The door is left ajar, and Ted starts to notice the ember glow through the crack. Warm and radiant, inviting and safe and space for him to make a home. The door is tough, heavy and the opening times are few and far between. When he watches the way you move in that room, he knows exactly where he wants to put down roots.
‘Soulmate is too soft a word for the string that tied my heart to yours’
CONTENT: Ted is the same character as the show, reader is an East London/just outside of London girly, also she is the founder of the Richmond Foundation, who is the charity that gives back to the community. Age gap, or not, completely up to you (I am writing with one but it isn’t the focus of the plot), Beard is still a strange little endearing man, Ted is our observant, sexy moustached lil stud. Not sure where I’m going with this, but I need to get it out of my brain. Hope you enjoy angel muffins.
If any readers from outside England need help deciphering the British culture, my door is open🔮
‘Do you really think the pink over the red?’ Higgins asked, flustered as ever walking towards the office with you.
‘Trust me, whatever your gut is telling you about your wife, pick the opposite.’
Higgins hummed with consideration.
‘Thank you for your help. Albeit mind blowing.’
‘Thank you for feeling like you can ask my opinion. I’m always here, friend.’
He blushed slightly, before patting your shoulder and half run/walking as Rebecca bellowed his name down the corridor.
You looked back to your phone, in a world of your own, almost falling as you went to push the door Ted was already holding open for you.
‘Good morning,’ you squeaked.
‘And very good it is.’ Ted tipped his cap, and you rolled your eyes smiling.
‘Oh yes, very good morning, you.’ Keeley piped up from her seat.
‘Yes Keeley, right you are indeed.’ Rebecca replied.
‘Whatever you two are doing, stop.’
‘And whatever you two are doing, please continue.’ Keeley snickered, as Rebecca held back her laughter too.
Keeley squealed, quickly tapping her heels on the floor, and gaining all composure when Ted walked back in the room.
He placed down a coffee your pink heart adorned mug, and casually walked off.
‘Right piss off, go do some work.’ You whispered to Keeley.
‘Lunchtime in my office, be there or be talked about.’ Rebecca kissed your cheek goodbye, and you cuddled Keeley.
‘Bye bitches,’ Keeley sassed.
Caffeinated and feeling productive, an email popped up in the bottom corner of your screen.
TED:
Can we schedule a meeting at 10:30am?
YOU:
Sure thing, Coach.
You gathered your notebook, post it and glasses. 10:29am, and Ted loved to spring a last minute brain storm on you.
‘Knock knock.’ You slowly opened the door.
‘Usually people knock first,’ Ted folded his arms, reclining slightly in his chair.
‘Well, I’m not people.’ You winked, straightening your dress and sitting on the sofa in his office.
Ted smiled.
‘No, and people would not be able to help me now like you can.’
You crossed your legs, leaning forward curiously.
‘If you’re asking for advice on how to win the next match, I’m just going to say get the ball in the net.’
Ted smacked the desk with his hands ‘Hell now why didn’t I think to tell them that before?’
You jumped, falling back into the sofa in fits of laughter.
‘You’re an idiot. Right before I accuse you of playing silly buggers on company time, how can I help?’
He beckoned you with his hand, with a secretive come here motion. You sighed, stood up and pretended to walk towards him unwillingly. You crouched down beside his chair, forearms rested on the desk. He pointed to a sticky note with the word ‘SATURDAY’ written on there on its own and underlined.
‘What’s happening Saturday?’
‘Team building, but that’s only for three hours so the rest is for you to decide.’
‘Coach Lasso, are you asking me to plan your Saturday or plan our Saturday?’
‘That’s what I was hoping you would help me with.’
You opened your mouth to say something, and Ted’s phone rang.
‘Sorry darlin’, gotta take this.’ He moved your hair off your shoulder, fingers brushing against your neck.
‘Go do your dad duties, it’s all good.
You stood up, Ted’s eyes burning into your back as you walked away.
‘Hey Michelle, what’s up?’ Ted asked.
You closed the door delicately, blew a kiss through the window as Ted caught it and held it to his heart.
Ted didn’t come out of his office for the rest of the day. You resisted the urge to text, asked Beard questions about work that Ted only had answers too.
5pm rolled around, and Ted had left at some point around lunchtime during your interrogation with Rebecca.
You slowly packed up, taking longer than usual in hope that Ted would turn up for you to say good bye.
Ted was in the press room with Beard, figuring out how to organise his thoughts.
‘Yesterday was nice.’ Beard declared.
Ted smoothed his moustache, his hand lingering across his mouth. Trying to smile through the stress.
‘It was.’
‘Her family are wonderful.
‘They are.’
‘You liked her.’
‘I already liked her.’
‘You looked at her like she was the last pancake.’
‘Not true, because then I would’ve looked at her sad and disappointed.’
Beard tilted his head in agreement.
You took the long way to the station. You knew you hadn’t upset Ted, but the empty space left in his absence shone such a light on how he elevated every part of your day, and your day was dull without that.
Walking on the Thames, your phone buzzed. A wave of excitement crashed, anticipating it would be Ted.
NANNY🐆🫖💕
Ted left chrgr here. Telk that lovely broad Americab he’s welcome every Sunday.
Your phone almost got launched into the river.
You bit the bullet and texted Ted.
YOU
Nan said you left your charger at hers. I’m there on Thursday night, can pick it up for you. You’re invited too, but completely up to you. See you tomorrow xx
‘Way too many words,’ you muttered to yourself as you pressed send.
The next morning was slow. The coffee didn’t taste as good when you had to make it yourself.
Ted felt the same.
The cold of the football pitch hit him. He’d rather be in the office with the smell of vanilla and sound of your laughter.
‘You okay, Coach?’ Beard asked.
‘Henry stuff. Rough day yesterday.’
Beard didn’t pry anymore.
The players warmed up, and training started.
The sound of you laughing grabbed Ted’s attention. He turned behind him and looked up in the stands.
You were stood with Rebecca and a man who Ted did not recognise.
You laughed again, both waving Rebecca off.
Ted hadn’t seen you shy, but if he were to put a name to your body language, shy would be it. It sparked something.
He watched as you nodded your head then pointed down to Ted, smiling softer and giving a little wave.
‘That’s just a sports writer.’ Beard said.
‘Yeah I know.’
‘You look concerned.’
‘I’m just being nosey.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Good morning.’ Ted called to you from up the stairs.
‘It’s 4:27.’
‘I know but I didn’t get to say it this morning.’
‘All okay?’
‘Yes it’ll be fine. Thanks for asking. You okay ,darlin’?
‘I’m good,’ you held up a stack of papers, ‘Busy.’
‘Oh so your giggling had a purpose.’
You raised an eyebrow and folded your arms.
‘Go on…’ you waited for Ted to dig himself out of that one.
He shook his head.
‘I was laughing. And team building is all sorted. So you’re welcome.’
‘And what are we doing after that?’
‘Oh you want there to be an after that?’ You pushed.
‘Heck yeah. Let me know your final thoughts on Thursday.’
‘Thursday?’
‘Yeah, when I drive us back home from your Nan’s.’
‘So you did see my text?’
He pointed a finger at you, ‘It’s a date and as always, I’ll call you tonight.’
The door is left ajar, and Ted starts to notice the ember glow through the crack. Warm and radiant, inviting and safe and space for
him to make a home. The door is tough, heavy and the opening times are few and far between. When he watches the way you move in that room, he knows exactly where he wants to put down roots.
‘Soulmate is too soft a word for the string that tied my heart to yours’
CONTENT: Ted is the same character as the show, reader is an East London/just outside of London girly, also she is the founder of the Richmond Foundation, who is the charity that gives back to the community. Age gap, or not, completely up to you (I am writing with one but it isn’t the focus of the plot), Beard is still a strange little endearing man, Ted is our observant, sexy moustached lil stud. Not sure where I’m going with this, but I need to get it out of my brain. Hope you enjoy angel muffins.
If any readers from outside England need help deciphering the British culture, my door is open🔮
Saturdays were always better when you were not rushing. They consisted of actually finishing a cup of tea, and leaving the house with your bed made and the sink empty.
Best of all was the ritual of getting ready in your dressing room, taking the time to make sure your eyebrows were actually even rather than ‘that’ll do.’
Spring was officially springing, which meant sunglasses paired with a slightly smaller over-sized coat. Daffodils were blooming, and the crisp air carried birdsong throughout the flat.
You headed to your car, good luck playlist on and opened your phone, a slightly unsure look upon your face as you opened your messages and opened Ted’s name.
YOU:
Hope you’re having a good morning, Coach. Good luck today. Just on my way to meet Keeley☕️x
Sent.
You shrieked into your steering wheel.
‘Jesus you’re such a lemon’ you thought.
You felt embarrassed. Scared of feeling like you were crossing a line, and even more scared of rejection, even though you weren’t sure what was being rejected.
‘Ah fuck it.’ you sighed. Phone on silent, soft top down on your car and music up.
You parked at Keeley’s, and waited for her to come out before you walked round to the stadium.
‘You look bloody beautiful.’ She shouted from her bedroom window.
‘Get down here, it’s colder than it looks,’ you shouted back, cackling at each other.
You passed the time wandering around Richmond and spending money in boutique stores on summer clothes that wouldn’t get a look in until at least 5 months in the future. You got to your seats, checked your phone slyly away from Keeley’s wandering sapphire eyes.
TED:
Thank you kindly. Have fun, be good🥂
You smiled despite yourself. It was ridiculous how one tiny message could make you feel simultaneously giddy, nervous and inexplicably lighter.
Keeley looked at you like you’d grown a third head.
‘What’s got my man-hater all man-loving?’
‘Who said it’s a man? Could just be my mum cracking a joke?’ You said sarcastically.
‘Right. Could just be, except it isn’t just that is it.’
The whistle blew.
‘Right, eyes forward or do I have to explain to your ferocious hairy boyfriend why you missed him playing?’
She kissed your cheek.
‘As long as you’re happy.’ She cuddled into you.
Half time was over and the players were back out on the field with the coaches. You watched intently, still not bored of how happy everyone was while they were playing.
Richmond were awarded a penalty, silence fell across the fans, and you and Keeley, shrieked ‘GO RICHMOND!’
‘Well if it isn’t Richmond’s very own banshees,’ Beard flatly declared, slowly turning at you both.
Ted glanced towards the owners’ seats, spotted you amongst the crowd and broke into a grin before lifting a hand in a small wave.
You waved back, timidly.
‘Oh my fucking god.’ Keeley gasped, gushing as she put the pieces together.
Rebecca chuckled knowingly, excited for the debrief on Monday morning.
‘Shut up the pair of you.’ You winked, reaching behind for Rebecca’s hand.
Following a well deserved win, you were all in high spirits.
‘I’m just gonna pop and see Roy, let him know I’ll meet him at home.’
‘Sure babes, I’m just gonna pop to the loo. See you in 10.’
‘Well if it isn’t my good luck charm!’ Ted walked down the hall with his arms open.
You hugged him back.
‘Congratulations! See what happens when I decide to be spontaneous.’
‘Spontaneity suits you.’
‘My nan text me.’
‘Hey, Miss Sharon?’
‘Yes Sharon indeed. How do you and Beard like the sound of a celebratory Roast dinner tomorrow?’
Ted looked across at Beard.
‘We would love nothing more.’
‘Perfect. I’ll text you the details.’
‘I’ll call you tonight.’
‘Well done again, Coach. Very well earned.’
You nodded, smiled, and caught up with Keeley who was waiting at the other end of the hall.
The last thing Ted caught before you disappeared round the corner was your laugh.
He watched, hands in his pockets, whilst you messed around with Keeley like a couple of teenagers.
‘Nice score, Coach.’
‘Beard, wear something pretty. We’ve got dinner tomorrow. Does it count as dinner if it’s at 2pm?’
Beard pondered, ‘No sir. I already have dinner plans and they’re at 6:30.’
‘I’ll let her know you can’t make it then?’
‘No sir. I’ll be there.’
‘You’re a spectacular man, Beard.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh. Sure.’
Ted was in the kitchen, watching the coffee drip from the machine into his Richmond mug, before the alarm even got the chance to wake him up.
His phone chimed, and he opened it onto your thread. He let out a soft breath and smiled.
BEARD:
You awake yet?
TED:
47 minutes and counting
BEARD:
Nerves mean you care. I will see you at 11am
‘Alrighty then. Pancake Sunday.’
He opened the fridge, no milk. Or eggs.
‘Alright then. Sunday.’
TED:
Know a recipe for pancakes without milk or eggs?
YOU:
Sure… do you like flour in a pan?
TED:
I don’t think so.
YOU:
Just skip breakfast and you can just get to my nan’s early for a little brunch situation.
TED.
Don’t need to ask me or Beard twice. That buddy’s batting a thousand where meals are concerned today.
YOU:
Jesus.
Ted called Beard to let him know the change of plan.
30 minutes, a shower, another cup of coffee and a close outfit conundrum later, and Ted was considerably more nervous than before.
Pacing to the hallway for his shoes, he almost slipped suddenly remembering the bottle of wine and flowers.
3 sharp knocks at the door.
Opening the door to a vision in autumnal colours and a flat cap.
Beard stared Ted in the eyes, before casually dropping his gaze to the gifts in his hand.
Ted scoffed.
‘You are aggressively psychedelic.’
‘It’s only paisley. It’s tasteful.’
‘Sure. Taste. Or lack thereof.’
‘I will haunt you in the next lifetime, probably wearing this shirt.’
‘I commend the self-assurance.’
Beard clapped and rubbed his hands together, ‘Brunch time, baby.’
Ted looked down at the flowers in his hand, then back at Beard.
‘You know, most people get nervous meeting someone’s family.’
‘Oh nervous shmervous,’ Beard offered. ‘You have flowers and I have fashion.’
‘You know what? That helped less than you thought. Thanks.’
3 sharp knocks. In true Beard fashion.
‘You knock like you’re delivering bad news.’
‘It’s assertive.’
‘It’s grandparents. How assertive do you need to be?’
Beard nodded understandingly. Ted felt the nerves wrap in his chest.
‘Oh bloody hell, Ted, Coach. Come in, you’ll be freezing your knackers off I should think.’
You appeared behind your nan, out of breath. You were stunned at her boldness, trying not to focus on the subject of that sentence.
‘I tried to beat her to the door, she’s a spritely old bird.’
Your Nan swatted you on the arm.
‘These are for you, thank you for having us.’
Your nan wrapped an arm round the men either side of her, Ted blushing like his first day of school, and Beard’s mind already racing at the fascinating architecture of the Victorian Era home,
‘You must both be starving. Got a few bits for brunch. Don’t go mad though, Ray’s doing pork.’
‘Yes ma’am.’ The pair said in unison. Your nan scatted past you, hooting and hollering with excitement.
‘If you want to turn around, you have full permission.’
They looked at each other, and slipped their shoes off and hung their coats up.
You clapped your hands together with pleasure.
You took the flower and wine off Ted, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you had your hands full.
‘Now don’t you look dapper Mr Beard. I respect a man who is comfortable in his wardrobe.’
You winked at Ted.
‘Come through, please. But brace yourself.’
Your nan’s house was cosy. The smell of lit candles filled the room along with fresh coffee, fruit and pastries.
‘Now shall I call you Nan, or is Sharon okay?’
‘Well I’m not calling you Coach am I, Ted?’
‘True. In that case, this looks beautiful. Sharon?’
‘That’s right.’
Your grandad walked in from the garden, extending a hand to Ted and Beard.
‘Nice to meet you, Ted. I’ve heard good things.’ Ted smiled appreciatively.
Beard’s turn.
‘Pleasure, good sir.’
Your mum almost spat her tea everywhere, but composed herself.
You shot her daggers.
‘Come on, I’ll show you the garden we just had finished.’ Your grandad gestured to Beard. ‘Brick’s just set, immovable. Mark my words.’
You were dumbfounded, and Ted was speechless for once.
Your nan and Mum started firing the small talk questions. Employment, America, you. You prepared for the wine to spill and the embarrassing stories to spill simultaneously.
You curled up on the end of the sofa, legs tucked underneath you and cup of tea in hand. Tapping the seat next to you, you gestured for Ted to come and sit next to you. He walked over with your nan from the wall of pictures, struck by the vision of that picture of you all on your laptop screen. It was the same setting, and you looked even more radiant in person.
Two figures were swaying outside, and the four of you turned in unison, slowly walking to the French doors like a wildlife photographer to a gazelle- just not as graceful.
Beard was hopping like a mountain goat on to your grandad’s new brick wall.
‘He has a thing for structural soundness.’
‘I can see that,’ your mum chimed in, tilting her head.
‘You do this often? Your grandad asked.
‘Only when necessary.’ Beard prompted.
‘You seem limber.’ Your grandad noted.
‘Ah my doctor prescribed me something for the sciatica.’
‘I get that too.’
‘Tai- chi.’ They harmonised, and suddenly you felt like a female bird watching these fruit loops show the most effective way to release their ailments.
‘It’s all in the breathing.’ Your grandad said, as you parted to let them in.
‘Obviously.’ Beard high-fived your grandad
‘Okay. Well. As long as we add orange juice, I think we may open the prosecco.’ You inhaled, really unsure of where to take the conversation after that performance.
Fortunately, with the first day jitters out the way, the rest of the afternoon felt comfortable. Ted kept offering help in the kitchen, and then you got asked to fulfil that same offer because when your nan said she didn’t need help, she really did but just not from Ted. That’d be rude.
‘Dinner’s going to be 15 minutes.’ your mum shouted through.
‘That’s my cue,’ you put your hand next to Ted’s lap to push you up, ready to set the table.
‘Where’s the bathroom?’
‘Upstairs, and round the bend. Call me if you get lost.’ You laughed to Ted.
‘Where on earth is he?’ Your nan asked.
‘I’ll go check.’ You picked up your glass of red wine and headed upstairs to make sure Ted was okay.
A solid oak door with a raggedy bit of paper stuck to it was half open. You cringed, wondering what curiosities you’d have to explain to Ted.
‘Just like leopard print was going out of fashion, right?’
‘Hey, I was 14 and lost my way. But mark my words, leopard print will never go out of fashion.’
Ted laughed with you. You were stood with Ted in your childhood bedroom.
He pointed to a picture of a chunky toddler with extreme bunches who was basically drag racing a pushchair.
‘See, I knew you’d always been this cute.’
You pushed him lightly, setting your wine glass down on the daisy shaped nightstand.
You passed a photo album to Ted.
‘I get it from Ray, obviously.’
‘You’ve got some good folks. Must have been so much fun growing up here.’
‘Yeah, it was safe. My dad was a real piece of work, so we left when I was like 2, came here and never left.’
Your cheeks burned, tracing with your thumb a photo of your grandad and you as a baby. Ted looked up at you, stood in front of him, and shuffled to stand back up when he saw your eyes go glassy.
‘Hey, and you both made it. What a life to turn it all around and know this type of love that you have.’ Ted put an arm round the back of your shoulder, pulled you into his side and placed a kiss to the top of your head.
‘God I’m blaming the merlot on the tears.’
‘Nope. You’re just human. We all have to let it out sometime.’
You smiled at him, squeezing his hand.
‘Come on, or my grandad will be stealing both of our potatoes.’
You led Ted out, still holding his hand and he rubbed his thumb over your wrist, before letting go.
‘If I could click my fingers and have this dinner, every day for the rest of my life, I would.’
‘Nan you have truly outdone yourself.’
‘It’s nice to be appreciated. Next time, bring the whole team.’
‘I absolutely won’t, but we can plan some sort of schedule. One player a weekend until the end of the year.’
Everyone laughed, sparking all different plans and ideas to keep the house as warm and full as it always has been.
You tucked your leg up underneath you, brushing Ted’s leg accidentally. He looked at you, smiling comfortably. You looked at him, a couple of seconds longer than usual, and noticed the way the orange sunset reflected in his hazel eyes.
‘Ah the end of the year. Christmas will be great this year. Ted, Beard, I hope you like charades.’
‘No one likes charades Nan.’
You looked at Ted again, shaking your head subtly as if to say you do not have to entertain this.
‘If that was an invite to Christmas, I wholeheartedly accept.’ Ted nodded.
‘Yes ma’am. Permission for a plus one?’
‘Bring a plus 20 for all I card. The more the merrier.’
She held up her almost overflowing glass of Prosecco and proposed a cheers.
‘Kitchen’s done for you, Nan.’
You walked back into the living room, Ted patting the seat next to him. Your nan and grandad were squished on the arm chair, your mum taking up the two person sofa, Beard cross-legged on the rug by the coffee table.
‘Glad to see your comfortable, Beard.’
He nodded.
‘Jane’s here. Dinner reservations.’
You all turned to look at Beard.
‘You’ve eaten enough for a small village and you still have dinner plans?’
‘I shan’t let my lady down.’
‘Tell her she’s invited next time, Beard.’
‘I’ll walk you out.’
Beard said his goodbyes, and you headed to the door. Beard turned and gave you a hug.
‘Thank you, so much.’
‘You’re always welcome. So is Jane. And you don’t ever have to hug me again by the way.’
‘I shall not. Unless I am extremely thankful.’
‘Noted. Have a good time tonight. See you in the morning.’
You checked the time, conscious of the early morning you had tomorrow.
Instead, you sat on the sofa and ignored the responsibilities for tomorrow.
Luckily, Ted instigated the goodbye so you didn’t have to.
‘We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, I may have to think about heading back.’
‘Yeah I’m with you on that, I’m going to end up falling asleep on the train.’
‘Ah poppet, one of us would drive you but we’re pissed as anything.’
‘Standard. It’s fine, thank you anyway.’
You kissed everyone goodbye, and headed to the door with Ted.
‘I can drive you home.’ He said, quietly so no one heard to make a fuss.
‘Are you sure? That’d be lovely.’
‘I’m sure. Come on.’
You walked down the driveway, nipped by the drop in temperature.
Ted opened the passenger door for you.
‘Always a gentleman.’
He chuckled, shaking his head, walking round the front of the car to the driver’s seat.
You watched every step intently, before looking up at your nan and grandad’s house and seeing the trio scarper away from the net curtains in the kitchen window.
‘Thanks for letting me be part of that. I’d like to borrow your family more often.’
You beamed.
‘Anytime. You are always welcome to take them off my hands.’
He laughed. Turning the heating up a little bit and moving the air vent to face you.
‘I’ll remember that.’
The streetlights glowed, the silhouette of Ted’s face soft in the light. You both took it in turns to glance at each other, with care that the other didn’t see.
‘This is me.’ You said, not moving to get out of the car.
Ted looked up at your apartment, fairy lights wrapped around the balustrades of the balcony and a warm amber glow from the bedroom window.
He sat, hand rested on the gear stick. You looked down, then up at him. Ted was already looking at you.
‘Thank you for being there today, Ted.’
‘Well, I should be thanking you. Pretty sure I just experienced the world’s most emotionally supportive Sunday roast.’
You laughed, softly.
‘Don’t forget to pick up some milk.’
‘You just saved me from an incredibly disappointing Monday morning.’
‘Goodnight, Coach.’
You placed your hand on his, and in the split second of him realising what you were doing, he looked. The way your hands were slightly pink from the cold, the red nails that were perfectly manicured, and how your whole hand was only slightly bigger than his palm. He stopped breathing for a second, wondering how many Sundays it would take before this felt normal.
The door is left ajar, and Ted starts to notice the ember glow through the crack. Warm and radiant, inviting and safe and space for him to make a home. The door is tough, heavy and the opening times are few and far between. When he watches the way you move in that room, he knows exactly where he wants to put down roots.
‘Soulmate is too soft a word for the string that tied my heart to yours’
CONTENT: Ted is the same character as the show, reader is an East London/just outside of London girly, also she is the founder of the Richmond Foundation, who is the charity that gives back to the community. Age gap, or not, completely up to you (I am writing with one but it isn’t the focus of the plot), Beard is still a strange little endearing man, Ted is our observant, sexy moustached lil stud. Not sure where I’m going with this, but I need to get it out of my brain. Hope you enjoy angel muffins.
If any readers from outside England need help deciphering the British culture, my door is open🔮
After beating your way through rush hour, you finally made it home. Your mum had been round your place during the day to let the boiler repair man in.
You walked through the door, the smell of the slow cooker filling every corner. Your bed made with your 20 year old cat teddy propped up on the pillows, and the flat hoovered and serene.
You sighed with relief.
18:28 YOU:
Thanks, Mumma xxx
18:28 YOU:
Thanks for today, Coach. X
You turned your phone screen down, and just spent the evening in the peace of your own company, feeling hopeful that Tuesday would indeed be kinder to you.
Tuesday felt better already. You walked to the office and it was cold, but the second the sun hit your face, you felt warm.
You looked up, Ted was in his office with the door shut. You couldn’t blame him as the casual shouting and swearing at each other was in full swing before it was even 9:30am.
Creeping over, you filled your water bottle up at the cooler underneath the window of Ted’s office. He opened the door presuming you were going to come in, and kept it open as he sat back down at his desk.
He was on Facetime to Henry, and you heard them talking about Henry making it onto the sports team.
‘Now is that soccer football or shoulder pads football?’ Ted asked.
‘Shoulder pads, Dad. Jake loves it.’ Henry confirmed, sounding proud and excited.
Ted smiled, but it caught halfway before he swallowed.
“Jake’s gonna help me practice, Dad.”
‘There it is buddy. Tell your mum and Jake I appreciate them.’
‘Yeah, Love you Dad.’
‘Love you, Bud.’
You closed the door when you walked past, in order to let Ted have some privacy.
Lunchtime rolled round.
You were lingering in the carpark, half waiting to catch up with Ted, and half resisting the urge to have a bottle of cava with Keeley and a drunk cig before 3pm.
Fortunately, Ted came out of the doors.
Your phone buzzed.
It was a text from Roy.
You have an hour exactly before your gaggle of vertically challenged 5 year olds arrive.
Ted noticed the smile lingering after you’d slipped your phone into your back pocket, and wondered who’d put it there.
‘Hey.’ You smiled.
‘Well, hey,’ Ted greeted you back, not quite smiling, ‘Mondayest Tuesday ever. Still not used to seeing Henry from thousands of miles away.
‘I get it. Family life is so fricken hard My mum’s still gets sad over my dad, and he was a piece of shit. So imagine when you have two parents and a bonus parent, trying their best.’
You shrugged it off, but you made it so clear to Ted. You were right, they’re trying their best. And Henry was at the heart of it all.
‘Fancy a wander?’ You asked.
Ted nodded, instinctively holding his arm out.
You looked at it for a second, and looped yours through.
‘Well thank you kindly.’
You strolled through the town, trying not to stumble on the cobbles in your new heels.
‘Oh my fucking god, Ted. Take a look.’
A chalkboard sign outside a new wine bar read ‘Karaoke Thursdays.’
‘We have to do a team building. I need to hear Beard belt out Phil Collins at least once in my lifetime.’
Ted laughed, from the stomach, loud with no care for who heard. Not because the thought of Beard singing Genesis was particularly funny- no, he had been there done that.
But because images of you, Keeley and Rebecca getting wine drunk and stumbling on stage to Spice Girls added another ‘must see’ to his to do list, and the thought of Nate secretly being a pro at 90s R&B was mind blowing but not completely unfathomable.
‘I’m not joking, I will not be able to stop thinking about that place until we have conquered it.’
You carried on wandering with Ted about the dogs and their winter coats, or trying not to cry at the baby ducklings shielded by their mothers across the river.
You managed to find the hilarity in everything, and Ted felt lighter than he had in weeks.
‘Oops sorry Ted, gotta take this.’
‘Hey Nanny, how you doing, doll?’ You squealed, music to Ted’s ears.
‘Yes yes love, all good here. Yeah Mummy tell you about yesterday? Frigging nightmare. Yeah the flat’s all fine, just had a little shutdown’
You smiled, looked at Ted and grinned even wider.
‘No not right now. Yes, I am. We’re just out at lunch. He’s okay, yes thank you. Alright then Nanny, will do you that Roast this Sunday. Tell Grandad to bring his third best red. Yep, Mummy’s coming too. Okay, okay, ta ra. Love you so much more.’
Ted smiled at you. Eyes searching for where to even process that.
‘Sorry, my Nan. She’s certainly something.’
‘She sounds glorious. She sure makes you brighter than a beacon.’
‘Yeah for sure. You know them people that just bring light everywhere they go?’
‘Oh I do indeed.’
You looked up at him, winter sun setting slowly down behind his shoulder, and lighting up your eyes a honey shade of hazel.
You smirked, blushing too, but tried to move swiftly on.
‘’Pray for me. Sunday roast with the grandparents this weekend.’
‘Not sure yet, game on Saturday but that’s about it.’
‘Ahh yes, need me to show up and do anything?’
‘No, enjoy your weekend to yourself, you’ve worked extra hard lately. Deserve a break.’
You put your hand on his forearm, and squeezed gently.
‘Anyhoo, shall we make tracks? Looks like it’s about to piss down and I have this bloody tour.’
‘Let’s go sideways.’
‘Okay, well who wants to meet the players?’ You cheered along with the children.
You lead them out with Ted and Rebecca at the back.
‘She’s a natural, ain’t she.’ Ted spoke soft to Rebecca.
‘Oh, very much so. Never seen someone just take it all as it comes.’
‘Them kids are fascinated by her.’
‘I’m not sure it’s just the kids,’ Rebecca assured.
Ted thought about that for a second. ‘Hmm. Well.’
‘Am I right in thinking you’re to thank for this?’
‘Ah not at all. I should be thanking you and your lovely class. It’s been a pleasure having them here.’
You shook his hand, kneeled down with the children.
‘Now, before we go, who has any questions?’
They all sheepishly looked at each-other, before boldly raising their tiny paint stained hands.
‘Well no time to wait, let’s go see the team. Follow me.’
You guided them into the press room where a handful of players were sat behind the mics and the children sat in the reporters seats.
Questions ranged from ‘Can I play for Richmond?’ all the way too ‘That man (referencing Isaac) is scary.’ , to which he replied with thanks.
The excitement grew, slightly out of control, so you wrapped up interrogation time and walked the school out to their coach.
Tired but rewarded, you filled a to-go cup with tea for your journey home.
Just as usual, you loitered round the office. Asking Higgins about the boys and his wife, swapping outfit inspiration with Keeley, and having the best hug from Rebecca when she tells you ‘I just want to roll you in my pocket.’
‘Hey Ted,’ you announced yourself, knocking on the already open door of Ted’s office, ‘I’m off, need anything?’
‘No, you go get yourself home safe.’
‘Thanks Ted. Appreciate ya.’
‘Yeah, you too.’
Streetlights glowed amber, though the sun was resisting sleep. You were long into your train journey, and Ted was deep into his evening.
He sat on the cream sofa, blinds open so he could watch the city go by. He was comforted by dim lamplight, beyond tired and on the brink of exhaustion.
‘Trying their best,’ your voice echoed through his brain.
He took a deep breath, mindlessly watching a reality show he remembers you smacked Roy for almost ruining.
He huffed. Not enough to laugh out loud, but warranted more than a smile.
‘Look, your best will be enough for the right person,’ some blonde 5’8 model whispered as she consoled her friend in a barely there bikini.
‘Well, ain’t that profound knowledge.’ He switched the TV off, before heading to shower and settle down for the evening
He checked his phone, the message you had sent was still not responded to.
He typed:
‘Hey’
Then deleted it, locking his phone, and throwing it gently to the other side of his sofa.
A split second later he strained his back to reach for it. He unlocked it, typed again. But he was still lost for words.
Meanwhile, on the train, you opened your phone whilst listening to a song on repeat.
No reply from Ted. You still smiled warmly, because aside from no reply, Ted somehow made nothing feel like something.
The door is left ajar, and Ted starts to notice the ember glow through the crack. Warm and radiant, inviting and safe and space for
him to make a home. The door is tough, heavy and the opening times are few and far between. When he watches the way you move in that room, he knows exactly where he wants to put down roots.
‘Soulmate is too soft a word for the string that tied my heart to yours’
CONTENT: Ted is the same character as the show, reader is an East London/just outside of London girly, also she is the founder of the Richmond Foundation, who is the charity that gives back to the community. Age gap, or not, completely up to you (I am writing with one but it isn’t the focus of the plot), Beard is still a strange little endearing man, Ted is our observant, sexy moustached lil stud. Not sure where I’m going with this, but I need to get it out of my brain. Hope you enjoy angel muffins.
If any readers from outside England need help deciphering the British culture, my door is open🔮
A cold sweat washed over you as you jumped out of bed in a panic. You knew it was Monday, but considering the sun didn’t rise until gone 7:30am, you had no way of telling how early or borderline late you were.
You sprinted like a Looney Tunes character to boil the kettle and put a bagel in the toaster, before stripping bare while running frantically to the shower. You twisted the shower handle, expecting a loving caress of steamy water, but you were instead met by a downpour of cold water that seemed like it’d been holding a grudge.
You jumped back, hitting your elbows on the tile behind you. Your cheeks burned, tears threatening to spill. With gritted teeth, determined to beat the shower, you lathered and rinsed in the same shiver, beating your personal best.
Shivering, you layered yourself in skincare and body lotion and wrapped yourself up in your dressing gown. In all the chaos, you hadn’t even questioned why your alarm didn’t go off. The digital clock on your oven was flashing, indicating it had been cut off from the power at some point.
‘Fuck my life.’ You audibly groaned.
Phone battery dead, rain still falling sideways, you sat on the edge of your bed contemplating life. If you were late, you might as well be extremely late.
Girl logic.
You spent half an hour intricately painting on your makeup, surprised at how the curls falling out of your updo, elevated the structure of your face, and you actually looked half decent, you modestly thought.
You slipped on some black skinny jeans, black heeled boats and a cream blazer over a black long sleeved top.
With your hand on the front door handle, you saw Ted’s scarf hanging on the coat hook, waiting to be returned after forgetting as you tried to escape the rain on Saturday evening.
You smiled, deciding to spray your perfume and accidentally-on-purpose caught Ted’s scarf in the mist. Folding it neatly, you tucked it into your bag and headed off.
The train pulled into Richmond, relieved you were only an hour late.
It so could have been worse, you thought, but again, it could have been so much better.
You stumbled in the office, losing your footing over a loose bit of carpet. Trying to hold back the tears, you put your Airpods back in and sat at your desk, with your head in your hands.
Beard walked past, annoyingly extra observant and chatty.
‘Your hair looks nice.’
What planet had you been dropped onto?
Roy followed, ‘Fucking carpet,’ walking past your desk. ‘Your hair suits you like that.’
You wanted to slap each and every person that dared to comment on your hair.
Then the moment you had been waiting for, but not yet prepared for.
Ted sauntered past your desk from behind, whistling a tune. He stopped in his tracks, your face screwed up tight.
‘Well hey now don’t you look prettier than a sunflower in Summer.’
You stood up, and darted out the office.
Ted looked concerned, and worried. His body pulled, but he turned back the opposite way to his desk.
He pressed his lips together, and slowly walked back to the office, met by Roy and Beard.
‘Was that me?’ Ted asked.
‘Nope.’ Beard responded sharply.
‘Okay cause I feel like that coulda been me.’
‘No.’ Roy chimed in.
‘You sure?’
‘Fucking ‘ell Ted. Yes. It’s the hair. The hair reads, bad morning.’ Roy snapped.
‘The hair reads like palms to a psychic.’
Ted was confused. But let it sit.
‘And then they said my hair looks nice.’ You sobbed.
Rebecca looked like she had seen a ghost. Keeley sat on the sofa stirring her tea, eyebrows raised like she was about to get told off.
‘Do they not understand when a bird has their hair so extremely different from usual it’s the sign of a crisis?’
Keeley cackled, but you just sobbed even harder.
‘Aw come ‘ere babe. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, you just make us smile.’
‘Come on darling. Whatever it was, we can work it out.’ Rebecca came and sat on the other side of you, so you were sandwiched in between the two gorgeous blondes that you called sisters.
‘I woke up late.’
Keeley gasped, ‘Wow that is not like you.’
You wiped a tear away. ‘My boiler packed in and the touch of hot water feels a distant memory. And the leccy cut out.’
‘Missy, let me tell you. We may have laughed, but that sort of morning warrants a way bigger meltdown.’
You looked down, tears still falling, but slowly feeling lighter as you just needed to vent.
You saw Ted walk past in your peripheral, he stuck his head back but carried on, making a mental note of what to do for you.
You all had a girly lunch together in Rebecca’s office, with the reassurance of ‘emails will still be there when you get back, no matter how long you’re here.’
‘Thank you my girls for the pick me up. Fiver each if I cry again today.’
‘Ooh Becks what you gonna buy with your fiver?’ Keely nudged you.
You flipped them off and strutted out the office, feeling more like yourself by the minute.
Like magic, it was somehow 2pm. You got back to your desk, greeted by a mug of coffee, a diet Coke and a bottle of ice cold water, with a pink post it note.
Thought we oughta cover all the bases.
You looked up from your desk, smiling cheesily as you met Ted’s eyes from a few yards over. You held up the mug of coffee as if to toast to him.
He was standing, on the phone, and struggling to listen and pull together a sentence while he watched as the light returned to your eyes.
You read his lips, ‘I’ll call later.’
He hung the phone up, not once breaking away from looking at you.
He came over, ‘Penny for your thoughts?’
‘I’ll sell them for a pound.’
He laughed, pulling up a chair from the desk behind.
You turned to face him, knees millimetres away from touching, and he leaned in, ready to listen intently.
‘I’m here all day.’
‘Except for in five minutes time when we’re gone for half hour in a meeting.’
‘Shoot. You got notes for me for that?’
‘Sorry Coach, if you let me know where in my job description it says PA to Ted, then I’ll rustle some up.’
‘Darn it.’
You spun on your chair to your desk, and as you turned full circle back to Ted, you handed over Ted a pink sparkly notebook.
‘Everything that is being covered. Thank me later, Coach.’
‘Oh boy, last time I thought that far in advance was three weeks ago when I knew about this meeting but planned that you’d have my back.’
‘Get lost, before I change my mind.’
3:27pm. A few more minutes before you could take an hour to slowly pack up your stuff and move closer and closer to the exit.
Ted was about to walk out the meeting room when it came to a close, you panicked.
‘Hey, Ted.’
‘Yes, my dear. All ears here.’
‘Please stop rhyming.’
‘Yes ma’am.’
‘I’m no longer feeling the inclination to apologise. Who knew rhyming was so not it?’ You teased.
Ted rolled his eyes and smiled.
‘I’m sorry for disappearing earlier.’
‘You don’t need to apologise. Just know I’m here if you ever need anything.’
‘Don’t make me cry again.’
‘Again! I knew I made you cry the first time.’
You pushed his chest playfully. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
‘You could never make me cry. I know where you work, you wouldn’t dare.’
‘Sure, whatever you say. Anyway, a problem shared is a problem halved.’
You began to explain the morning, and your sensitivity. And asked, do you actually really like my hair?
Ted whistled. ‘Yes ma’am. You look phenomenal as always. But I guess that doesn’t soften the blow of a whole lotta Monday.’
You blushed, still unable to take a compliment from him.
‘I’m glad I still got to see you today.’
He spoke softly, unsure whether to dip his toe into that territory.
You looked at him. Frowning slightly, though you were just reading his expression. Your shoulders relaxed, and you ran your tongue over your bottom lip. You counted to five in your head, trying to ground yourself gently.
‘Me too.’
He held the door open for you, and you headed off.
‘I hope you get the rest of the day that you deserve.’ He stood with his hand in his pockets.
A tear dropped down your cheek. You took a step closer and he opened his arms, welcoming you in. You held round his waist, conscious to not get makeup on his cream jumper. He ran his hand down from the back of your neck to halfway down your back, before gently squeezing you in.
You sighed, then let go.
‘How are you, anyway?’
He snorted. Shaking his head.
‘Don’t you worry a second about me.’
‘Oh shit. This is for you.’
You pulled away quickly, before Ted got the chance to melt into you.
You handed his scarf, a cloud of sweet perfume enchanting it.
‘Ah you didn’t have to. I have 8 of these.’
‘Not me thinking it was sacred.’
‘Hey now, just cause I have 8, doesn’t mean I treat all of them with care.’
You rolled your eyes, and half smiled, half blushed.
‘See you tomorrow, Ted. Be kind to yourself too, just like you are to everyone else.’
He stood for a second longer than he meant to, watching you disappear into the rain.
He turned on his heel, walking the opposite way.
He kept turning behind, sure you were behind him, unsure why you weren’t when he could still smell you. He lifted his jumper to his nose, not that. ‘Hmm.’ He carried on walking.
He stood by the exit, slid his coat on, and unfurled the scarf and placed it round his neck. There it was again. He smiled, ‘Well, I’ll be.’
Roy appeared on the other side of the glass insert of the door.
Ted jumped, before pulling the door open towards him.
‘You’re fucked.’ Roy said.
‘You’re telling me.’
In true Coach Beard fashion, he materialised next to Roy.
‘There’s 9.’ He swallowed then cleared his throat, as if preparing to read scripture.
Roy turned his head to him like a clockwork owl. Ted folded his arms, ready for the next nonsensical thing to follow.
‘9 stages of falling. And you, good sir, are on 5.’
Roy chimed in. ‘The good news is, she’s on 4.’
‘I’m out of here.’
Ted parted them by the sides of their face, and walked through the middle of them.
Roy turned and watched like a bouncer waiting for trouble, and Coach Beard nodded approvingly.
Ted walked home, peaceful, and wondering if you would be able to enjoy a hot bath tonight.
Reader who has a real job and actual bills. Reader who prioritizes her own peace over his feelings. Reader who has hobbies that don’t revolve around a man. Reader who actually has a life outside of him. Reader who says “no” and means it. Reader who isn't easily impressed. Reader who’s petty. Reader who has trust issues. Reader who chooses her girls every single time. Reader who has a body count and isn't ashamed of it. Reader who is exhausted by male fragility. Reader who holds grudges. Reader who’s a mess. Reader who’s mentally ill. Reader who makes mistakes. Reader who’s manipulative. Reader who’s selfish. Reader who’s morally gray. Reader who’s awful. Reader who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck.
I love that Ted Lasso s4 is stoking the flames of the fandom's creative fire! And we're only two days away from actually watching it! When the story you're writing makes *you* happy, that's always worth sticking with, because first and foremost you're writing for yourself and it's an added bonus when a wider audience enjoys it. Inspiration doesn't always come, so when it does? As Ted himself would say, trust your gut and follow your heart x
Oh you are so kind. This is the loveliest thing I have read in months.
Thank you for taking the time to send me this message. I hope you have the most wonderful day, and roll on the 5th🫶🏼❤️❤️❤️
The door is left ajar, and Ted starts to notice the ember glow through the crack. Warm and radiant, inviting and safe and space for
him to make a home. The door is tough, heavy and the opening times are few and far between. When he watches the way you move in that room, he knows exactly where he wants to put down roots.
‘Soulmate is too soft a word for the string that tied my heart to yours’
CONTENT: Ted is the same character as the show, reader is an East London/just outside of London girly, also she is the founder of the Richmond Foundation, who is the charity that gives back to the community. Age gap, or not, completely up to you (I am writing with one but it isn’t the focus of the plot), Beard is still a strange little endearing man, Ted is our observant, sexy moustached lil stud. Not sure where I’m going with this, but I need to get it out of my brain. Hope you enjoy angel muffins.
If any readers from outside England need help deciphering the British culture, my door is open🔮
6:30am, Saturday. Your alarm blared, startling you from your deep sleep. You always slept with the windows wide open, and noticed today was particularly fresh.
The sun started to rise, casting a golden hue through your lilac voile curtains. You smiled. You felt light, and happy. And a feeling in your stomach, that hadn’t been felt for so long, whirled like the start of a tornado. You thought, it couldn’t be, butterflies? Or just excitement for your hard work to come to fruition.
6:31 - TED:
Howdy, camper. Just checking you didn’t get nabbed by the london underground people.
You audibly laughed. ‘Idiot’ you thought yourself .
6:32 - YOU:
I’m safe, appreciate the concern. Not sure if I’ve escaped a hangover or still buzzing.
6:33 - TED:
Tell me how you like your coffee, if it goes down well when you get to work, I’d say you’re fine and dandy.
6:34- YOU:
Sweet and syrupy. And in a bucket.
6:35 - TED:
Now I thought you were talking about me until you mentioned a bucket.
6:36- YOU:
If you were sweet, you’d know to not talk to me at least an hour after I’ve woken up😋🫶🏼x
You smiled, pulse quickening slightly. Mirroring exactly what Ted was doing from his office.
‘Why do you look like that?’ Roy asked, concerned.
‘How now, Mr Kent?’ Ted replied.
‘You’re blushing at your phone like a 13 year old girl.’
Ted smoothed over his moustache with the palm of his hand, wondering how he’s going to get out of this one,
He just laughed, huffed but not in a bad way.
Roy looked at him, understandingly and didn’t press anymore. Though he knew.
You jumped in the shower, washed your long hair and scrubbed off the sleep. Although February, it was still Christmas to you until the temperature reached over 18 degrees.
You reached for your favourite vanilla shower gel after rinsing out your hair and steadying yourself after having the water a bit too hot.
You sighed, feeling refreshed and still jittery. Today was casual, but you still wanted to feel put together, and your favourite way to start was smelling nice. You layered a gradual tan with cocoa butter, and sprayed a body mist followed by your perfume then shrouded yourself in your pink dressing gown.
It was now a bit after 7am, so you ate some breakfast, then sat by the floor length mirror in the corner of your spare room which doubled as a dressing room and put on your makeup before picking your clothes.
It was meant to rain by lunchtime- obviously. So you opted for ribbed, seamless taupe leggings, fluffy socks with khaki wellies. The train was a sauna, so you picked a white t-shirt bodysuit, and an oversized khaki bomber jacket.
The trains were quiet and calm; anyone with a right mind did not have a job that involved working Saturdays.
Opening your laptop, you sat back making full use of the seats either side of you and checked your calendar and to do list.
Somehow making it through the journey without napping, the tube pulled into Richmond. You flapped around making sure you had everything and hopped out the carriage onto the station.
You looked up, and there Ted was holding two drinks in his hand.
He had been on the platform for eight minutes and seven seconds, having already watched the arrival and departure of three trains before yours.
He tried to give himself an excuse. He got ready earlier than he expected, and if he sat on his sofa waiting to leave, he’d fall back to sleep. The line in the coffee shop would be really long, so he wanted to beat the rush. The trains were unpredictable, so he wanted to be ready in case you were running late. His excuses still circled back to you.
It was unlike you, but you were truly lost for words.
‘I could so get used to this’ you squealed.
He laughed, handing you the drink in exchange for your bags.
‘Maybe we’ll have to call this our match day tradition.’
‘You’d be training those boys for a match everyday if that’s so, Coach.’
He smiled, forcing his gaze away whilst you strolled back to the office.
‘Good morning?’ You asked.
The winter air nipped at your cheeks, leaving them a brighter shade of red than they were before. Your lips felt like they weren’t moving when you talked, and your fingers burned against the hot cup of hot chocolate.
Ted watched you lift the collar of your coat to shield your face. The back of his fingers barely brushed your cheek, as he frowned.
‘You’re colder than a moonwalk.’
You cackled, and before you could protest, he unwound his Richmond scarf off and placed it around your neck.
‘Ted-‘
‘No ma’am, I insist.’
He wrapped it around, then loosened it slightly, knuckles grazing your jawline. Your stomach flipped, and you looked up at him. He took a slow breath.
You looked down, scared to speak or say thank you in case you embarrassed yourself.
‘It is now, ‘ he yawned back to you.
‘Someone over indulge last night?’ You nudged into him gently.
‘Indeedly, alcohol that tastes like juice is not a friend you need.’
You laughed, as he shuddered with an afterthought of the night before, and how the room seemed to spin long before he even laid down in bed.
The warm air from the heated changing rooms blasted your face, Ted hung your bag up on the spare hook by the door, and you both waited for a few moments whilst Roy purged of all the profanity built up in the couple of hours he had been awake for.
He turned to you both, ‘Continue.’ he said, frown dropping to a less severe version, which you had learned was his way of smiling at you.
‘Morning boys. Glad to see some of you made the effort,’ you jeered, ‘Any questions about charity, come to me. I’ll be in my office. Any questions about anything else, no thank you.’
The room fell quiet, with the exception of their brains ticking.
‘Press room in 2 hours, thanks kindly babies!’
You walked out, blowing kisses to everyone, including Ted, who winked back.
‘I saw that,’ Beard whispered, creeping up behind Ted over his shoulder.
‘Southern hospitality, good sir.’ He nodded.
1pm came around, and the morning had been flat out. Players asking the nicest way to essentially ask people for money, Ted catching your eye every time he walked past, and Roy making you jump out your skin when he bellowed ‘FUCK’ every so often.
You prepared to talk to some local gazettes about the fundraiser and the good cause behind it, and how people could help.
The weather had taken a turn for the worst and the fresh winter morning changed to a wet, muddy wash out.
You snuggled up, keeping Ted’s scarf close still, and very aware that it now smelt like vanilla with a hint of his aftershave.
You reached up, stretching out to relieve your back from the ache of your poor posture.
You packed your stuff up and looked over to check Ted and Beard were still with you.
Ted was sat down, legs crossed up on the desk, on Facetime to Henry.
His smile dropped slightly when the call ended. This was one of the few times you had seen him vulnerable, and sad. Just when he thought no one was watching.
Your throat dried.
You stood up from your desk, headed over to Beard and Ted’s office, and poked your head round the door to see if they were ready to head down.
‘It’s pissing it down guys, just to let you know.’
Ted was about to stroll out in just his shirt, and Beard was still wearing his socks and sliders. Shameful, really.
They stopped, waiting for you to see where you were going with that.
You gestured to their coat stand and Beard’s shoes.
‘Gotcha.’ Ted nodded.
‘Hey, Coach, can I talk to you?’ You asked.
Beard patted your head, and you squished his cheeks with one hand.
‘Are you okay?’ You asked.
‘Sure, am. Tired.’
‘Wish Henry was here, hmm?’ You asked,
‘Every minute of every day.’ He looked to the floor.
‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘I’ll be okay, I’m sure you’ll manage to cheer me up soon enough.’
You squeezed his hand, lingering a second longer than you had to.
You headed downstairs, checked on the boys in the changing room and thanked them for all their hard work, giving them a quick squeeze and kiss on the cheek as they walked past outside the changing room.
You folded your arms and sighed at the mess left behind.
‘Fucksake.’ You sighed, taking your coat off but leaving the scarf.
You quickly swept round the room, humming a song. Ted sauntered past, then appeared by the door frame, leaning against it watching you float about and your hips sway. You muttered to yourself, hanging up their coats, returning socks and gloves to their other halves and refilling water bottles. Just a small gesture to make their lives a little easier- as if they didn’t have it easy already.
You turned to get your coat by the door, startled at seeing Ted watching you. He’d never seen you in something as casual, and somehow that made you even more breath taking. His knees threatened to buckle at the at your top clinging to an imprint of lace across your chest, in a top that was cut a bit lower than he was used to.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’ He replied, breathless.
‘Come on.’ Your hand brushed his, as you walked past.
There was a group of tiny children, who were waiting to walk out with the players.
You kneeled down with them.
A little girl with beautiful brown curls clutched her teddy bear, as her bottom lip started to tremble.
‘Hey, hey. What’s wrong, poppet?’ You whispered, pitch a tiny bit higher than normal.
‘I’m scared.’ She whimpered.
‘Oh, honey. We all get scared sometimes. Do you know something?’
A little boy nudged in a little bit closer to her, she nodded.
‘Coach Lasso has a son a little bit older than all of you. I’m sure he gets scared, but I know Henry is going to watch and know you guys are doing such a great job.’
You reached for the bow in her hair, straightening it delicately.
‘I get scared all the time. I’m sure Henry gets scared sometimes too. And so does Coach Lasso, and even silly Coach Beard. I’m scared before every match, too. But being scared isn’t a bad thing. It means you get to be even braver than you usually are. And all your friends here will help you. And I’ll be there too.’
She wiped a tear with the back of her hand, nodding and smiling bashfully.
You stood up, towering over them even though you were only small in stature. You held her hand, rubbing the back with your thumb.
Ted and Beard watched, as the children took it in turns to either cuddle or high five you, some almost knocking you back with their ferocious cuddles.
‘Ready team?’ You asked, trying to shake their nerves, and Ted listened for the grin in your voice.
Richmond unfortunately lost the match, but the crowds were still as busy as a league game. The mascots travelled round collecting loose change, shareholders of the club signed cheques and the journalists published updates to all their followers.
A pretty successful day.
The rain was still torrential, and the temperature dropped again. You stood by on the steps, by the doors that lead to the back ways of the stadium. Observing everyone going back to the lives. Mothers zipping up their children’s coats, Fathers bending down to pour the water out of wellies, and Ted looking round to try and find you in amongst the chaos.
He spotted you, and he chuckled to himself, watching how the rain was truly your enemy. He saw the way your face screwed up as your tried to see through the mist, and the way your baby hairs curled slightly at the nape of your neck as they got wet because they didn’t reach into your ponytail.
Your eyes scanned and found him too, both searching for eachother within the chaos of the day, without even realising you were doing so.
He was stood with Beard, debriefing about the day. He tapped the side of Beard’s arm, and gestured away. Beard turned, you waved and he pointed up at you, before flipping you off.
You did it back, a small inside joke, that was actually a declaration of adoration.
Ted headed up the stairs to you.
‘Raining sideways, ain’t it.’
‘It’s raining for sure ma’am. Sideways?’
You pointed up to the floodlight.
‘Sideways.’
‘Now isn’t that something.’
‘Don’t tell me you never noticed before?’ You acted shocked.
‘Nope, back home it goes straight to tornadoes.’
‘Oh Jesus.’
He laughed.
He didn’t want to watch from the sidelines anymore.
He wanted to be on the field with you.
And he hoped it would never stop raining, just so he could think of you when he looked up at the streetlights.
The door is left ajar, and Ted starts to notice the ember glow through the crack. Warm and radiant, inviting and safe and space for him to make a home. The door is tough, heavy and the opening times are few and far between. When he watches the way you move in that room, he knows exactly where he wants to put down roots.
‘Soulmate is too soft a word for the string that tied my heart to yours’
CONTENT: Ted is the same character as the show, reader is an East London/just outside of London girly, also she is the founder of the Richmond Foundation, who is the charity that gives back to the community. Age gap, or not, completely up to you (I am writing with one but it isn’t the focus of the plot), Beard is still a strange little endearing man, Ted is our observant, sexy moustached lil stud. Not sure where I’m going with this, but I need to get it out of my brain. Hope you enjoy angel muffins.
If any readers from outside England need help deciphering the British culture, my door is open🔮
Friday arrived. It was 9:47am, and you were sat cross legged in the middle of the team’s changing room, on one of those benches like the ones you used to use in PE back in primary school.
‘Nah your centre of gravity is off. Cross legged on a foot wide piece of wood. Mad.’ Jamie was so confused by your choice of sitting arrangement, and how you seemed to defy gravity.
‘Shut it, Tartt. Let the woman talk.’ Roy grunted from the corner.
‘Thanks Roy. Everyone use that as a reminder to never refer to a woman as the woman.’
Roy nodded respectfully. ‘Our lady.’
Jamie spluttered, Sam sat by his locker grinning genuinely in anticipation for your Friday troubleshooting.
‘Right, as respectful as this needs to be, shut up the lot of you. Alright?’
Murmurs of agreement and slow blinks and agreeable head nods crescendoed before silence fell.
‘Christ. Anyway, like I was saying. Big day tomorrow, you lot just need to smile and look approachable and think of all the little hearts you will be helping by doing your fucking job well.’
Ted and Beard walked through the double doors behind you. Beard double-took, fascinated by how you hadn’t toppled off the bench. Ted forgot to keep on walking. He shook back into reality.
Long, blown out curls fell down your back to the waistband of your trousers. Sage green with burgundy stripes, casual but not too casual. A maroon coloured pair of patent slingbacks sat next to your thighs on the bench. He chuckled. You were like a little girl sat colouring in on the living room floor, if that little girl had big Scorpio energy and a room full of 15 men hanging on her every word. Although he suspected that was probably every day in your childhood.
He shook back into reality. But first, he saw how a turquoise claw clip with tiny seashells held back your hair from your face, holding back two twists of hair, just tucked perfectly in the back of your head.
That was the first bright colour he had seen on you. Funny, really. Colour seemed to follow you. Everything around you felt brighter, despite your wardrobe living somewhere between winter sunsets and expensive red wine. Yet, you were always the brightest in the room
‘Look, I know you guys are all nervous, but it means you care. It’s for charity, all lighthearted. Take the pressure off. Can’t get bad publicity when you’re doing things for kids. That will come next week when you’re back to being selfish twats again’ you smiled to yourself, knowing they were actually the loveliest bunch of boys in the world. You wouldn’t say such mean things if it were actually true.
Everyone laughed, but you heard Ted’s louder than everyone else’s, just because you were looking for a sign he was still there behind you without turning to check.
‘Right, in a line,’ You stood up on the bench, some players still close to towering above you, ‘Coaches, Roy, that means you too.’
Ted felt a whirl of butterflies in his stomach, taking him back to being on the playground when he was 12, waiting for his friend to come back with the news of whether his crush liked him or not.
‘Here, I have written your worries. Anything that’s stood out from what you’ve told me this week. Underneath, is what I want you to follow that anxiety with. It isn’t a solution, or a just smile and get on with it. Every time that negative thought pops into your handsome little brains, you follow it through with what I have written underneath. Got it?’
They all nodded in unison.
‘Not here to fix any of you, not sure if you’re beyond help or all just stunningly perfect.’ you handed out lilac flashcards, with the player’s notes all handwritten in cursive in a gold glitter gel pen.
JAMIE:
Being good at something doesn’t mean you have to be perfect at it.
Whenever you feel yourself rushing, just count to three, and notice your feet. You’re grounded.
ROY:
You stress so much that sometimes the swear words you say aren’t even real. What the hell does motherfuckface even mean?
On a real though, don’t be afraid to let people know you care. It’s not a weakness.
The rest tucked theirs into pockets, wallets and boot bags, each one smiling to themselves for reasons only they understood.
BEARD:
Lordy. I dreaded coming to your name. I wish I had your amazingly computerised brain. I guess my thing to remember is… don’t let people too close tomorrow.. they could be lizard people.
Coach Beard looked at you sternly.
‘Thank you for acknowledging what will be the real downfall of society.’
‘I know this isn’t a real problem, but if you ever feel you want to share anything that troubles you, I’m here, alright?’
He nodded sincerely, face softening and his quirky facade faded for a split second.
Everyone else was busy tying laces or sniffing out the best Lynx spray.
You gave Ted his card, both holding the card a second longer than you needed to.
No words were said, until they had to be.
TED:
You’re not responsible for everyone else’s happiness. You make everyone around you happy without trying. If someone is trying to get a rise out of you, they’re deeply unhappy. How people choose to project is a reflection of them. You make my day a little bit brighter every morning xx
His eyes turned glassy, he put his hand on your forearm.
‘Got more wisdom than Gandalf the Grey, if he was from Essex and loved an Espresso Martini.’
‘Well he can’t be that wise if he didn’t magic them up once.’
Ted gestured that his mind was blown, you chuckled. He smiled, boldly. You took a couple of seconds to really analyse him. The hazel eyes with light green dashes, and the tiny creases that deepen the wider he smiled. How Ted seemed to be smiling and making jokes, but the friction when he swallowed told a different story of nervousness.
He walked off, back to Beard.
‘Coach…’ he asked Beard.
‘Yup?’
‘How does she know what to write?’
‘She listens. Probably eavesdrops, but mainly listens.’ Beard replies to Ted, not looking up.
‘Heck so at least I don’t gotta worry about her reading my diary.’
‘No sir. Your diary is safe, the workings of your brain are not.’
Higgins walked over, looking bashful and happy that he had also been thought of. Well of course you had thought of Higgins, it was you after all. He joined the cluster of Roy and the Coaches.
Will walked past, ‘Not the hair clip.’
Higgins responded ‘Yes indeed, big day. Very big day.’
‘Means she’s busy. But in control. And in a good mood. For now. Don’t fuck it up.’ Roy pointed a finger and scanned the group with it.
‘I can only take so much information on a Friday, y’all. You’re telling me the bangs are a mood ring?’
‘Oh it’s more complex than that Ted. You’ll learn.’ Higgins assured.
You had some peace and quiet before lunch while all the boys were out on the pitch.
You stood by the windows of the office overlooking the pitch, somehow your eyes had magnets within them and you found yourself in a field that only went to Ted.
You couldn’t work out why, but it seemed he was looking for a sign you were there too. His back was to you, facing the players, but he turned and looked up over his right shoulder, noticing you were there and waved.
You blushed. God forbid anyone saw.
‘We charge to watch practice, don’t you know.’
‘Christ woman. How are you so powerful but so stealthy?’
Rebecca cackled. ‘Years of scaring men and then catching them out.’
‘Honestly. A reminder as to why I will never do anything behind your back.’
‘Clever girl,’ she gently nudged you with an elbow, then put her arm round your shoulder and squeezed you in.
‘God I love ya. 6 hours til we can be balls deep in a bottle of chicken wine.’
‘You know I think so highly of you, and your intelligence knocks me for six every day. And not to diminish previous accolades, but fucked up Fridays is the best idea you’ve had.’ She laughed, richly and excitedly.
‘Work hard, play hard babes!’
After lunch, everyone seemed to be reenergised and the nerves had dissipated.
You might come across as scatty, but the team listened to you and took you seriously. Heaven help them if they added to your list of stresses.
Beard stood by your desk, in a wide stance and gesturing freely with his hands, with his eyed almost as wide as his legs.
You sat forward in your chair, listening intently and entertaining a conversation about the people that live in the abandoned tube network. He made you laugh so much, it hurt. Tears spilled from your eyes, and your cackle echoed through the office.
Ted was at his desk, behind the glass separator that corner off his bit of the office. He had his chin in his hand, and his elbow on the table. Smiling, and not paying attention to anything else that was going on in the office. He loved you being happy. He loved how you copied people’s body language, and you were just as expressive as Beard was, just to make him feel more comfortable. You weren’t performing. You were just being yourself. And that’s what he couldn’t look away from everytime he saw you for who you really were.
The conversation started to wrap, and Beard headed in Ted’s direction, walking backwards even though his agility was questionable.
‘I have maps.’
You stood up, one knee on your chair and one leg straight to the floor, palms pressed to your desk. ‘No effing way. Monday, we will investigate.’
Beard saluted and turned away, you laughed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.
Rebecca appeared behind you. Statuesque and stunning.
‘This is Mr McGarthy, investors meeting in the boardroom in 9 minutes.’ She said simply.
You softened your smile, straightened your shoulders and all of a sudden seemed 5 inches taller. You shook his hand, Ted didn’t like the way he turned your palm downwards as if he was going to bring it up to kiss it.
You were still warm, even though you hesitated before saying your niceties.
Ted noticed. He saw the discomfort, but saw you didn’t become someone else, just adjusted to accommodate someone new. Even if they didn’t really deserve it.
You gathered your notebook, laptop and your cup of coffee. You waved Ted over, not taking a second thought at the fact he was already looking at you.
‘Hey’ you smiled.
‘Howdy’ he smiled back.
Rebecca lead the four of you into the boardroom. You ran your hand through your hair, and reset the curl that lay in front of your shoulder. Mr McGarthy held the door open for Rebecca, following her in. Ted lurched forward, catching the door before it shut in your face. You gave him the ‘Really?’ look, rolling your eyes. He tried to suppress the laugh.
The boardroom felt cold. It was uncomfortable, and the clinical lights were close to giving you a migraine. You sat next to Ted, and he tried so hard to not fall into a trance at the smell of your perfume that breezed over when you set your hair back behind your shoulder.
Rebecca sat opposite Ted and Mr McGarthy opposite you.
He was fairly handsome, but he knew it. He smelt like aftershave that was £300 a bottle, and a suit with his initials embroidered on the cuff.
You were also sure he was undressing you with his eyes.
Richmond had a couple of investors who would help when it came to buying new players, or setting up fundraisers. This is where you came in.
Tomorrow’s charity day had a lot riding on it. Nearing the end of the financial year, you were determined to give the local schools a boost as their budgets were probably on the decline before April.
Now Mr McGarthy was pleasant, he responded to emails promptly and answered your calls, asking how you were and genuinely meant it.
He was here to finalise the figures to meet what was left of your fundraising target for tomorrow. The pennies did matter. It’s always the richest men that were the stingiest, but that’s how he stayed so rich, you supposed.
‘I have a copy of the investors pack here. Ted. Rebecca.’
They skimmed over it, Mr McGarthy’s brain ticking as he wondered how he could do some charitable donation on a budget.
You turned to the screen, the agenda for tomorrow, followed by a break down of what you want to use the money for.
You didn’t pace, you stepped across the room with purpose. Talking with your hands, but not flapping. Commanding the room, looking at Mr McGarthy, eyes warming when they looked at Rebecca, and eyes brightening when they looked at Ted.
‘We are at £4,278.27. The fundraising officially stops after the match tomorrow when we count the final bits and pieces that have come in through the day, and so on.’
Ted and Rebeca started clapping. Mr McGarthy joined in. You felt embarassed but tried to embrace it.
‘Congratulations. So that’s exceeded the target after all?’
‘Not yet, the target was £5,225.’
‘Hmm. You didn’t relay that to me. And now the game is tomorrow and I could have a considerable sum to pay out.’
‘The leaflet in the investors pack had a chart your office could follow with the donations from the tab on our website.’
‘So you’re at a downfall of just under a thousand pounds?’
‘Downfall is negative. As I said, I predict another five hundred tomorrow.’
‘How?’
‘It’s all in the pack.’
He scoffed.
Ted goes to interject, not that he really had a clue.
You clear your throat. ‘With all due respect sir…’
Ted leans forward. One thing he knew for sure, when you started a sentence like that, there was no respect.
Rebecca tapped his leg under the table and smiled reassuringly, subtly shaking her head.
‘The target is on the posters given in the investors pack. There were multiple schemes for how to help donate whilst you were an investor and getting profit from the club.’
He sat back in his chair. You were right, he just had people to look at things for him and just signed a cheque when needed.
‘I’m not sure what profit I’ll be seeing soon, the way the table’s going at the moment.’
‘Next time you can invest in Microsoft then. Or maybe jet fuel.’ You chirped, sitting down next to Ted. You smiled, subtly but deviously.
He laughed. Not in spite, you didn’t mean that spitefully either and your confidence helped the joke land. Ted laughed, moving his hand away from the lower back of your chair when he realised he instinctively moved closer to you.
‘Richmond is the only investment for me. I’m grateful you are working so hard to keep it centered in what really matters.’
You took that as a win and an apology.
Rebecca winked at you, clapped her hands together.
You and Mr McGarthy stood up at the same time, and you leaned over the table to shook his hand. Ted had to try extra hard to distract himself when he noticed your hips were practically eye level with him.
‘Thank the Lord I didn’t get in the way.’ He thought to himself, looking up to the ceiling.
Work had finally finished, and the team all headed down to the Crown and Anchor pub.
Everyone chipped in £30 and you ordered the round. Ted helped you carry the drinks over to the table.
‘Cheers to family’ Beard announced.
‘Cheers fuckers’ Roy confirmed.
‘Very profound.’ Rebecca sighed, holding up her glass of red wine.
You held up your glass of white and everyone else’s glasses followed, clinking clumsily. You were squished inbetween Roy and Ted. Roy put his arm around you, pulled you in and kissed the top of your head.
‘Proud of you.’ He said. Matter of factly, didn’t care if people thought he was soft. You thanked him gently.
‘Couldn’t do it without you all, my honeys’
You fiddled with the rings on your hand, and Ted placed his hand over yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, before moving it back under the table.
‘I’m here with you.’ he communicated, as your eyes found his, and you both tried to put a name to the expression you were conveying to eachother.
‘To Richmond’ you cheered.
‘To us’ Beard added.
‘Come on then, let’s get Essex girl wasted.’
Mae continued pouring pints all night, and turned the music up. Cheesy family party tunes, with the occasional bizarre karaoke song from Colin.
The hours flew, and you found yourself sat in the same booth alone with Ted.
He was sat back, arm across the back of the dark red leather seat, pint in hand and condensation dripping down his wrist from his thumb. You had one leg tucked under you, shoes not on your feet again.
‘I do love the colour red’ he declared, after noticing the matching manicure and pedicure, but styling it out by patting the old leather.
‘The colour of danger’ you replied.
‘So negative’ he winked, ‘naw the colour of love and passion.’
Your cheeks burned again, you hoped he didn’t notice.
You desperately tried to find the words to say, in a fluster for you were no longer in control.
Ted got it.
‘So what’s your perfect Saturday?’
You thought. You hadn’t really taken the time to ever make a Saturday perfect, you just went with whatever was needed from you.
‘I guess a day like tomorrow’ you replied, honestly.
‘Ma’am I’m gonna need y’all to tell the truth’ he leaned in.
You swatted him playfully.
‘I mean it. Swear to ya. Surrounded by these princesses, spending the day with you. And Beard obviously. It’s nostalgic, my dad used to love me going to the games with him.’
Your smile faltered.
‘If we’re doing honesty, my perfect Saturday is that too. Wish Henry could be there tomorrow too though.’
‘You tell me what Henry would like, and I’ll be sure to add a little sprinkle of Henry into the day’
‘Now I see you’re truly perfect. For the club. Your role, I mean’
You laughed, gently to not embarrass him.
‘Okay what’s the oldest thing you own?’
‘Probably my back’ he stretched.
‘Smart arse’
‘What about you?’
‘Definitely my Nan’
You both belly laughed, and his mind flashed back to the picture on your laptop. The smile and galaxy in your eyes was the same as the photo, just with a dark red lip and your hair falling over your face when you leaned in to him laughing.
‘I better make tracks and get the last train.’
‘Me too, long old walk that 300 yards to the apartment.’
‘Ugh I’d pay anything to be snuggled in bed in the next 10 minutes.’
His mind flew to the thought of you curled up like a kitten in your bed. Probably with your hair in some crazy overnight contraption. Were your bedsheets dark purple too? Leopard print scattered around the room? He couldn’t picture anything else. Did you have another photograph of you happy on your bedside table? Would you ask him to fill up your water bottle the second his head hit the pillow? And would he do it for you? Absolutely.
He stood up and watched you fiddle with your heels, before sliding out and standing up in front of him.
‘After you.’ He held his hand out.
‘I don’t like going first.’
He smiled softly, tapping your hip as he walked out before you, stopping to hold the door open.
You waited outside for a second as he followed behind you. You strolled slowly, as he walked you down to Richmond station.
It felt comfortable. He listened to you chat away, talking about your friends and your feelings about the charity day. He watched as your heels were in your hand, and your bare feet daintily padded across the old cobbles of the side streets. Your heels swung in your hand, as you watched the floor, occasionally looking up to catch his gaze which was on you the whole time.
He laughed to himself.
You paused mid sentence.
‘Sorry darling, didn’t meant to stop you. Just couldn’t help but notice these shoes are for office hours only.’
You grinned. ‘Yeah you’re absolutely right. They’re for looking expensive. You know, dressing for the job you want and all that.’
He looked puzzled.
‘And what job is it you want?’
‘The job I have now. That’s why I still wear them.’
He cleared his throat.
‘This is me.’
‘Sadly so.’ He slid his hands in his pocket. Then quickly took them out as he relieved you of your bag whilst you wiped your feet down and put your heels back on.
‘Get home safe.’
‘Always.’ You whispered, before turning to tap your phone on the ticket barriers.
He watched, as you sat on the empty carriage in the seat facing him.
He stood there, hands in his pockets until the train leaves. You weren’t looking, you were digging through your bag finding your earphones. Your crossed your legs, looked up and found him still watching,
You waved gently. Ted stood there until he couldn’t even hear the train anymore, let alone see it.
‘You waited.’ Beard suddenly appeared beside him, a hand swiftly tapping Ted’s shoulder blade.
The door is left ajar, and Ted starts to notice the ember glow through the crack. Warm and radiant, inviting and safe and space for
him to make a home. The door is tough, heavy and the opening times are few and far between. When he watches the way you move in that room, he knows exactly where he wants to put down roots.
‘Soulmate is too soft a word for the string that tied my heart to yours’
CONTENT: Ted is the same character as the show, reader is an East London/just outside of London girly, also she is the founder of the Richmond Foundation, who is the charity that gives back to the community. Age gap, or not, completely up to you (I am writing with one but it isn’t the focus of the plot), Beard is still a strange little endearing man, Ted is our observant, sexy moustached lil stud. Not sure where I’m going with this, but I need to get it out of my brain. Hope you enjoy angel muffins.
If any readers from outside England need help deciphering the British culture, my door is open🔮
‘Hi babes, yeah nah these trains are the death of me I swear. I’m at West Kensington now, will be 25 minutes tops’ you tried to be as quiet as you could, packed in like a sardine on the tube in peak time. Only an hour into your commute from your little town just outside London, Chelsea and Kensington already felt like another world.
You managed to get the same seat you somehow bag every day, sat with your bag tucked between your legs on the floor, your makeup bag tucked under your shoulder and juggling a mirror and tube of eyeliner in one hand.
Obviously the morning wasn’t complete without the train being stuck at red signals, so Rebecca, the owner of Richmond FC where you work, had her phone on hand every morning waiting to see how late you would be. Even though late to you still meant ten minutes before you had to be in the office.
‘Darling, you could have had 15 minutes longer in bed and still be here before Will.’
‘You know me, Miss Welton, it’s fashionable to be late but I prefer to be smugly on time.’
She laughed down the phone, before telling you to go away and enjoy the ‘peace’ before dealing with a football team of teenage girls. Sam was maybe the only one who didn’t act this way, Jamie however, was in his peak teenage girl years.
You packed your makeup away, finally ready for the day ahead, and extremely thankful it was Friday Junior.
The tube pulled into Richmond and you scurried down the high street, stopping in Blank Street for your vanilla latte.
The office seemed quiet, the players were enjoying a morning of no responsibilities, Rebecca looked stunning as ever, marching up, down and around the stadium, Higgins by her heels like a lost puppy.
‘Good luck.’ Rebecca winked as you sauntered past.
You headed up the stairs, and round the corner to the office. Coach Beard and Ted now had the privilege of working upstairs with the ‘suits’ as they fondly called you all.
It was still cold out, mid February and a bright, but fresh Spring lingered round the corner. You wore a dark emerald, satin dress with cream court stilettos, a tan and gold belt, cinching you in at the waist, and a cream Longchamp bag on your shoulder. The team’s ears pricked at the delicate click of your heels against the navy blue floor.
‘Hi boys, being good I hope?’
A mutter of responses and chuckles echoed as you carried in walking past.
The hall was transformed with an aroma of vanilla, cinnamon and amber, and of course, the smell of fresh coffee.
You sat at your desk, personalised with photos of you and your friends, odes to your family and your little Essex life at home.
In your eyeline but not in your focus, Ted, Beard and Roy were in a small congregation in their cell, busy doing nothing. Beard brought his finger to his lip, and shushed them. Roy stood deadpan, and Ted had his head in his hand, all three as if watching a penalty shootout. You unfolded your travel mirror, propped it up, and slowly unraveled your velcro roller. Your black, silk hair curled under itself and you brushed it down into your parting, reminiscent of a 50’s pin up girl.
The corner of your lip curled up ever so slightly, and you sighed with relief, sitting more comfortably in your chair and shaking off the morning, and sent a wink their way.
‘Boy I haven’t seen tension like that since the 1998 Becks red card’ Ted swivelled in his chair, smacking both hands onto his thigh and turning to Roy and Beard.
‘This is no fucking game, Lasso.’ Roy grunted.
‘Good sir, you have a lot to learn.’
Ted was astounded. What was he missing?
‘So is it safe to go and approach the lioness?’ Ted jested.
‘If her hair’s having a good day, you’ll be having a good day.’ stated Roy, no frills, just facts.
You were engrossed in writing an email, two tiny manicured hands tapping away on your laptop, when Ted sauntered over, chirpy as ever.
‘Hey now, did you know you got your mane to predict the boy’s day?’
‘Hello Coach, I did indeed. Too right an’ all.’
Ted raised his eyebrows, heart skipping a beat too when you looked up at him.
‘Well then how’s your morning going so far?’
‘It’s fine, the boys should count themselves lucky,’
‘I think they most definitely do, miss.’
‘Very sweet of you, Mr Lasso.’
He smiled, a hint of an awkward silence before he apologised for bothering you. His eyes wandered from the emerald satin of your dress to the cream tote resting against your chair before he realised he’d been looking at all. He cleared his throat, as if caught by his own curiosity.
‘It’s all Gucci, Coach, never a bother here.’
‘Gucci? Now I didn’t know the charity budget stretched that far. Unicorn umbrella included?’
‘No Ted, I meant it’s all good and the bag and it’s contents are TK maxx’
‘Tj Maxx?’
‘K’
‘Okay.’
‘TK. TK Maxx’
‘Oh. Nope.’
‘TK Maxx is TJ Maxx but we just call it by the wrong name here. Nothing’s Gucci. How can I help?’
‘Just keep being you’ he half waved, laughing and shaking his head, as he walked off. Roy had come back from wherever he lurked off to, probably to invent another swear word he could shout on live TV for the next generation of eight year olds to repeat.
‘You’re doing it again.’ Roy muttered, without even looking up to confirm Ted’s actions.
‘Doing what?’
‘Looking.’
‘Naw I’m just observin’
‘You’re looking with admiration. It’s weird.’
‘It’s country etiquette. And neighbourly.’
Roy growled.
He took a minute to collect himself, answered a few calls and tried to figure out how he could be productive.
By the time Ted wandered back to you through the office with a fresh coffee, you’d disappeared into a spreadsheet, your brow gently furrowed in concentration. His eyes drifted—not to pry, just because there was always something new to notice.
His eyes drifted over your desk. Five different coloured notebooks sat in a neat pile, tiny tabs poking out from every side, each one labelled in looping black handwriting.
The tote bag on the floor was open, revealing smaller pouches tucked inside larger pouches, as though organisation was some kind of Russian nesting doll. He noticed the filing drawer. Not a single crease in sight. Your calendar was on the desktop, with a heart drawn around the words ‘Richmond FC’ and each square highlighted a different colour.
He thought to himself ‘She’s getting shit done in a language I can’t speak yet, but boy do I want to learn.’
The office has finally settled.
The morning chaos has passed. The calls are made. The emails are answered. The pink roller has done its duty and been returned to its pouch like a tiny retired soldier.
Ted wanders over again, not really sure what question he needed to ask, watching you drinking from an absurdly large bottle of water.
He distracts you and asks about the next community event coming up, and you get in the details for this weekend.
Halfway through, you go to show him some pictures on your laptop. You wiggle your mouse. The screen blinked awake. Ted’s eyes flickered towards it before he could stop himself. He wasn’t trying to look. He just… did.
Then he forgot whatever he’d been about to say.
The woman on the screen smiled back at him. No colour-coded notebooks. No meetings. No football club and their cousins depending on her before lunchtime. She was simply herself. Bare faced, hair in a messy bun, sitting on a sofa squashed in between her mum and her nan.
Three huge mugs of tea- he sees how you don’t do anything travel size. Three beautiful, cheesy, white smiles.
And Ted smiles. Not because he finds you cute. He thinks way more than ‘cute.’ It’s filed away into his memory under tiny parts of her no one else gets to see.
‘Three generations of loonies, I suspect’
She looks over, smiling confused.
‘Oh, yep,’
A little embarrassed.
‘They seem like fun.’
‘They are.’
She turns back to her laptop.
‘That was after a really bad week actually. Nanny said we needed a ‘proper girls’ night.’
Ted smiles.
‘Sounds like she knows what she’s doing.’
‘She made us wear matching pyjamas.’
‘Even better.’
‘She’s seventy’
‘Ma’am, I think that makes it even better.’
‘You look happy.’
Not you look nice. Not I like your dress.
You look happy.
A rarer compliment. One that so often went unnoticed.
You blinked. It caught you off guard.
‘Thank you.’ You smiled, lips closed, face softening.
Everyone always commends you on your work, a fun event, good office morale, and a great fundraiser. But no one stops to say, you look happy. Or you look like you’ve had a bad day.
Ted does. And he can’t seem to escape your pull.
Beard stood a respectful distance away, hands folded behind his back, watching Ted with the quiet interest of a man observing wildlife. Or, perhaps more accurately, like a parole officer. Whichever he thought Ted needed most.
He nodded slowly, like a game of tennis if the audience was socially inept.
Ted smiled. Beard noticed.
Ted looked at the photograph one more time. Beard noticed that too.
Coach Beard knew better than to interrupt a moment before it knew what it wanted to become.
