Eggo leans over to me. “Titan was my nan’s beloved Shih Tzu, and Lee decided to give him a haircut two days before Crufts—this massive and very important dog show in Birmingham.”
“You traitor,” Leoni hisses at Eggo. She’s halfway between shock and laughter. “I traded you three months of chores to keep that secret.”
“Leoni Amelia Berkeley nee Eggington!” Fi yells. “You might be twenty-six, but you’re never too old to be in serious trouble, missy! I cut ties because of Trimgate. You told me it was ourDen’s boy, and I’ve been vouching for a fucking criminal all these years.”
Trimgate? I have to pinch my lips together to stop from laughing.
Eggo looks at me, his eyes alight with glee. “I fancy a vape, don’t you?”
“Since when do you vape?” Leoni squeaks. She’s visibly shrinking, sliding down on the leather couch, perhaps hoping it will swallow her whole. “Don’t you dare leave me in this mess.”
“Yeah, bye.” Eggo tugs my arm and pulls me through the kitchen, onto the patio, and into the small back yard. “I’m gonna get such a bollocking for that later,” he says, closing the doors and blocking out most of the noise.
We stay outside until everything is calm again and the cold has seeped through to our bones. Leoni’s punishment is receiving only one Yorkshire pudding and one pig in a blanket with her Christmas dinner instead of the usual Eggington four of each. As predicted, there are too many of us to fit around the table, so anyone younger than thirty is ordered to eat from a tray on their lap in the lounge. It’s a massive weight off my shoulders because I don’t have to pretend I’m enjoying the food in front of the chef and host, and any gross bits of meat I find, I chuck onto Eggo’s plate, which he happily inhales.
I don’t end up using my safe words, but I am so grateful for their existence that every time I think about them, my eyes feel like they might catch on fire.
It’s the early hours of Boxing Day when we arrive back at the hotel, and Eggo and I are too pooped to do anything sexual. We pass out beside each other with Trekkie in the middle of the bed at our feet.
We miss breakfast the next morning, so we grab a McDonald’s on the way to Jody’s house and hang out with them for a couple of hours before heading back up to Bath.
“I’ll navigate you to the A30,” Eggo says, yawning. “Fuck, okay.” He shakes his head, slaps his cheeks. “Maybe we should stop at Taunton Deane and buy coffee.” But he’s snoring before we even get out of the county, and I let him sleep the rest of the journey home, because if he’ll go that far out of his way to make sure I’m at peace, I can at least allow him these few moments.
Chapter 20
Aiden
Friday 9th January 2026
Georgia is very sweet. We had our first date yesterday. A wander around the historical site of The Roman Baths because neither of us have ever been despite living in the city for a couple of years, and then we had a meal at the pub nearthe training grounds because one, it’s pretty fancy, and two, I go there all the time and know the menu by heart.
She’s funny, kind, and beautiful, and we get on well. On paper, Georgia’s ideal. She loves to travel and take photographs. She enjoys trying new things, new foods, meeting new people, and if I’d read all of this on a dating profile, I’d be swiping right.
It’s just . . .
Actually, I don’t know where my hesitancy comes from. We have differences, obviously, and she’s definitely more adventurous than I am, but we are morally, politically, and ethically aligned, and that’s perhaps more important than the fact that her favourite pastime is watching live music. Or that she hates sport—“It’s all sport, though, not just rugby.”Or that she dismisses the entire genre of sci-fi as“snorrendous.”Or that she doesn’t have a favourite dinosaur.
I mean, maybe a twenty-three-year-old shouldn’t be asking another twenty-three-year-old what their favourite dinosaur is, but we were in a place of historic importance and the subject just sort of went there.
“What?”she had said, laughing.“Fuck knows. Is T. rex a dinosaur?”
“Of course,”I’d replied, gritting my teeth together to stop me from blurting,“How the fucking fuck do you not know that T. rex is a dinosaur?”
Is it a deal breaker?
Probably not. It’s probably a sign I need to grow up.
Otherwise, I had a great time. She smells incredible, she’s an amazing kisser and an attentive listener, and maybe I’m too hung up on this imaginary perfect person. But nobody’s perfect. Especially me. Life is a compromise, I guess.
I add my vintage ’90s Alan Grant and Ellie Sattler figurines to the box ofStar Trektoys I’m planning on stashing in theattic, because even though they’re not dinosaurs, they might still inadvertently cock block me.
My phone buzzes from the bed, and I glance over to catch Georgia’s name flash up. She’s been texting me all day, and with each new message an excited thrill vibrates up my spine. We’ve made arrangements to meet next week after the match against Exeter, though this time we’ll be foregoing the cultural enrichment in favour of“just getting pissed instead.”
It’s fine, whatever. I can adapt. I’ve spent my entire life adapting. I’m an expert at it by this point.
Downstairs, the doorbell rings and my heartbeat goes into overdrive. I fix my hair, fix my mo, and open the door to Eggo. It’s dark and raining—obviously, it’s Britain—but Eggo’s hair is still pretty dry, so he must have legged it from his car.
“Alright, pard,” he says, pushing inside.
