No Running From Me

2. A Challenge

❝you're sure you don't want the back,
I am here to stay.❞

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I am naturally from Leeds. I grew up with an absentee father and an alcohol-addicted mother who wanted to mould me her way. Despite her spending all her money on booze, my mother is rich, she inherited a good inheritance from my grandfather. I and her don't have the best relationship in the world, of course it's been much worse, so we live better apart, her there and me here.

Besides the addiction, my mother is also insufferable because she doesn't support my dream of being a dancer. I did four years of business studies at Birmingham University when we moved there, just to please her, and I met Jack when I got an internship in the administration department at Aston Villa two years ago.

Of course, even though I did business school, I didn't stop chasing my dream. Today I do what I like with dancing, but the salary is not enough to pay all the expensive bills that living in Manchester is. Everything is so expensive that I have to split myself into two jobs to function. The opportunity to move fell like a glove. I couldn't stand living in my mum's house anymore. I don't intend to stay in Manchester, either. Furthermore, I'm trying to get into some artist's dance group, anyone. Just one big break, that's all I need to make my life take off.

Jack is standing a little further away. Wearing an ironic plush black Palm Angels t-shirt and light ripped jeans. His hair is loose, falling in his face. He gives a smile and approaches me. The soles of his trainers drag on the ground, and the chain around his neck dangles. I knew we would meet at some point, but I didn't think it would be so quick.

Jack saw me dancing in a club downtown once. And no, it wasn't a strip club. I'm not a stripper, I'm a dancer and pole dancer. I like to stress that phrase because there is a difference. Nothing against strippers, by the way, being a stripper is also a job. We require ending it of this prejudice. My best friend, Billie, is a stripper, and she does not do this because she is in need as most people think. I've done a few gigs out of curiosity, but it's nothing to me.

That night, Jack and I exchanged few words, but the fun fact was when he met me again at Villa Park the next day. It was my first day at the Stadium, and I had to do my best to ignore him and pretend I didn't know him. I couldn't spoil it, maybe it was a silly mistake because he never gave me peace again.

"Hi, Joanna." He slides his finger across the little metal letters that form my name on my uniform, the lines of expression marking his hazel brown eyes and the uninhibited little smile. His finger touches my bust and I pull it away quickly because his touch seems to give me a shock.

"It's Joey! Jo-ey!" I exclaim as I shake off his spell. Sometimes I forget how beautiful and smelly he is. Very smelly, perfume and aftershave lotion: DIOR Sauvage, I'm sure. "How many times do I have to say it, Grealish?"

"Joanna is your name." He lets out the syllables of my name like he's my primary school teacher. I cross my arms, clearly defensive.

"Yeah, but no one calls me that. " I hate being called Joanna. I don't like my name, even if my mom repeats over and over again that it was inspired in Joana d'Arc. "What are you doing here?"

"I am at my new club's stadium, can't I be here?"

"Of course you can, you'll even have plenty of time to get to know it, you don't need this tour." I turn my back on him, certain that if Jack signed with City, he would tour the stadium accompanied by a camera to generate media for the club's social networks. I think that was scheduled for tomorrow, on my day off. Not only that, but I don't know why the hell he decided to turn up here today.

"Where are you going?"

"Helping out at the mega store." I keep walking, realizing he's following me. "It's crazy over there, you know? All because of you."

"I saw it." He laughs, quickening his pace and standing right in front of me. I keep walking as he walks. He's walking backwards, not taking his eyes off me. "I just got it out of there too, you should thank me."

"Stop following me."

I try to swerve to get past him, but he follows every one of my steps like he has a PhD in walking backwards.

"No, I paid for the tour, I'm within my rights." Jack stops, and I have to brake sharply to avoid colliding with his chest.

"As if a measly twenty-five pounds is going to make a player who earns millions poorer." I roll my eyes. "Ask for a refund."

I move to shove him out of the way, but he holds my arm.

"No. If you don't stop, I'm gonna follow you to the mega store. You think Trevor's gonna be happy? Do you think people will stop coming?" He does his job of persuasion so well that I'm looking up at him now, feeling every area of his fingers gripping my arm. Shit, I wasn't supposed to let him touch me. "Be professional, Joey, and do your job."

"You're not calling me unprofessional!" I exclaim altered because it hits my ego. I try to pull away, but he increases the pressure of his fingers and pulls me close so easily that I'm almost dizzy.

Jack doesn't need to use physical force to get anyone in the palm of his hand because he has something better, skill.

"Yes, I am, because you can't get one lousy hour alone with me."

A challenge. Jack's full of these little games. Bastard.

"You swear?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore the circles your thumb is making on my arm.

"I'm sure of it." He releases me, and I almost squeal in frustration. Jack brings his hands behind his head, stretching his arms and contracting his muscles. Then he licks his lips, drilling his eyes into mine and accentuating his brummie accent as he lets out the words: "You know that otherwise I'm going to have you between my legs, screaming my name and begging me to fuck you."

"You're a pervert." I accuse, trying to shake it off, he polluted my head with that image. The words boiled down my body to my crotch. He has such sexy composure, I have no idea how I'm still standing.

"As if you weren't, either." He gives a sideways smile. Shit. I refuse to agree with him, but I can't deny it either.

"And it's wrong." I complete ignoring his last line.

"Then prove it. Take the tour with me, Jojocat." A nerve snaps in my temple. I. Hate. That. Nickname. He holds my jaw and strokes my cheek. "Prove me wrong."

I take a deep breath, trying to control my breathing. I'm way stronger than his cheap Prince Charming charm from the Shrek film.

"Okay, fine. I'll prove you wrong."