Gold Rush

There She Was

Half time.
Thankfully nothing happened in the way of injuries, or goals for that matter, as City were now 1-0 down to West Ham.

Sophie lingered outside the home dressing room with Kate, listening to a frustrated Pep Guardiola lose his head with the guys. He was so passionate and skilled, he clearly knew what he was doing but she thought the delivery could have been a little softer.
However, there was method in his madness as whatever he said had worked and the team came back out more ready than ever. Jack in-particular was hungrily hunting the ball, pouncing constantly. Like a crazed kitten chasing yarn.

Wrapping herself up snuggly in her layered fleeced waterproof, she placed herself pitch side next to Kate and Cole in the stand behind Pep, which was reserved for a fraction of the team of people needed to make match day happen and to look after this group of fully grown men.

Sophie relaxed into her chair, she just couldn't take her eyes of him. Trademark headband holding his thick brunette, slightly blonde tipped locks out of the way. She noticed his hair playfully bounced along with him when he sped up and down the pitch. His arse bounced too. As did his thighs. He was impossible. Her legs instinctively crossed as she watched him work his magic, a simple movement such as this made her knickers and trousers tighten around her crotch. there.
Her whole body felt on fire.

City equalised with a fabulous goal from Phil Foden and in the heat of the moment one of the West Ham players clashed heatedly with Kyle Walker, whilst the ref dealt with them a couple of players ran over to the stand in an attempt to quickly hydrate. Jack being one of them.

-
He'd noticed her immediately, up there behind the gaffer, looking innocent and trying so very hard to be professional. What a good girl.
The pinkness to her cheeks gave away how she was really feeling, along with the way her mouth opened slightly at the sight of him.
Lips parted.
He could almost hear her breaths.
God, he couldn't wait to get a hold of her.
The stirring sensation and need he felt under his belly was driving him unbearably insane, he wasn't used to this. Having to wait.
-

Their eyes locked, Jack raised the water bottle to his lips and squirted until his mouth was full. Eyes still connected, he swallowed and swiftly winked up at her. Sophie shifted in her seat. He was devastating.

Kate quickly noticed this exchange, not the type to let it go. Too observant for her own good.
'Why did Grealish just wink at us?'
Sophie said nothing, her gaze following Jack's outline running back into position.
'Oh my god... is something going on with you guys?'
Again, she remained silent and Kate's voice reached a pitch that only canines could acknowledge, 'oh my god.. THERE IS!!!'
A few people in front of them turned around upon hearing her squeal and Sophie hissed at her over excited colleague in hushed tones, 'Please be quiet! We are not having this discussion here!'
'Ok.. ok sorry.. but listen, we are going out tonight and you're telling me everything' Kate stated cooly, relaxing her shoulders into the chair.

Jack's dancing feet fascinatingly teased the ball past the defenders and bang on the 89th minute, he scored a goal. An undoubtedly amazing, typical Grealish goal. City won 2-1.
He rallied around the pitch, sliding on his knees to the sea of fans in sky blue who adoringly cheered for him, fingers in his ears and grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

The final whistle went and the team piled into the stadium tunnel to get changed and showered, meanwhile Jack remained on the pitch handing his shirt over to a young fan in the stands and lingering for post match interviews.

She could have watched him out there running the show for hours, observing him oozing with charisma at the journalists, just him simply being himself, but she had work to do. Sophie gathered the medical supplies and backpacks and placed them on the stretcher. Kate grabbed the other end and they made their way back into the stadium.

-
Jack's body pumped with adrenaline. That goal felt euphoric. A long time coming. He'd spent a good hour after the match doing interviews and speaking to the young fans who lined the front row of the stands. It had always been drummed into him by his dad to make the effort with the fans and he remembered as clear as day waiting to meet footballers after matches. How much he idolised them growing up. It genuinely made him so happy, knowing the lasting impact he'd have on these kids.

The home dressing room was practically empty when he finally found his way back inside the Etihad. Ederson and Dias congratulated him on his performance and said their goodbyes. Following a game, most of the players usually left straight away to get into their cars, eager to head home.

But he needed to wash badly.

Rapidly, he peeled off his kit and chucked it into the huge basket in the middle of the room. Which already was piled high with worn socks, shorts and compression shirts, all ready to be laundered.
Completely, gloriously naked, he strode into the large open cubicle. The dark grey tiles and low yellow lighting providing for a calm atmosphere. He took a deep breath, letting the powerful shower burst with hot water, it prickled his skin. He was sweaty, but his body fizzed from the come down of the adrenaline high. Water trickled from his hair down his large chest, back and toned stomach.

Suddenly, Jack was aware of a presence. He was being watched.

And there she was.