Millie groans. “He dove like he was auditioning for Swan Lake.”
The opposing player places the ball on the spot and steps back, bouncing lightly on his heels.
Down on the pitch, Archie paces slowly across his line, watching the player like a lion tracking its prey. Then, he points—dramatically—to the bottom right corner.
“Here we go,” Roxy says, settling into her seat as if she’s about to watch the showdown of the season.
And she wouldn’t be wrong. Penalties with Archie in the net are always exhilarating. Half of his game is in the head, not the hands. He watches people. Studies them. Even distracts them with dance moves sometimes. And more than anything, he knows people. He can tell when someone is bluffing, when they’re overconfident, when they’re second-guessing themselves. It’s the same look he gives me in the gym just when I think I have the upper hand. The same calm confidence he wears when he’s secretly two moves ahead.
And right now, I can see it in the way his jaw sets. Heknows.
The player runs up, then shoots.
Archie dives—exactly where he said he would.
The ball smacks into his gloves with athwackthat echoes around the stadium. He punches it clear with both fists before springing back to his feet like it was a walk in the park.
The stadium explodes. Fans are leaping to their feet, scarves waving, drums pounding.
Millie shrieks beside me. “HE TOLD HIM! HE LITERALLY TOLD HIM!”
Fallon smirks, still seated but clapping. “Oh, he’s good.”
I clap harder than anyone else, my lips twitching into a slow, proud smile. Yes, that he is.
Chapter 23
“Couples who spend Christmas together have a seventy-eight percent higher chance of staying together in the long term.”
Archie
My living room has never felt so alive. Everyone’s crammed onto sofas and floor cushions, fully equipped with snacks and drinks. The telly’s playing the post-match analysis in the background, but no one is really paying attention. We’re all too busy reliving the match ourselves.
“…and he pointed, like some kind of Bond villain,” Millie says, gesturing wildly. “You pointed to the bottom right corner and still saved it. I’m not saying you were being cocky, but—”
“But you’re absolutely saying he’s cocky,” Finn interrupts, grinning. “And I back that. I’ve never seen anyone so smug with a penalty save. And I’ve played with this lad since I was six.”
I shrug, slouched back on the sofa with Kat nestled under my arm. Her legs are tucked up beside her, socks pressed against my thigh. “It’s not smug if you’re right.”
They all laugh, and I steal a glance at Kat. Her thumb strokes absently along the seam of my jeans. Her hair is loose now, falling in soft waves past her shoulders, and when she turns to look at me, the corners of her eyes crinkle with amusement. I lean in and kiss her—soft and lingering, just because I can.
“Oi!” Finn says from the armchair, tossing a pretzel into his mouth. “Can we keep the PDA to a minimum?”
“You’re just mad because no one’s kissing you,” I say, pulling Kat into another kiss, just to be annoying. “No one else seems to care.”
Cameron shrugs and casts a side glance at Fallon, who’s perched on a pouffe, knitting a blue scarf like her life depends on it.
I reach for my drink and take a slow sip. “Hey, do you remember that little seafood place at Middleton-on-Sea?” I ask. “The onewith the string lights and the outdoor patio?”
“Oh, yeah,” Roxy says. “You and Wade dragged us there a couple years ago during preseason, right?”
“That’s the one,” I say, my lips pulling into a nostalgic smile. “The place is magic in the summer. I’ll have to take you there next year,” I add, glancing at Kat. “You’d love it.”
Her brow wrinkles for a moment, then she smiles before focusing back on the group.
Cameron, who never misses a beat, leans forward with sudden enthusiasm. “We should all go! Rent a house for the weekend, make a vacation out of it. We could do a beach day, fish and chips, a bonfire—”
“Get completely fried under the sun and regret it by Sunday night,” Finn mutters.