c9 - Affectionate
In his previous life, he had heard the story that Vardy was placed under an electronic tracker by the police because he had stood up for a deaf teammate. But now, he finally understood the truth—it was just media embellishment.
Yes, he had defended a teammate, but it wasn't on the training ground. It was in a nightclub…
That explained everything!
Despite being under 18 and technically prohibited from drinking in England, teenage footballers weren't exactly known for their restraint. Late-night parties, a few drinks, and the adrenaline rush that came with reckless brawls were part of the culture. And so, after one particular night out, Vardy had woken up to find an electronic tracker strapped to his ankle.
This wasn't much different from house arrest. With a strict 6 PM curfew, he was barred from going out at night, which meant away games—especially those requiring travel—were off the table. Under normal circumstances, this would have severely impacted his career prospects.
Well, that was one more problem to solve before heading to Manchester United.
If United wanted him, they had to find a way to fix this mess. That was their problem, not his.
As he walked toward his parents' house, his pace slowed. Meeting them for the first time in this life was inevitable, but the thought made him uneasy.
He had inherited the real Vardy's memories, but emotions weren't so easily transferred. Feelings were complicated—he couldn't force himself to feel something that wasn't there.
But, according to his memories, his parents had always treated him well. They weren't wealthy, not even middle class, but their lives were filled with love and laughter.
Still, he knew that in his previous life, once Vardy became famous, his relationship with his father had soured. His dad was old-fashioned and never approved of Vardy dating a woman older than him. That disagreement had led to deep family tensions.
An older girlfriend? Vardy shuddered at the thought.
If that kind of plotline was meant to happen in this life, he'd put an end to it immediately!
It wasn't about discrediting his past-life girlfriend, but he remembered how she had turned into a nightmare. She wasn't a kind or supportive partner—she was more like a loudmouthed, overbearing tyrant.
When Vardy became a star at Leicester City, fans would often show up at his family home asking for autographs. Instead of handling the situation with grace, she had gone on a public rant on Twitter:
"You idiots! If you want a signature, go to the club! Stop coming to our house like beggars!"
That tweet had exploded, making headlines and turning her into a figure of ridicule.
Honestly, he had no idea what had attracted him to her in the first place. If she appeared in this life, he wouldn't waste a second—he'd run.
His thoughts wandered as he neared home, but he was suddenly pulled back to reality when he turned a corner and came face-to-face with a group of young men and women.
He immediately recognized the girl leading them.
Vardy's instincts screamed at him: Turn around and leave. Right now.
She was dressed provocatively—tight clothes, heavy makeup, the works. She wasn't unattractive, but the overly artificial look made her seem cheap.
Of all the people to run into…
This was the girl Vardy had foolishly pursued in the past. And, according to his best friend David, she had rejected him so brutally that David thought Vardy might jump off a bridge from heartbreak.
That had been the old Vardy's problem. Now, it was his to deal with.
He quickly averted his gaze and tried to walk past them as if they were invisible. That was the best course of action.
Unfortunately, things rarely went as planned.
Before he could escape, the girl spoke up, her voice dripping with mockery.
"I've already told you—we're never going to happen! Why are you following me? Are you some kind of stalker? God, you're creeping me out! If you don't back off, I'll call the police!"
Vardy froze.
Did she seriously think he was still obsessed with her? He hadn't even looked at her!
He rubbed his temples in exasperation.
"You think too highly of yourself. Don't flatter yourself. I'm just going home," he said coldly and moved to walk past her.
But before he could, the muscular guy next to her—clearly her new boyfriend—stepped forward, blocking his way.
"So this is the loser who was bothering you? The reject from Sheffield Wednesday's youth academy?"
Vardy's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yeah, that's him! A total failure. He thought he could date me! As if! I've told him a million times, but he just won't give up!" she sneered.
The musclehead puffed out his chest and smirked.
"Listen up, kid. Stop bothering Alyssa. She's my girl now. You? You're just some nobody from an amateur club. If you don't want trouble, stay out of our way."
Vardy stared at him blankly.
What was this guy's deal? Did he think he was the main character in some bad drama?
"Jamie Vardy," the girl continued, her voice dripping with condescension, "you're nothing. You got kicked out of Sheffield Wednesday's academy, and you'll never make it in professional football. My boyfriend, on the other hand, just got promoted to the first team. He's about to become a real star. You two aren't even in the same league. Honestly, you're not even as good as his dog."
Vardy almost laughed out loud.
Not because of her words, but because of her boyfriend.
This guy—this meathead—was in Sheffield Wednesday's first team?
He looked him up and down. No, there was no way. If he had been a promising player, Vardy would have remembered him from the academy.
Sheffield Wednesday was in League One—the third tier of English football. And even if this guy was in their first team, so what? That wasn't exactly something to brag about.
Vardy smirked, shaking his head.
His expression didn't go unnoticed. The musclehead scowled.
"What's so funny?"
Vardy finally let out a short chuckle.
"You."
That single word made the guy's face darken with rage.
"You're pathetic," the musclehead growled. "You're still playing in an eighth-tier amateur league, while I'm playing professional football. If I were you, I'd stop dreaming and find a real job. At least then, you'd have food on the table."
Vardy's smirk didn't fade.
He was going to Manchester United.
This idiot had no idea who he was talking to.
So instead of arguing, he simply patted the guy on the shoulder, chuckled once more, and walked away.
The look on their faces? Priceless.