“I realised a while ago that I stopped looking for the next thing to make me happy because . . .” Okay, it’s cringe, but here goes. “Because it was you. Is you. Everything about you makes me happy. Being with you. Spending time with you. The way you are with Logan. The way you are with your family, the Cents boys,everyone. You give me this . . . inner peace that I’ve just not been able to find before.”
“Fuck, I love you,” he says. The words are strained, like they're being passed through a narrow tunnel. “Whilst we’re talking about Halloween, can I make a confession?”
I raise a brow.
“That night I told you that I’m more observant than people give me credit for . . .” He waits for me to respond.
“Yes, you did say that.”
“It was a fucking lie. I’m sorry. I . . . actually only ever ‘observed’ you.” He laughs. “Honestly, I notice jack shit about anybody else. Never have. Couldn’t give a toss about them. It’s just you. Since you moved to Bath, in fact. I even spent the entire U20 tournament staring at you.”
“I left London for you,” I say, and immediately find a sailboat on the horizon to focus my attention on. My ear has also suddenly become very itchy, so I hand his ice cream back and wiggle my finger in there to avoid his reaction.
I don’t tell him about the solid two years of petitioning—nagging—I did to the Cents’ coaches. Well, to any team in the Westcountry who might find a position for me to slot into, and one that would be less than an hour’s drive fromhim.
Eggo drops his arm over my shoulder, pulls me in, and kisses me . . . somewhere. I’ve got no idea where his kiss lands, but I’m not complaining. “I’m gonna make sure you’re never chasing happiness again. I’ll chase it for you.”
I raise my eyebrows because I sense Eggo’s going to his silly place.
And I’m not wrong.
“I know you’re a winger, but you’ve done enough running,” he says.
We both snort with laughter.
“How have I fallen in love with the cringest man of the century?”
“It’s not your fault, princess. I’m fucking irresistible.”
We don’t talk about us or moving in together or dealing with our teammates and coaches for the rest of the day, but every time I catch Eggo’s eye, a soft smile creases the corner of his mouth.
After the beach, we go back into the clubhouse soft play, and Eggo gives Logan strict instructions to exhaust himself to a point where napping for the duration of the drive home is the only outcome.
“I’m just not sure how much longer I can play ‘what animal am I?’” he says to me, as we sip our zero alcohol beers and use the club’s Wi-Fi to look up other places we can take cute family holidays together.
“How are you feeling about Disneyland Paris?” I ask.
“With you? Piece of piss, mate.”
Cool Down
Cool down 1
Finn
Saturday 25th September 2027
We’re edging into October, but the folks in the stands are all wearing T-shirts and drinking cold pints of lager or cider, the scent of suncream and freshly mown grass hangs in the air, and the sky itself is a cloudless mid-August cerulean.
It’s the first match of the season, it’s a home game, and I’m pleased to report that the lice room meet-up tradition is still going strong.
I mean, how could I not blow my captain on this, his inaugural day as skipper?
“So, Aiden Campbell, our new captain of the Bath Centurions . . .” Lydia smiles into the camera, holding a big blue lollipop of a microphone. Pi’s next to her, squinting against the brightness. The stands cheer, teasing both of their grins wider still.
He looks so fucking edible in his snug little Cents kit, with his ’tash all trimmed up neat and the sides of his head recently shaved, and even though I can’t smell him through the screen, I know that he smells incredible. Like shampoo, and SPF 50, and fresh sweat from warmups. Delicious.
We’re in the locker room getting rubbed down and taped up and dressed in our kits, watching the little TV as it relays what the stadium fans see on their big screens.
