Waking up with Aimee was as easy as breathing, there wasn’t any of that ‘oh crap there’s a stranger in my bed’ or ‘I really regret this’ or any of those morning feelings you get once you’ve slept with more women than you can count. She nestled into my embrace and I rested my chin on her head and breathed in deeply, this was nice and I was pretty sure I could have stayed there forever.
“We should get up,” Aimee muttered coming to her senses, I rolled over and stretched. She kissed my cheek and rang room service ordering a breakfast for the bedroom; I took a shower in the meantime and came back to a spread of a full English breakfast.
“Wow,” I smiled and came to sit next to Aimee, “I could do this everyday,”
“We’d get fat, the English might not like processed food but they sure know how to breakfast,” she handed me some toast and a glass of juice. I wolfed down the food and watched as Aimee daintily ate, I noticed a tattoo on her thigh and reached out the touch it.
“You still have your tattoo,” I noted,
“I got some stars by my ear too,” she pulled her hair back and showed me. “That was after I got my haircut short, it compensated slightly because I was so upset all my hair had gone,”
“It suits you,” I said pulling it slightly, she blushed and looked away. “Don’t get all shy on me Aimee,” I warned,
“It’s weird,” she muttered,
“Only days ago I hated your guts and now here we are,” she gestured with her hands,
“Here we are…”I muttered after her,
“Compliments coming out of your mouth are like compliments coming from a stranger,”
“I can start on insults if you like…” I offered,
“It was be more normal,” she smiled,
“You’re so…” I was lost for words, “so…” she began to smile, “smelly,”
“Oh,” she clutched her heart, “your words, they cut me so deep!” I watched as she got up slowly and went to get dressed, “A skirt or a dress?” she asked holding out the options.
“You’re the fashion journalist, not me. I’m stuck in tracksuit bottoms and suits,”
“Interesting combination,” she smiled,
“Tracksuits for training and suits for press conferences and travelling between games,”
“I’m not a football retard,”
“I didn’t say you were. Did you learn all your knowledge from youtube clips?”
“Shut up,” she grinned and pulled on the dress, I cleared away the breakfast stuff and went to the door. “Don’t go,”
“I’m just going to get changed,” I told her, “I’ll be right back.”
When I returned I walked straight into the suite and stopped as I saw Flo on the chair,
“Hey guys, I thought I’d find you in here,” I acted quickly and a little too casually,
“Do you just walk into everyone’s suites?” Flo asked,
“I did knock, didn’t you hear?” I lied; she shook her head and returned to her coffee. I stayed by the door wary of how my actions could give Aimee and me away.
“How was your night? I didn’t see you…” Flo asked,
“Dull, I stayed and watched a game on the TV,”
“Which game?” Flo asked,
“Who were playing? Isn’t it preseason?”
“Yeah,” I was beginning to sweat with the interrogation,
“Manchester United and Crystal Palace,”
“They’re not in the same league,” Flo protested,
“It was a friendly and how do you know so much about soccer?” Aimee was quietly giggling in the corner of the room.
“You’re busted Harry, I know where you were,” Flo burst, she looked across at Aimee and grinned, “You’re right, that was fun!”
“You told her?!” I asked Aimee sceptically,
“She found your shoes and then tortured it out of me,” Aimee objected,
“You told me straight out!” Flo grinned and I leant back around the wall,
“So we’re telling people?” I asked slowly,
“What’s the big deal?”
“What’s the big deal? The big deal? Well Aimee it will start with us telling the others, Silas, Lou and Ian and then we’ll be able to see each other in public, a stranger – probably someone staying in the hotel will recognise me and sell the information to the press. You know, you’re a journalist… Some magazine which writes crap about celebrities. They’ll want photos, naturally and will come here, we’ll be sitting by the pool and they’ll jump out of nowhere and snap some shots. Next thing you know they’ll be critics commenting on how pale you are, or how your hair is the wrong colour for you eyes and how you’re a nobody. People will come and ask for interviews, “What’s he like in bed?” “What’s the most romantic thing he’s done?” You’ll come home and you won’t be able to get to your door because of press, they’ll hammer and hammer you with questions until your mind is buzzing so loud you think you’re going to explode. Then stories will come out about my seeing someone else or cheating on you… You’ll get your doubts and our relationship will be over.” I took a breath and Aimee raised her eyebrows.
“That’s quite a sequence of events, I liked the exaggeration and do you think I’m too pale?”
“Aimee, the point is no relationship in the limelight will last,”
“Why can’t we be the first?” she asked,
“Because it doesn’t work like that!”
“How does it work?!”
“It works by not telling anyone,”
“What about the Beckhams?”
“What about them?”
“They’re like the most famous couple; they’re happily married with four kids!”
“It’s not the point,” I sighed,
“What is your point?!” she argued.
“I know guys,” Flo spoke up quietly, “why don’t I just not tell anyone?”
“You would do that?” Aimee asked slowly, Flo nodded and Aimee threw her arms around Flo. “I love you!”
“Although when you do come out the closet and you become a famous footballer’s wife, don’t forget me!”
“Never!” Aimee agreed still hugging Flo, I smiled sadly and sighed, fame was the last thing I’d wish upon Aimee and I knew if I wanted a future with her; it was inevitable – unless I quit football.