My father would have loved to be here. What was happening before my eyes was nothing like the few snippets of matches that I had seen from the couch in our living room.
At the same time, I heard the sound of an engine that made me turn around. A red Jeep was pulling up.
Georgia got out of the car.
If I had been a man, I would have had a stroke. Although she clearly wasn’t going play, she had put on a rugby outfit including some personal improvements: white shorts, so short that they could have been mistaken for a shorty, a blue and white striped long-sleeved T-shirt, tight and wide open on the chest, a pair of white socks going up to mid-thigh, and sneakers.
This girl was making me nervous. Miss Universe would have felt like an ugly duckling next to her.
I swallowed and looked at the
