seventeen | stuck on the aftertaste

FOR SOME REASON HE FOUND IT DIFFICULT TO FOCUS ON THE GAME WHEN HE KNEW SHE WAS IN THE STANDS WATCHING. She was for sure not cheering along or wearing any of the team colours but he knew she was there. It was getting into dangerous territory how much space she was starting to occupy in his mind. Even on late nights alone in his room, he couldn't finish to anything but thoughts of the night they had shared—it was pathetic, really. He imagined the ghost of her was there, keeping him company. His teammates would take the piss out of him if they heard his inner thoughts, call him lame for whining like some teenager on Tumblr about a girl that wanted nothing to do with him.

He'd never considered himself as someone overly sentimental or romantic but the passion of the night they shared was hard to shake. Patty had never fit so perfectly against someone, like a puzzle piece finally falling into place. He'd spent the night with so many random girls in his days, none ever had this kind of impact. All the others had blurred together by now.

The bright stadium lights were blinding when he tried to look up at the box she'd most likely be in. He wondered, as he waited for the ball to be turned over, if she was even paying attention to what he was doing on the field. Or was she flirting with that guy she worked with who seemed to follow her around like a bad smell. Ugh.

None of that should matter right now, anyways. He had a job to get done and he'd be dammed if he let them lose two in a row. Sweat beaded down the back of his neck as he stood, ready to be passed the ball.

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(@dionnestanley via instagram stories!)

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THE GAME HAD BEEN WON, BY A LANDSLIDE, MIGHT HE ADD. As usual, the winners sheds were bursting at the seams with all sorts of people. Friends, family, significant others, staff and media alike filed in along with the players once the full time horn sounded. He hadn't had anyone in the crowd waiting on him this time—his parents away on a trip and sisters busy with exam season. He didn't mind, if not for the lack of distraction from her.

As he sipped his XXXX Beer, he watched her navigate the crowd. Weaving in and out over his teammates, laughing with them. Not once even looking his way.

Perhaps it was the fact he'd finished three beers during the team song and another three after but he was filled with a sense of boldness that was missing last time he saw her here. Like his limbs were being controlled by some ventriloquist above, he found himself walking towards her. He didn't even take notice of the people that tried to stop him on his way, congratulating him on the win.

His hand found her wrist, just before she went to tap Corey Oates on the shoulder. Her partner, the girl with the camera, hadn't shown up yet and she just seemed to be mingling normally. It wasn't fair that everyone else got access to her but him. Not in a possessive way but in a jealous he just wanted a slither of her attention way.

"What the—?" She turned to yell at whoever had grabbed her, jaw going slack when she saw it was him. He pretended he didn't get a sense of satisfaction at the way her eyes went to his bare chest before his face. "Oh."

"We need to talk," he insisted, tugging gently on her arm.

Surprisingly, she didn't put up a fight or cause a scene. She just simply followed him into the empty hallway, away from the rowdy crowds. "What do you want, Patrick?" She demanded, leaning against the wall farthest from him as she crossed her arms.

"Why're you being like this?" He asked, hating that there was a sense of begging in his tone. Patty Carrigan had never had to beg for a woman's attention, even when he was a dorky year seven. Even then he'd had girls flocking to him, not to sound egotistical.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not being like anything," she spat.

He almost wanted to tell her he liked her outfit, the way she wore her hair that night was pretty also. However, she didn't put it past her to slap him for being inappropriate. He could only imagine the headline she'd make about that.

"You've got it out for me, I. . . I don't get it," he protested, pushing off the wall and taking a step towards her.

She took in a sharp breath as he got closer. "You think too highly of yourself," she retorted. "You don't take up enough space in my mind for me to have it out for you, Patrick Carrigan."

He took another step towards her, breathing deeply as her scent filled the air. She smelt like lavender, so distinctly. There was hardly any space between them now. "Then why, Dionne Stanley, did you sleep with me?" It'd been the question that had plagued him for the last few weeks. She'd talked all this shit about despising him as a person and a player only to give him access to every part of her body that fateful night. She didn't seem like the sort to let just anyone touch her like the way he had.

She choked on her own saliva, not expecting him to ever address the ginormous elephant in the room. "I was drunk," she said slowly, poking him in the chest and he flinched, jumping back, "like you are right now."

"I'm not," he told her, crossing his arms as he continued to look down at her small frame. "I just want to know why you hate me so much."

Dionne closed her eyes as if this conversation was causing her a great deal of pain. Inhaling sharply, she finally looked back up at him. "Look, Vegas was a mistake—that wasn't something I do, I told you. I don't know what you want from me. I'm sorry for hurting you're ego or whatever but—"

"So, what if it was a mistake?" He replied, his voice low and jarringly earnest. It threw her. "Not all mistakes are bad."

"You're drunk, Patty," she sighed. It was the first time she'd ever used his preferred nickname.

"Maybe a little," he mumbled, taking a step closer again. "Doesn't mean I don't know what I'm saying."

She could feel his hot breathe against his skin. "What are you saying, Patrick?" Back to his full name again.

Before he had the chance to say what he wanted to, the doors burst open and her two co-workers burst through. The pair had jumped far apart before anything could be assumed. Wiping her face, Dionne turned to face them. "I. . . Are we ready to start rolling in there. . . ?" She asked, trying her best not to look like a deer caught in headlights.

Timothee looked between her and the shirtless player before saying, "yeah, we're set up in the locker room part because it's less loud. I've been texting you for the last five minutes."

She apologised repeatedly, ducking her head down as she walked towards them. Patty continued sipping his beer as she disappeared inside. Before closing the door, her nose, a smarmy looking man in a suit looked him up and down. "Do we have the pleasure of getting you for an interview tonight?" He asked, tone laced with sarcasm. It seemed this entire company had it out for Patty or something.

The brunette scoffed. "Don't worry, mate. She's all yours."

"Don't you know it," Timothee mumbled, closing the door behind him leaving Patty in the hall by himself.

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🌸 karla yaps !

it's so fun when they actually interact in real life lol. can i get tomatoes in the chat for timothee interrupting their moment ugh.

i've been listening to a lot of old shawn mendes today, i don't know if that reflects in my writing or not. we're getting into the more fun chapters ! i'm so excited for y'all to see what's coming up. i08ren how're you feeling nowww

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