Grumpy footballer

Chapter Two: Grumpy footballer 

The evening air at The Savage mansion was calm, but the private football pitch behind the house was anything but.

The sound of a ball hitting the net echoed sharply. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Xander Savage was alone on the pitch, dressed in a black training kit, boots digging into the grass as he practiced relentlessly. Sweat rolled down his temple, his breathing heavy, controlled but his mind was far from calm.

He sprinted forward, struck the ball hard, and watched it slam into the goalpost. He didn’t celebrate. He turned, jaw tight, eyes dark. Another ball rolled to his feet, he kicked again. Harder.

“Brooding again?” a voice called out.

Xander didn’t turn.

Wendy walked onto the pitch, phone in hand, blue hair tied up casually. She wore an oversized hoodie and trainers, chewing gum as she approached him like this was a normal evening—which it was.

“You’re going to break something if you keep doing that,” she said lightly. “Relax, bro.” 

Xander finally stopped, hands on his hips. “What do you want, Wendy?”

She grinned. “Wow. Someone’s grumpy.”

She held up her phone. “Look.”

Xander glanced at the screen. Pictures from the match filled it—him scoring, him celebrating, him shaking hands with Wendy. His face hardened instantly. He walked over, grabbed the phone, scrolled fast, then tossed it onto the grass.

Wendy gasped dramatically. “Excuse you!”

“She blocked me,” Xander said flatly.

Wendy blinked, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God,” she said between laughs. “Is that what this is about?”

Xander stared at her. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Wendy replied, wiping her eyes. “You’re acting like she deleted you from existence.”

“She blocked me on Snapchat,” he snapped. “No explanation. Nothing, just ghosted.”

Wendy bent down, picked up her phone, and dusted it off. “Relax. It’s not that deep.”

Xander scoffed. “Not that deep?”

“It’s Snapchat, Xander. People block each other for breathing wrong or mood wings.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “We were talking. For two weeks.”

“Exactly,” Wendy said. “Two weeks. Not two years.”

“She laughed at my jokes. She stayed up late with me. She sent voice notes.” His voice lowered. “Then she blocked me.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “You’re lucky.”

“Lucky?” he repeated sharply.

“Yes,” she said. “Because no one knows she was your talking stage. Imagine if that leaked.”

Xander stopped pacing. “Why would it leak?”

Wendy smirked. “Because you’re Xander Savage. People breathe and it trends.”

He clenched his jaw. “How can she play me like that?”

Wendy shrugged. “Freya plays everyone.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” Wendy said. “That’s literally her reputation.”

Xander stared at the grass. “Then why talk to me at all?”

“So you just noticed her like two weeks ago?” Wendy softened slightly. “Well, maybe she liked you. Maybe she didn’t want to.”

“I only noticed her three weeks ago from a photograph she took of me.” He laughed bitterly. “But her attitude makes no sense. She approached me herself.”

“It does make sense for someone like her.”

Xander looked up. “You’re still going to be friends with her, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Wendy said easily. “We’re not really friends but we talk.” 

His eyes darkened. “You’ll still talk to her even after this?”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “She didn’t do anything to me.”

“She embarrassed me.”

“You embarrassed yourself by catching feelings,” Wendy shot back.

Silence fell between them. Then Wendy sighed. “Look, bro. She blocks people when things feel real. That’s her thing.”

Xander’s fists clenched. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” Wendy agreed. “But it makes it her.”

She turned to leave. “Try not to break the goalpost.”

“Wendy.”

She paused. “Yeah?”

“If she talks to you about me…”

“I won’t tell you,” Wendy finished. “Good night, Savage.”

She walked away, leaving him alone under the dim pitch lights. Xander stood still for a long moment, then he ran. He charged toward the ball and kicked it with all the anger in his chest. The ball flew violently into the net, he didn’t stop.

***

The next day, Freya Woods sat upright in a quiet waiting area, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her camera bag rested at her feet. Her portfolio was placed carefully beside her. Her heart was racing.

She exhaled slowly, then whispered, “Please.”

She had applied for the position of Assistant Photographer and Fashion Stylist at LEGACY, one of the most respected creative companies in the UK.

Fashion. Media. Influence. Everything she loved. The receptionist had told her something unusual earlier. “The CEO wants to see you herself.”

That alone had nearly made Freya turn around and run. She glanced down at her hands, then at her portfolio. Inside were her best works—events, portraits, campus shoots, candid moments frozen perfectly.

“You’ve got this,” she murmured.

Suddenly, movement stirred the room. People straightened, whispers spread. The door opened.

“She’s here.”

Everyone stood instantly. Freya shot up with the rest, her heart slamming. A woman walked in, she was tall, elegant, dressed in a sharp cream suit. Her presence filled the space effortlessly.

The CEO of LEGACY.

She didn’t smile. She didn’t greet anyone. She walked straight into her office, the door closed behind her.

Freya swallowed hard and sat down slowly.

“She’s scary,” someone whispered nearby.

“She’s brilliant,” another replied.

Freya leaned back slightly, trying to calm her breathing. Why would she want to see me personally? She pressed her lips together. Then footsteps echoed again, someone else walked in.

Freya looked up. Her stomach dropped.

Xander Savage walked in. He wore a clean black jacket, hair neat, he wasn’t smiling as usual. Their eyes met instantly, his expression hardened, so did hers.

He broke eye contact first and walked past her, straight toward the CEO’s office. Freya frowned slightly.

“Why is he here?” She leaned back, thinking.

“Probably an endorsement,” she muttered under her breath. “He’s a star.”

She adjusted her grip on her portfolio, trying not to care. Then whispers started again.

“That’s him.”

“The football prodigy.”

“Isn’t he…?”

“Yeah.”

Freya tilted her head slightly, listening.

“That’s the CEO’s son.”

Her heart skipped.

“What?”

“I heard it too.”

“He’s her only son.”

Freya’s chest tightened. Her gaze snapped to the office door Xander had entered. Her pulse raced.

The CEO’s son.

Her fingers curled slowly around her portfolio. Fear crept into her chest. 

“What have I walked into?” Her heart pounded harder as she stared at the closed door.