“Jody,” he says, answering my question before I voice it. “Also not mysterious since she’s the mother of my fucking child.”
“Finn has reportedly been spending a lot of time with his teammates. In particular, newly appointed captain, Aiden Campbell (25). The pair have made several public appearances together.”
“The news of the split follows Eggington’s vice captaincy appointment.”
He switches his phone to lock-screen and tosses it onto the counter. Then he runs a hand through his hair and paces the remaining four feet of free space in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s none of their business. I wish they would—”
Eggo doesn’t let me finish my sentence. In one swift movement, he pulls his T-shirt over his head, squashes me against the worktop, and brings his mouth down to mine.
“Fuck, Pi. I can’t . . . Why . . . Urgh!” he says between kisses. He rubs his hand over my crotch to gauge my arousal, steps away, shakes his head, then drops to his knees. “Let’s do this once more . . . before I don’t get to see you for two months.”
I need to ask him about Cornwall, but my cock is already in his mouth and my balls are in his palm and the thoughts just puff out of my brain. I can tell him later, it’s fine.
Suddenly, we hear voices. They’re coming from the front of the building.
“Shit! Abs and Orlando!” I say, pushing him off me.
“Fuck!” He wipes his face and tugs on his shirt as I push my aching wet dick back inside my shorts and try to steady my breaths.
I let Trekkie in—Abs and Orlando have those lovely bi-folding doors that haunt my daydreams—because if anything is going to give us a decent distraction, it’s my dog’s manic hello. As predicted, he charges straight to the front of the flat. Eggo and I split apart like the same poles of a magnet.
Shit, his T-shirt is inside out.
“Eggs!” I hiss and motion to his shirt. He looks down, spots the seam, and his eyes grow wide.
I leave him in the kitchen to give him time to correct it, and meet the flat’s new occupants in the hall. “How ya going, Abs? Lan?”
But the boys blithely push past me deeper into the flat.
Eggo hasn’t been able to fix his T-shirt. In fact, he’s made it worse. Now, not only is it inside out, but it’s also back to front. The branding label juts out at his throat like a little packet of cafesugar. He looks at me, clamps his teeth down on his bottom lip, and in my head I hear his panic.“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
Orlando immediately clocks it. He makes eyes at Abs, though my ginger pal seems considerably less observant than his boyfriend.
“Oi oi, thanks for helping with this,” Abs says.
Eventually Eggo tears his wide-eyed gaze away from me and looks at the newcomers. “Abs! Orlando! How’d it go?”
“I got the job,” Orlando says. He raises a brow, which I take as an invitation to explain my teammate’s incorrectly donned shirt.
I ignore this. “Bloody ripper.” I high five him instead.
“Uhh . . .” Eggo scratches the back of his head. “Where do you want all these boxes?”
“You can just leave them there, thanks. This is such a big help,” Abs says.
“No problem, mate,” I say. Surely Abs can’t be this clueless. “Thank you for watching Trekkie for a few weeks. Let me explain a few things about feeding him and stuff.” I pull a list from my pocket, but with the other hand I’m shooing Eggo out of the room so he can slip away and fix his clothing.
He takes the hint and pushes himself off the counter. “While you guys are running through all that bollocks, I’m gonna take a wizz.”
I try to shield as much of his inside out T-shirt as I can, but Eggs is such a big guy, it’s almost impossible.
“Change of plan,” I say, as soon as Eggo’s left the room. “I’m not going to Australia.”
“What? Why not?” Abs asks, glancing at Trekkie.
I can’t tell them the real reason, so I take my phone out and show them the article from the sports blog. Moral support! I’ll explain that I’m helping him heal from his breakup. Also, that’s not even a lie.
