Half Time Stories: The Space Between Us
Read the first story in my new short story romance series NOW!
Welcome to this new short series I’m calling, Half Time Stories.
(If only there were an emoji for wink wink, nudge nudge, because if you know, you’ll know the link behind the name and the game… 😉)
Starting this year, I knew I didn’t want to keep you waiting too much longer for a taste of my sports romance book that is in the works. I know how eager you are to get your hands on it (hopefully sooner, rather than later), SO whilst you wait I thought I’d invite you behind the scenes to see what main characters, Hunter and Sienna, get up to off the page.
In these monthly drops, you can expect to find…
a chance to get to know the characters of my AFL-inspired sports romance book.
AND exclusive scenes that were CUT from the manuscript.
So I introduce you to the very first short story of this series, influenced by T. Swift’s ‘The Alchemy.’
The Space Between Us (SIENNA’S POV)
Sapphire blue and cream knitted scarves whip in the wind. Rows of thousands crowd the stadium, their voices becoming one when they cheer on the Hampton Chargers. The scent of hot chips, dusted in chicken salt mingles with the damp grass, following the light shower before the game. It sparks the feeling of finals in the air. I stand on the sidelines and the lights blaze overhead, making every blade of grass shine on this glorious Saturday night. Crossing my arms over my chest, the bone rattling sound of boots thudding the turf and bodies colliding in a tackle, passes by. The scoreboard glows like a warning. A rolling chant from the Scorchers supporters threatens to challenge the Charger’s players. Beside me and my kit of tapes, ice packs and pain relief gels, Coach, Travis shouts directions to the team. He swaps players out from the bench and orders Hunter back on the field, giving Luca a break.
Hunter breaks into a sprint and I can’t help but watch the way his hamstring flexes and releases with each stride. His shorts inch higher, calves tightening as he pushes off the turf again to reach his team at their oppositions end. Whilst the game is in its dying minutes, and it looks like this could be a repeat of last year’s devasting loss; Hunter moves with a deliberate rhythm. He’s controlled when the rest of his boys are fighting tooth and nail for more disposals. He’s effortless in the way he carries himself and demands the field. When the ball flies from a Scorcher’s players hands and lands in Finn’s grip, Finn handballs it to Grant who then pivots, looking around for the safest option to pass to. Still, amongst the sound of shouting, my vison locks on Hunter. He’s made his way to the centre where he waves his arms to signal to Grant a clear path. My eyes dart to Grant, wondering if he’ll take the obvious option or if he’ll chose another player. I release my arms from around myself, and clasp my hands, in the hope it’ll stop me from chewing my finger nails in anticipation. I haven’t had a player grace my mat and need strapping in the last 20 minutes. Even if one came over now, I’m too on edge to help.
The scoreboard glows with five minutes remaining. Every second will count. Every last disposal matters. It’s make or break. The Chargers need to secure a spot in the finals, and I know Hunter must be feeling the pressure. When he breezes past, ball clutched in his grasp, I see the sweat dribbling down his neck and dampening the back of his guernsey. He steels my breath when I watch him dodge a tackle from Sydney’s captain and proceeds to glance over his shoulder, at me. As the ball makes it way to the Charger’s end, it feels like time stretches thin.
One player kicks to another and the player now in possession, handballs to this teammate but it’s intercepted by the Scorcher’s half forward. I watch the ball spill lose. A fumble ensues, both sides scrambling for the ball. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hunter sprinting towards the struggle. The fans must notice what I’ve seen too since the stadium falls silent. A scorcher defender closes in fast, his shoulders lined up to push Hunter off the ball. My breath catches in my throat, waiting and hoping Hunter’s confidence won’t cost him the game. Hunter swerves the tackle and takes possession in the last two minutes. I watch him from where I stand on the boundary. My toes tap against the grass and my hand curls into fist, with my nails biting into my palm. Hunter drops the ball onto his boot and when it leaves his foot, I can hear the stadium inhale as one. For a moment, it’s as though the ball hangs in the star speckled night sky. Every player stands on the oval, just watching and praying their captain can pull off a miracle once again.
My hand flies to my mouth and I can feel the air rush through my lungs when the ball sails through the goals. The MCG vibrates with the thunder of 90,000 people jumping to their feet and I watch as Hunter’s teammates swarm him. Though he breaks from the group, his daring chestnut eyes catching on mine. My heart is hammering so violently, it feels bruised from the inside. Each beat slams against my ribs like it’s trying to break free. I’m smiling and crying at the same time, breath shuddering in my chest and my hands trembling as if my body can’t decide what to do with the emotion of watching Hunter’s childhood dream coming true. His gaze doesn’t flinch. He could look to the crowd roaring his name or the bench where Travis is applauding. Yet, he continues to stare at me, and it feels like everything else in the stadium melts away, leaving just us.
Relief and pride collide in my chest, tangling together with a sense of love for the man I adore but thought I had lost. When he reaches me at the boundary line, he’s breathless and I can feel the adrenaline vibrating off him in waves. There are centimetres of space between us. He could close the gap, but he doesn’t. His gaze continues to lock on mine. His eyes are bright, wild, and alive. There’s safety in his gaze, and recklessness too.
“I did it! I got us into the finals.” He announces, exasperated.
“You did it babe!” I shout, over the thousands of fans cheering for him.
In the seconds that follow, I feel Hunter’s thick, muscular arms wrap around me. Pulling me in close, I get a whiff of his lynx cologne. The stadium is full of noise and colour, and I forget the professional line I am meant to toe or the cameras that are watching. Hunter’s forehead dips until ours noses brush. His breath tickles my cupid’s bow. It’s a gentle tease but enough to make my heart stumble over itself. He gives me no time to think, “Not without you, Sienna.” He replies, smiling wide.
Hunter’s lips finally find mine. It’s a whisper of contact at first, like he’s asking if can rather than taking for granted. He tastes like grape flavoured Gatorade, with a hint of sweat but I don’t care. The siren finally blares, cutting through the roar of the crowd and it’s the encouragement Hunter needs to kiss me harder. I can feel Hunter refusing to pull away, even when I can hear the journalists’ footsteps edging closer and shouting, “Kennedy! Excuse me, Kennedy!” He begrudgingly breaks away, resting his forehead against mine. Looking up at him, he smiles and in this moment, I know the sign on his heart says it’s still reserved for me.
I hope you enjoyed this insight into the world of my AFL inspired sports romance book! I’d love to know what other settings you’d like to see Hunter and Sienna in? Want to get to know their friends? Drop a comment and tell me what you’d look forward to reading.
