"Oh fuck off," Andrew muttered, his eyes firmly trained on the screen as the referee handed over a penalty to Atletico.
"Play fair next time." Marko chuckled, taking a sip of his beer.
"Yeah yeah..." Andrew said, rolling his eyes, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees, watching the TV keenly. Marko watched with an easy, relaxed confidence as the score went from two nil to three.
He'd needed this. Work was as bad as ever, and Alan seemed to have noticed without him having to say anything; the invitations to hang out, do anything else, distract him from it, had been increasing week on week. When Alan had suggested they meet at his place to do nothing more than have a beer and watch the football he'd also made it somewhat clear that refusal wasn't an option.
Marko had given the guy an appreciative hug when he arrived, hoping it'd be enough to say thank you, and been surprised when Alan hurried him through to the living room, explaining something about Aoife and 'the girls' being on a warpath in the kitchen. Wedding planning, apparently, the kind that Alan wasn't allowed to be around for. He hadn't elaborated further, and Marko hadn't asked, assuming something along the lines of hen parties and dresses.
It meant the beer was warm, but he couldn't have cared less. It was nice just sitting there and occasionally teasing the other two about the state of Chelsea FC, feeling relaxed for the first time all week.
Just as Morata ran up to score, the door to the living room opened, and Marko looked up, missing what had to have been a goal if Alan and Andrew's groans were anything to go by. He didn't care.
Eliza peered around the door before stepping inside, glancing at the TV, barely seeming to see him. Marko blinked up at her, surprised to suddenly be faced with the woman he'd been thinking about for the past week, not having known she'd been in the house. Apparently Alan had included her in 'the girls,' and not thought to mention it. Although, why would he? He didn't know Marko had been obsessing over her since their first meeting. Did that mean Aoife had picked her to be a bridesmaid in the end?
She looked stunning, as per usual, that same slightly 60's style back again. What would have been a rather conservative black turtleneck for her was made unbelievably eye-catching to him simply by virtue of how thin it was, how it clung to her, how he could see the outline of her bra underneath it. Alan and Andrew barely registered her presence, like it was expected, like she wasn't the most beautiful fucking woman in the world.
"Who's winning?" She asked, and to his surprise, settled on the arm of the couch, right next to him, crossing her legs in his direction. He tried not to focus on it, but the way her white leather miniskirt rode up her thighs was already replaying in his mind. Her black tights weren't thick enough to hide the tattoos she had underneath, which peeked through, tantalising and intricate.
Focus on the football.
"Atletico." Alan muttered, sounding unhappy.
"Hang on, are you a Chelsea fan?" Eliza asked suddenly, incredulous as she stared at the screen, noticing the home team.
"For life." Alan said, taking a sip of his beer. Marko continued to stare at the TV, trying to ignore the scent of Eliza's perfume and the indignant way she laughed that seemed to really do it for him.
"Alan, I thought I could trust you! You know I can't let this wedding go through now." She said, and nudged Marko, finally looking at him. "What about you?" She asked, an amused smirk on those beautiful red lips.
"Atletico." He replied, looking up at her and holding up his hands in defence. "I'm with you on this."
"Good." She replied, pleased, and draped an arm along the back of the sofa behind him, stretching out and leaning over in a way that was probably more comfortable for her, but brought her chest closer to his face, the smoky scent of her perfume drifting nearer. Jesus Christ.
It was near impossible to relax and focus on the game with her this close.
"How's the hen-do planning going?" Alan asked, and she mimed rubbing cash between her fingers.
"Expensively."
"Have you guys finished?"
"God no," Eliza reached over and, to his surprise, took Marko's beer from his hand, taking a sip from it without asking, his eyes drawn magnetically to her lips on the tip of the bottle. "I told them I needed the loo."
She handed Marko his beer back without looking at him, her eyes still trained on the game, and he took it, feeling a definite clenching in his balls as he did. He kept watching her as he took a sip, lips touching where hers had, wondering what her mouth tasted like as he felt the cold beer run down his throat.
God he was pent up. He returned his attention to the TV but found he could barely focus, not with her crossed thighs so close to him. He wanted to pull her legs apart, press her against the wall, take her standing up, make her notice him, make her call his name.
Christ, he was getting hard.
He cleared his throat and stood up.
"Be right back." He said, battling headrush as he stepped into the hall and somewhat hurried into the downstairs bathroom. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain control of the almost frenzied expression on his face.
He had to stop thinking about her like that, it wasn't right. She had a boyfriend, she'd told him she wasn't looking for a repeat of their too brief tryst in the cloakroom. He couldn't keep kidding himself into thinking she was flirting with him. She was, apparently, just like that. And hell, even if she was flirting with him, unless she actually said or did something to show him she wanted more, he was at a standstill.
It was quickly becoming the one thing he was dreading about the wedding. Her bringing along Ben for their long weekend, having to watch the two of them together for the whole thing.
Marko knew he was allowed a plus one, knew he could probably find one if he wanted to. But he'd not felt like this around a woman since fucking high school. The kind of out-of-your-mind crush where you're thinking about them constantly. Any plus one he brought would be able to see that.
He sighed and splashed his face with cold water, trying to think about anything else.
When he returned to the living room, Eliza had moved off the arm of the couch to his seat, and glanced up with a guilty grin as he came in.
"Sorry. You can sit here, there's space." She patted the sofa between her and Andrew, and Marko raised an eyebrow. Ok. Fine.
Carefully, he took a seat between the two of them, selfishly sitting closer to Eliza than he needed to, unable to stop his body from acting on impulse, wanting to touch her to him. She didn't complain or move away as their arms, hips, legs touched. In fact, she seemed supremely relaxed about it.
"Who do you support?" He asked her, keeping his gaze firmly trained ahead.
"Arsenal." She replied and Andrew shook his head, tutting.
"Not even a South end team."
"Well it was hardly gonna be Millwall was it." She retorted, and pulled her legs up onto the sofa, pressing her thigh against Marko's. Neither of them was acknowledging it, and frankly he was happy to let it carry on like that. "Besides, Alan's Scottish and he's apparently a Chelsea fan." She mimed throwing up and Marko found himself smiling.
"That's because there's no good Scottish teams." He said and Alan cried out indignantly.
"Oi, watch it mate."
Eliza laughed quietly to herself and reached over for Marko's beer again, this time looking at him for approval. He nodded at her and she smiled, eyes glinting as she took a sip, watching him the whole time before handing the bottle back.
What was happening?
She was too taken, and too fucking hot to be acting like this.
Then again, fuck it.
He pushed his hair back with one hand and then moved, stretching it to rest on the back of the sofa behind her, acting like it was casual while it felt anything but. She didn't flinch, in fact, her body language shifted slightly so that she was further turned into him, her head nearly resting on his arm.
He could feel the blood rushing down his body again, traitorously heading for his cock like he was asking for his thoughts to be broadcast.
Focus on the football, Cruz, you can shamefully jack off when you get home.
Luckily it was a distractingly good game. All four of them cried out in unison as a particularly nasty slide tackle landed one of Chelsea's players with a yellow card; Marko and Eliza insistent that it should have been a red, Alan and Andrew indignant it was a card at all. Aoife didn't seem to mind that one of her bridesmaids had ditched the planning session, and he was glad. He'd call off the wedding himself if he could stay sat next to Eliza like this.
"God I've really got to get back to the gym, just watching them running about is making me tired." Eliza muttered.
"Are you still at the boxing ring?" Alan asked and she shook her head.
"No. Got too expensive."
"My gym has free guest passes if you want to use one." Marko said, before he could stop and think. "I think you get one free visit every two weeks?"
She looked at him, clearly surprised at the offer. Which was fair enough. They barely knew each other. He would have been more measured, probably not even suggested it, if the thought of her at the gym, wearing some obscenely tight shorts, hadn't come crashing into the forefront of his mind like a freight train.
"Uh, sure. Would we have to go at the same time?" She asked, and he swore he saw her lips twitch into an amused smirk.
"I think so." He replied, as if he didn't know the answer.
"I'd take him up on that if I were you Lizzy, it's a proper posh one." Alan said, and Marko sent a silent thanks to him for the unwitting wingman move. Eliza kept watching Marko, his body achingly aware of how close they were, how little effort it would be to lean over and kiss her.
"How posh?" She asked Alan, her gaze not moving from Marko for a second. They were so fucking close. He was done for.
"Pool, spa, restaurant, the whole dealio." Alan said, and held up a finger, "Plus he knows what he's doing. He knows how to use all those machines that look like torture devices." He pointed at Marko and Eliza raised an eyebrow.
"Free pool and free personal trainer? I'm in."
He smiled back at her, and looked back at the TV, trying to conceal the sudden panic settling in as he realised exactly how stupid the offer had been.
