LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘Ronnie!’ Amber squealed, jumping out of her chair and throwing herself into her best friend’s arms.

      She’d known Ronnie White for almost ten years now. An ex-professional, North-East-born footballer – and a pretty famous one at that – he was now a popular TV football pundit and commentator after his career had been ended due to injury five years ago, at the age of thirty. He now split his time between his home in Northumberland, and London, but Amber never saw enough of him. He was the only footballer who’d caused her to break her ‘no relationships of any kind with any footballers’ rule, and she loved him. Like a brother. Despite that very brief and very physical relationship during his time as a top-flight player. But that was all over now. She was just glad their friendship had survived the post-sex period. ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘I thought I’d come and surprise you,’ Ronnie grinned, swinging her round before putting her back down, holding her out at arm’s length. ‘I’m back up north to cover Ryan Fisher’s first game with Newcastle Red Star at the weekend.’

      ‘I didn’t know that match was being televised,’ Amber said, ridiculously excited to see him. It’d been a while, and she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed him, until now.

      ‘You know how they change these things. With the arrival of both Jim Allen and Fisher at Red Star, suddenly this game looks like the more exciting option. And it gives me the perfect excuse to come home for a few days. You did know about Jim Allen signing as Red Star’s new manager, didn’t you?’

      ‘Yeah. Of course I knew,’ Amber said, pushing a hand through her newly-dyed hair before giving Ronnie another big hug.

      ‘Put him down, Amber, and get your arse out of here and over to Red Star’s training ground,’ Kevin said, reappearing beside her desk again. ‘Hello, Ronnie.’

      ‘Kevin… Look, I’m at a bit of a loose end right now, so why don’t I go with Amber this morning? I’m dying to get a look at Fisher in action.’

      ‘I don’t need your help, Ronnie,’ Amber said, leaning back against her desk and folding her arms, that headache showing no signs of dissipating.

      ‘Hey, Miss Defensive. That’s not the reason I want to go with you, alright?’

      ‘Yeah, but having him around might help you get closer to Fisher,’ Kevin pointed out.

      ‘What? Because he’s famous, too?’ Amber asked.

      ‘Err, yeah,’ Kevin replied, looking at Amber as though she’d just made a really stupid comment. ‘He might feel more inclined to come over and speak to somebody he used to share a dressing room with.’

      ‘To be fair, Kevin,’ Ronnie started, ‘… me and Ryan Fisher only played for the same club for about three months. And we were never what you’d call the best of friends. He was just a kid… Anyway, I don’t want to go with Amber to help her get an interview. She’s more than capable of doing that all by herself.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Amber smiled, sticking her tongue out at Kevin, who responded by giving her a rather rude finger gesture.

      ‘I want to go with her because she’s my best mate, and I haven’t seen her for far too long. I just want to spend some time with her.’

      ‘Aaah, isn’t he lovely?’ Amber said, still smiling, squeezing Ronnie’s arm and poking her tongue out at Kevin again.

      ‘Do that too many times and your face’ll stay that way,’ Kevin smirked. ‘And then you won’t stand a chance of luring any players over for an interview, never mind the really famous ones.’

      ‘I’m sure I could do you for some kind of sexual harassment with that comment, Mr. Russell,’ Amber said in a mock-shocked tone.

      ‘Just get your arse out of here, now. Go on. And take him with you,’ Kevin smiled, indicating Ronnie. ‘Fancy a drink later, Ron? Usual place? Around eight-thirty?’

      ‘Sure. Make mine a pint. See you there.’

      Amber glanced over at her best friend. He looked tanned and handsome with his messed-up, dark brown hair and hazel eyes; he also looked happier than she’d seen him in a long while. That long-overdue holiday to Majorca must have done him the world of good, and he’d needed it. The recent divorce from his wife, Karen – who’d left him for a big-name goalkeeper after seven years of marriage – had knocked him for six and Amber still wished she could have been there for him more than she had been.

      ‘Everything okay with you?’ she asked, linking her arm through his as they made their way to the underground car park.

      ‘If you mean am I getting over Karen, then yes. Slowly. I’ve stopped blaming myself, anyway.’

      Amber squeezed his arm, stopping briefly to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘It never was your fault, Ronnie.’

      He shrugged, sliding his arm round her waist and giving it a quick squeeze. ‘Maybe I just wasn’t there for her enough.’

      ‘That’s not an excuse to go shagging about though, is it? She knew what she was getting into when she married a footballer. I mean, that’s half the reason I steer well clear of relationships with you lot.’

      They stepped into the lift and Ronnie leaned back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, a slight smile on his face. ‘That’s the reason, huh? You don’t like to be alone too much, is that it?’

      Amber smiled back. ‘On the contrary. I love being alone.’

      ‘Bollocks! Come on, Amber. You’ve been on your own for far too long now. Isn’t it about time you found yourself a nice young man to share your life with?’

      She looked at him out the corner of her eye as the lift finally reached the underground car park. ‘Who are you? My father? And, for your information, I don’t want a “nice young man” to share my life with.’

      ‘Whatever you say,’ Ronnie sighed, following her out into the strip-lit car park. ‘I just hope it wasn’t me who put you off relationships with footballers.’

      Amber said nothing for a few seconds, continuing to walk with her head down before she fixed a smile on her face and turned to look at him. ‘You flatter yourself, Mr. White.’

      They finally reached Amber’s car, Ronnie resting his arms on the roof of her pale blue Fiat 500 as he smiled at her. ‘So, what do you think of Ryan Fisher?’

      ‘Not much,’ Amber replied, climbing into the driver’s side, relieved he’d changed the subject.

      ‘He didn’t win you over with the famous Fisher charm, then?’ Ronnie slid into the passenger seat, immediately fiddling with the radio to try and find the sports station he occasionally did some work for.

      ‘No. He didn’t.’ Amber backed out of the parking space and drove slowly out into the late-August sunshine, sliding her sunglasses down over her eyes the second they hit daylight. ‘Has he always been such a cocky bastard?’

      ‘He’s always been extremely confident, if that’s what you mean.’

      ‘No. That’s not what I mean. There’s a difference between cocky and confident, and he was most definitely cocky. Almost as if he just expected me to fall at his over-insured feet. And the second it was evident that I wasn’t going to do that, his mood changed.’

      ‘Well, one thing I do know about Ryan Fisher is that he’s never had a problem getting the women. So, what happened? Did you knock him back?’ Ronnie grinned.

      Amber briefly looked at him, smiling slightly. ‘No, I didn’t knock him back because he never asked me anything.’

      ‘Ryan Fisher doesn’t need to ask, Amber. He just gets. Whatever he wants, usually. That’s the way this game plays out these days, with players at his level.’

      ‘Did

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