“Hal,” Nicollete called, running up to her, “Your sweatshirt is, like, four sizes too large.”

“It’s warm and snuggly,” Halley replied, shrugging and picking her bag up. “Is everybody here?”

“You have eyes.”

“I do, yes, but I like to use yours.” Halley rolled her eyes, “I only see Kian and Mark.”

“Yes, that’s right. A tall giant type chap next to a very short leprechaun.”

“Hey, that’s my boyfriend…that leprechaun.”

“I see you could tell who I meant. Do you call him that for a pet name?” Nicollete asked, laughing as the two girls ran to the sidelines.

“Nooooo,” Halley laughed, “He’d kill me.” She threw her bag onto a bench and stood in front of her boyfriend, who was talking to Mark about strategy.

“Did you decide on teams, Hal?” Mark asked her, hugging Nicollete, who was shivering in the brisk wind.

She shrugged and began stretching, keeping her eye on the dirt parking lot just behind them.

“There are seven of us; sadly an uneven number,” Kian began.

“I’m glad your vast knowledge of maths stayed with you into your adult years,” Halley joked from the ground where she was doing sit-ups.

“Why are you doing exercise before exercising?” Mark wanted to know, watching as Nicollete tossed her hair into a messy bun.

“It’s so I don’t get a cramp or something in the middle of the game.”

Kian rubbed her back, “Yes, well…one of the teams is going to have an extra player.”

Mark took a deep breath, “Well, we figure out who the worst player is and stick them on Nicky’s team to give us an advantage.” His eyes wandered to Kian, who was busying himself with tying up his laces. Mark leaned down to Halley’s level, “Kian’s often the worst player.” He coughed so Kian wouldn’t get suspicious, but Kian was talking about shoes with Nicollete. “We should send him on a beer run, start play, and have him be the alternate.”

Halley looked reluctant to do this, but finally nodded in agreement after Mark pleaded with her for about five hundred years. “Ki,” she said, standing up and going over to where he sat on the bench.

“Yes,” Kian replied, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him.

“Can you go and get some beer?” Halley asked, pouting out her lower lip and using her best begging voice.

“We’re playing drunken football?” Kian questioned, sounding excited as his eyes lit up with joy like a small child on Christmas morning.

“Only if you go get beer,” Halley laughed.

Kian kissed her quickly and stood up, “Okay. I’ll be back in a small bit.” He jogged to his car, got in, and peeled out of the parking lot.

“Well done,” Mark said to Halley, who grinned wanly.

“He’s gonna go into a Kian-Pisser if we start without him,” Halley warned, slugging down a bottle of water. Nicollete stood beside her with Mark behind her, his arms around her.

“It’ll be fine,” Nicollete assured her, watching as several cars pulled into the parking area and the rest of their group got out. “When he gets back, he can sub for somebody.”

Nicky flounced up to them then and threw a duffle bag on the ground; Shane, looking like a diva with huge black sunglasses on and feminine attire, followed slowly behind carrying a picnic basket.

“You ready to take a beating?” Nicky asked Halley, who smiled at him.

“Watch it, Byrne, I have…taller people on my team.”

Nicky laughed and pulled a soccer ball (or football to the Europeans) from his bag and tossed it to the middle of the pitch. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“On a beer run,” Halley explained, jogging towards the ball beside Nicky.

“He’s a much worse player when he’s drunk, Halley.”

“I’m aware of that,” she replied, grinning. “Drinking is not conducive to playing football, but it will make the teams even.”

“Yes, especially as we all drop like flies with high blood alcohol levels.”

“STOP WORRYING!” Mark hollered, running up to them.

“All right,” Nicollete sounded business like as she made her way to the rest of the group. Bryan and Shane were talking to Steo back by the benches; Eloy was late to arrive.

“Teams. Feehily, Byrne, you’re on my team.” Halley’s eyebrow went up as she kicked the ball around, but she didn’t say anything. “Halley, you’re with Filan, McFadden and Egan when he decides to show up.”

Halley shrugged, having no problems with this team. She knew that once Shane got his act in gear and concentrated on the game and not his boyfriend, he would probably score numerous goals; Bryan would fool around, but then buckle down just at the last minute.

“Open goals,” Nicollete continued, “So whoever can get in ‘em when the time is right.” She waved Bryan, Shane and Steo over, and they slowly made their way.

Halley pulled Shane and Bryan into a huddle on one side of the pitch, while Nicollete did the same with Nicky and Mark. Steo stood in the middle adjusting his striped shirt and checking his watch every few moments. A whistle dangled around his neck, gleaming in the sunlight; his black trousers were freshly ironed (maybe by Eloy, no one was sure and no one asked) but were a tad small so his purple ankle socks were in plain view, as well as about an inch of his bare leg.

“Did you dry your pants in the dryer for too long, Steo?” Bryan joked, stepping up for the coin toss. Mark would be calling it in the air.

“Eloy did my laundry this week and he seemed to think I needed less clothing.” Steo pulled at his pants in aggravation. “These were my only referee type trousers. It was either this or my rainbow colored sweat pants. Or my red leather ones, but they don‘t have much give in the crotch area.”

“They’re fine,” Nicollete commented from behind him, where she stood waiting to attack Shane. She knew that if she tackled him, he’d go down fast and easy and probably squeal like a girl on the way. He was wearing white shorts and white socks pulled up to his knees, which made him an easy target. For jokes at least.

“Heads,” Mark called as the coin flipped about in the air.

Bryan sighed heavily, “You know it’s always heads.”

“Sometimes it’s tails,” Nicky said happily.

Sighs erupted all around until Steo grabbed the coin in mid-air and flipped it over on his hand. “HEADS! Team Feehily, take it out!”