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“Do you miss it?”
Alice turns back to face Gemma but that proves to be a mistake, the striker staring directly at her.
Alice averts eye contact. “Football?” She asks.
“Not the sport itself, it’s still a part of your life, but playing it. Working with a team, making passes, the ball between your feet, a jersey on your back?”
“Every day.” Alice admits without thinking. “I miss it every single day.”
“I thought so.” Gemma says, then adding, “I was always envious of your determination. Your drive. To think the only thing that could take you out of what you love was yourself. There is a poetic quality to that, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re drunk.” Alice says bluntly, placing her phone in her lap so she could grip the curb with both her hands as she hides her face between her knees. “And so is this driver,” She groans, the words coming out muffled. “I would cancel and walk if it weren’t so far away.”
Gemma places a hand over Alice’s and the assistant coach’s head shoots back up in an instant.
“Maybe I am drunk.” Gemma admits, her lips curving up at the ends.
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OR what might have happened following the night of the Lady Greyhounds arrest.