Chapter 10

“Kalinowski! Don’t ruin what little brains either of your gormless friends have! And Williams, wipe that smirk off your face, don’t pander to Kalinowski’s delusions that he’s funny!”

“No, Miss, sorry, Miss,” the other three chorused, and Anton bit his lip to hide the smile. There was a warmth in Anton’s stomach that was nothing to do with Jude’s smile or his proximity when he slung an arm casually over Anton’s shoulders as the captains finished picking. It was something a bit like belonging, something Anton had been chasing for years, and although he didn’t quite—yet—dare join in with the teasing, he laughed and didn’t try to defend Jude when Larimer retaliated with a battle-cry and rugby-tackle into the cold, hard grass, he felt he was supposed to be standing there, right there, in this new group.

“Larimer! Leave your overwhelming desire for physical contact with Kalinowski off the pitch!”