Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1) - R.S. Grey Page 0,39
accent reminded me of Rita Skeeter, and the longer she stood there, the more annoyed I became. She was drawing attention to me; every table within a few yards was full of people staring in our direction. For what? Because a guy had watched my soccer practice?
“My love life is none of your business. Are you and your cameraman fucking in the news van?”
She reared back with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard by my brazen question.
“Exactly. It’s not fun to be pestered about your personal life.”
“That may be the case, but the world doesn’t care about Terry,” she said with an icy smile while pointing at the cameraman behind her. “They want to know about the person gallivanting around with the man who was once England’s most eligible bachelor.”
I felt a pang of annoyance for Freddie. If people like Sophie Boyle hounded me day and night, I’d lose my mind.
“What is going on here?” Kinsley asked, sidling past Sophie to drop our food on the table. She didn’t wait for the reporter to respond; she angled her body so that she was blocking me from the camera. “Funny, I thought only athletes and their families were allowed in this section of the village. So, either the committee added ‘Bad Eye-Shadowed Reporters’ to the Olympic schedule, or you need to leave.”
Sophie stammered and though I couldn’t see her any more, I imagined her squirming under Kinsley’s sharp stare.
“No problem. We’ve already got everything we need.” She angled around Kinsley so I could see her bright red hair and dark, evil eyes. “Thanks for the interview Ms. Foster.”
I kept my eye on Sophie as she led the cameraman out of the food court. With his camera clutched under his arm and her microphone hidden away in her purse, they could almost pass as two normal people.
“Who were those people?” Becca asked as she joined our table, half turned around to watch Sophie walk out of the food court. “What the hell were they doing in here?” She slid a plate of food toward me.
“Trying to interview Andie. They must have slipped past security during all the chaos.”
“What’d they want to ask you?” Becca asked, sliding into a seat.
I eyed the massive egg white omelet Becca had brought me. I’d been hungry earlier, but Sophie had replaced it with a bottomless pit of annoyance.
“Andie?”
“Oh.” I glanced up halfheartedly. “Just soccer stuff.”
I didn’t have to look to know they didn’t believe me. What would Kinsley and Becca think of Sophie’s questions? I was making a name for myself in the soccer world—most people had never heard of me—and if that interview aired, I’d be splashed across the internet as the idiot girl at the Olympics focused on men instead of soccer. The Olympic slut, trying to steal Freddie from his beloved Caroline.
“Andie, you okay?” Kinsley asked, reaching to touch my arm.
I flashed her a big, fake smile and nodded. “Never better.”
I COULDN’T SHAKE the dark cloud Sophie Boyle had cast over my day. Not even a solid practice and a long workout could pull my mind out of the black. I’d regretted kissing Freddie as I was kissing Freddie. I wasn’t delusional; I knew it wasn’t in my best interest long-term. I’d forced us to keep the masks on in hopes that it would help separate fantasy from real life, but Sophie Boyle had confirmed that wasn’t possible.
Someone has seen us walking out of my practice together and the media had gotten wind of it. What were the odds they’d find out about the club too? We hadn’t been careful. We’d made out in the middle of the third floor. Freddie’s hand had been up my freaking dress for half the night.
My stomach hurt just thinking about it. I had made the mistake of thinking Freddie was the only one needing discretion, but if the details of the club ever surfaced, I had no clue what it would mean for me. My career? Sponsorships? Even my personal relationships would take a hit if word got out that Caroline was his betrothed and I was just his whore.
“Andie, how’s the wrist?” Liam asked after practice.
We’d just broken from the huddle and I was working at unwinding the tape the trainer had worked so hard to apply a few hours earlier. It seemed like a never-ending process.
“It’s fine. I think I’ll take something before the game just in case.”
“Good idea.” He stepped closer. “Kinsley mentioned there was a reporter trying to interview you at breakfast?”