Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer. Not Me. (That's who owns these characters.) Plot, however, is all myyyy twisted brain.
(As most/Many of you will be completely unaware of the laws and intricacies of cricket, I will define any key terms used within the story before we start. Good luck with understanding it all... if you don't? PM me, and I'll clear it up)
Define Me.
Maiden over: Over (6 balls) bowled without scoring once. Scoreboard reads 000000
Whites: In Test Matches (5 day matches) both teams play in white team strips.
Wicketkeeper: Like a backstop or catcher in baseball, the wicketkeeper essentially stands behind the batsman's wicket, aiming to get the batsman out by any means.
A Fast Bowler: Bowls or delivers the ball very quickly – often at over 90Mph. They need momentum and are usually tall (the tallest I know are Stuart Broad and Steve Finn, at 6ft 6 and 6ft8 respectively). They hit the ground hard and are prone to injury in the knee or ankle.
Twenty20 & Pro40: Forms of the game that last 20 overs (or 120 balls) per side, and 40 overs (240 balls) per side respectively. They usually last just one day and attract large crowds. They can require specialist players, as some players prefer longer forms of the game, some far shorter forms.
Lord's – The pavilion – The Long Room: respectively "the home of cricket", the most revered place at Lord's, housing dressing rooms and member's areas with bars. Considered extremely posh, but extremely lovely to go into. The long room is an area through which the players walk through to access the pitch itself. It has tables and chairs and a good pitch side view.
26) We can bowl a maiden over.
"Cricket." I smiled and looked over at Alice, who was rolling her eyes and keeping her head down, trying not to let the smirk that sincerely wanted to slip onto her face appear. "Oh, shut up, Ali, you know my obsession's only about an eighth serious as yours."
"Yes, Bella, lovely, but you know that watching eleven grown men running around dressed in," She stopped and clapped her hands over her heart melodramatically, "whites! Of all colours, when they're playing on grass!" She carried on rambling under her breath about the dreadful, traditional fashion choices of the gentleman's sport for a good five minutes until she suddenly raised her head and looked up at me, "It's doing your love life no favours if you'll insist on seeing them play almost weekly."
"Sometimes twice weekly," I sighed as Angela decided it was time to join in. "Although I can see the appeal of some of those boys..." She let out a sigh and crossed her arms around herself, "They sure can bowl a maiden over."
Because I'd never heard that innuendo before. There were lists on Facebook of some even more... hmm... inappropriate ones, but to be honest, I had never been specifically interested in the arses in front of me.
"Clearly. Are you coming to any of the matches this season?" How I longed for April. Every year, it seemed further away, and now I was stuck at university, I feared that I would miss out on some of the earlier matches, and with them, the chance to escape reality for a few hours a week... and, perhaps more importantly, to escape Alice. Who was determined to get me out of 'Whites mode' as she called it, and into some kind of 'Fashion fever'. Her words, not mine.
"Of course! Why do you think I asked you to get me the extra member's passes? Hmm?" Angela laughed and looked up at me from where she had settled on the floor, playing absently with my trainers. "Where did you get these, woman? I want a pair."
"Ha, got them last year in Carnaby street. Cheap, but expensive, but cheap," I couldn't help but laugh at her sad expression, until Alice piped up seconds later.
"I can steal the design if you want..." Angela's face brightened, "Bella, look over there, a giant unicorn..." She gestured wildly and I raised an eyebrow at her, picking up my magazine once again.
"Didn't work last time, not going to work this time," I sighed, flicking over the page and looking down at the article. It was the start of the new season in two weeks, and the most recent members' magazine had all the new and returning players in it. I glanced at the old boys, then back up at Alice, wondering if she had ever seen Jasper Whitlock, and whether she would be so blasé about the game if she had. As a matter of fact, I was sure Angela was only interested in the game because she had a huge crush on the Middlesex Wicketkeeper, Ben Cheney. He was cute, but damn, he was short. Quick hands though.
"Are you okay, Bella?" There was silence from me as I felt my eyes shift out of focus and my jaw drop.
"T-t-the Mason..." It was Edward 'Stone Mason' Masen. The Australian international. The most feared fast bowler in the current game. "E-Edward..." I blustered, "Edward Masen."
"Who?" Alice looked at me with her eyebrows raised, but Angela was appropriately excited.
"You mean... he'll be... Oh!" She squeaked it all very fast, but I just shook my head.
"He can't be." I swallowed, "H-he's contracted in... B-but-" I glanced down at the list of statistics, and read the small article that came with his gorgeous image.
'Born in a small town in Australia, I never thought I'd get the opportunity to play internationally. With British parents, I've spent summers in England, the addiction to cricket fuelling my father's choice to allow me to go out and play for my local team. Though winning trophies at national level with the Bushrangers in Australia, and getting my first international call-up last year at the age of twenty-one have been great moments, ones I never wish to forget, I feel sometimes as though there is something else out there for me. The opportunity to play in such a young, up-and-coming squad such as Middlesex is one that I am not taking so lightly. It presents me with a chance to change my game and get experience outside of Australia, and to see whether I can catch the eye of the pretty young Londoners out there...
Edward Masen Joins Middlesex for the Early Twenty20 matches & Pro40 matches.'
I felt Angela leaning over my shoulder and heard her gasp as she reached the last line alongside me.
"Oh my god. You realise you have to go to every match now?" She hit me in the shoulder and I nearly dropped my coffee.
"What?" She nodded.
"Yeah, you do." I raised an eyebrow again, and she laughed, "Pretty young Londoners? Seriously, Bella, do you ever look at yourself?"
"I try not to, but..." She humphed at me and I rolled my eyes. "Angie, it's not like he'd give me a second look. I'm... just... plain Bella. I'm dull." I let out a laugh, "I'm not going to become a... Cricket Whore, groupie, whatever, just to get closer to Edward Masen. No matter how cool he is. No matter how awesome."
I nodded my head and attempted to make the girls before me believe the words that I didn't quite believe myself.
~#~
Three weeks. It took three, long, dry weeks, and the season was upon us. All the games had been put back a week because of the torrential rain the country had experienced, floods of rain making the pitch at Lord's unplayable, and making me go insane.
"I don't see why I had to come with you..." Alice sighed, teetering on her platform heels. Angela laughed and shook her head at her. "I mean... what are we doing here anyway? Watching eleven guys chase a big red ball around... haven't you ever seen Total Wipeout?"
Once again, I rolled my eyes and practically dragged my friends around to the Pavilion. I knew a couple of guys in there from doing work experience a couple of years ago, working in their PR section, and thankfully, I could pull strings to get a second guest signed into the member's area. The light was dim in the foyer, but it was cool, and I removed my hat, tucking it under my arm.
"Bella!" Mike, the bartender knew me by name by now, after eight seasons of living and working with them, and alongside them, "Saved you your usual seat!" I sighed and shook my head, "Not staying?"
"Going out into the stands, Mike," I smiled, "Gotta check out the new guys, see if they're any good."
"Straight," He grinned, "Still, coffee for the ladies?"
"Irish," Alice piped up, a hand on her hip. I nodded my assent and handed over the money for a couple of cappuccinos and her Irish, and smiled as I heard the bell toll at the five minutes mark.
"C'mon, we won't get a seat in the stands in time... sit out here-" I gestured through the long room and out the doors, and heard Alice's heels clicking behind me as I strode through the room, hoping that there would be enough time to grab seats before the players came down from the dressing room.
That was, until I banged into someone. Someone rather nice-smelling and dressed in white.
"Jesus!" I said without looking up, "Do you look where you're going?"
"Sorry!" His Australian twang was what made me stop, my neck cracking as I glanced up into his face. "Really, love, didn't mean to-"
"I-it's fine." I stumbled, "Sorry, Edward." I nodded, looking down, then stepping back so he could pass. He nodded at me, and stepped smartly past me, his green eyes simply burning through me as he strode out onto the pitch alongside Ben Cheney and Eric Yorkie. I somehow managed to stumble into my seat as Angela and Alice caught me under the elbows, and guided me comfortably into place.
I missed the first two overs in a daze, my eyes glittering as I stared down at the scorecard in my hands. Edward Masen. I sighed and looked up at the game, only to be distracted by the way his legs moved, as the movement of his body changed as he arced into his delivery stride and released the ball. My eyes stared at his arse as he shifted slightly and noticed his hair sticking up at every angle and glittering in the sunlight, almost gold, almost orange, but settling for a coppery bronze as I stared for longer. He stepped smartly back towards his mark and I looked down and away again, unwilling to see what had distracted me so in the first place.
Angela was indeed right – these boys sure can bowl a maiden over.
Concrit, Destruction and love are always welcome.
Until next time...
