my dad swears blind you all get away with murder these days. He says in his day you wouldn’t have had it so easy.’

‘Oh, I see where you get that fighting talk from now, kiddo. Inherited from daddy, huh?’

She just smiled, kissing him slowly, loving the feel of his half-naked body against her clothed one. She would be the envy of so many women if they knew just how close she’d become to this famous footballer, but for now their relationship was pretty much a secret. Not deliberately so, but they weren’t going out of their way to advertise the fact, either.

‘Don’t work too hard, okay?’ she winked, reluctantly pulling away from him and grabbing her bag from the chair by the door.

‘Am I gonna see you later?’ he asked, a question he wasn’t really used to asking. Usually he called the shots in whatever relationships he was involved in, but this was so different to anything he’d ever been involved in before. And he suddenly felt a little vulnerable. Another unusual feeling in Ryan Fisher’s world.

‘Yeah. If you want to,’ Amber replied, stopping briefly by the door.

‘I want to,’ he smirked, pulling the towel he was wearing from around his waist, giving Amber one last look at something else Ryan Fisher was famous for.

‘Then later it is,’ she winked, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Ryan couldn’t help laughing, running a hand over the back of his neck as he looked down at the floor. She was good for him, Ms. Amber Sullivan. There was no doubt about that. Over the past few weeks he’d managed to break down some of those barriers she’d built up around herself and got to know the woman behind that ice-queen façade. Because that’s all it was. A façade. She was hiding from something, protecting herself from something and he didn’t know what, he wasn’t even sure he cared. He just knew that she was somebody he wanted to spend time with.

Pulling on his jeans and a t-shirt, he bent down to pick up his kitbag, accidentally knocking a jacket off the back of the chair in the process. He turned round quickly as something fell out of the pocket, clattering to the floor, rolling underneath the sideboard. He crouched down, stretching his arm out to pick up the object that had rolled under there, sliding it out across the dark-wood floor. Standing up, he leaned back against the sideboard, turning the rogue casino chip over and over in his fingers. It must’ve slipped into his pocket somehow the other night. Opening a drawer and quickly throwing it inside, he slammed the drawer shut and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a second. He hadn’t wanted to go, he really hadn’t. And he shouldn’t have gone. Max would go spare if he found out, but he was still the new guy at the club and he didn’t want to isolate himself by turning down nights out with the other lads. He wanted to fit in, and as much as Ryan didn’t want to think about it, he knew, deep down inside, that it was his desperate need to fit in that had caused all the shit in the past. But as far as Ryan was concerned, it wasn’t a step backwards. He’d been in control, he hadn’t done anything stupid. It wasn’t going to be like it had been before, so there was no need to panic, no need for anyone’s concern. This time he was completely in control. This time it would be different.

‘How’s it all going, then?’ Ronnie asked, folding his arms as he perched on the edge of Amber’s desk.

She looked at him briefly before continuing to tap away on her keyboard. ‘How’s what all going?’

‘You and Ryan Fisher.’

She swung her chair round to face him, crossing her legs and clasping her hands together in her lap. ‘Keep it down, will you? It isn’t public knowledge yet.’

‘Oh, I see. It’s a secret relationship then, is it?’

‘It’s not like that, Ronnie. We just don’t see the point in broadcasting it, that’s all.’

Ronnie sniffed. ‘That’s unusual, for Ryan. Usually he’s first in the queue to be papped when he’s got a new piece of arm candy to show off.’

Amber couldn’t help laughing. ‘Arm candy? Hardly, Ronnie.’

‘You’re not the usual type Ryan Fisher goes for, I have to say.’

Amber looked at her best friend. ‘Do you want to carry on? Give yourself a few more minutes and you might just get a touch more insulting.’

‘You know what I mean, Amber.’

‘I’m not sure I do, actually. Look, I really think he’s changed, Ronnie.’

‘Jesus, come on, Amber. What do you think you are? Some kind of miracle cure? You’re better than that. The likes of Ryan Fisher don’t change, it isn’t in him.’

‘Well, maybe people like you should try and give him a chance. Stop being so judgemental.’

Ronnie narrowed his eyes, looking at her as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. ‘Okay. You’re scaring me now. What’s caused this sudden turn-around in your opinion of one of football’s most arrogant pricks? A couple of dinner-dates and suddenly you think he’s a saint?’

‘Maybe I’ve just learnt not to judge a book by its cover.’

‘Yeah, but it’s not just the cover, though, is it, Amber? It’s backed up by everything that’s inside, too.’

Amber swung back around on her chair and started shutting down her laptop. She was tired and she needed to get home quickly tonight, shower, change, and then get herself over to the Tynebridge Stadium where she was covering a charity dinner for News North East that Newcastle Red Star were throwing. And it may be a night of working that lay ahead, but she still had to look good.

‘Look, Ronnie, it’s just a bit of fun, alright? And, if you remember, it was you who told me I should be having more of that.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t remember telling you to have it with Ryan Fisher.’

Amber smiled at Ronnie as she closed the lid of her laptop and stood up, slipping her coat on and grabbing her bag up off the floor. ‘You jealous?’

‘As if,’ Ronnie smirked, following her as she walked towards the lift that took them down to the underground car park. ‘You’re in a bit of a hurry, aren’t you?’

‘That’s because I’m in a rush. I’ve got to get home, shower, find something glamorous to wear and get my arse down to Tynebridge for seven-thirty. Kevin’s got me covering this charity dinner the club are throwing tonight.’

‘Oh, right. I’m off there, too. Quite a few ex-Red Star players are going to be there, so I gather. Your dad’s going, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah, he is,’ Amber replied, stepping into the lift, closely followed by Ronnie. ‘I wondered why you were back up north again.’

‘Well, somebody’s got to keep an eye on you, obviously,’ Ronnie winked, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned back against the wall. ‘So what’s your dad think about you getting involved with Ryan Fisher?’

‘He doesn’t know, yet,’ Amber said, standing by the lift doors as they opened slowly, stepping out into the underground car park, her heels click-clacking across the concrete floor as she walked quickly towards her car.

‘Christ, what have you and Fisher been doing all this time? Non-stop sex and no dates anywhere public?’

‘Pretty much, yeah,’ Amber smirked, flinging her bag into the passenger seat of her little Fiat 500.

‘Are you kidding me? Jesus, I go away for a couple of weeks and you turn into some sex-crazed cougar.’