The music cranks back up, and I lose my normal rigid self.After fifteen minutes of merriment, the manager and I are called into the press conference room to answer questions.The smile on my face is stretching from ear to ear as I take a seat behind the table, placing our newly won trophy on top of it.
“Kyle, how are you?”one smiling female reporter asks.
“Brilliant,” I say, shooting a smile back to her.
“You and your team will go down in history.How does that feel?”
“It’s cliche, but I’ve dreamed about this moment since I was a kid, and to actually do it…” I take a look at the trophy and touch it.“Wow, it’s amazing.I can’t describe it.”
“You’ve beaten childhood friend AJ to the title, and with a date for the final of the European Cup coming up, how confident are you going into that match?”says a reporter in the middle row in an ill-fitting suit and slicked back hair.For a moment, the word “date” throws me, and it takes a minute for me to compose myself.“For me, each game is a cup final.This match would be no different.I’m out here to prove that I’m the best.”
A guy in a tight white shirt and cargo trousers stands up and says, “Does it feel like redemption after he assaulted you all those weeks ago?”
This bullshit again.I will not rise to the bait.I will be a good person and show the media I am a good person.Deep breath.Deeeeep.Breathhhhhh.
“All questions about that have been previously answered.If you cannot find it, you can go online to any interview AJ or I did over the past few weeks, and trust me, there’s plenty.Now, can we let the real journalists ask the questions, please?”
The guy—now with a face as red as the devil—sits down without uttering another word.I get an approving nod from my manager, and he wraps up the press conference.I stand up with him, and we both leave, heading back into the locker room.The party has been taken elsewhere, and it’s the two of us.We take a seat on one of the benches, moving discarded clothes out of the way.
“You handled yourself well out there,” he says with a smile.
“Thank you.I’m sure he’ll be on social media tonight with his six burner accounts and write loads of stuff about me, but I don’t care.I really don’t.”
“Put it all to the back of your mind and revel in what you have accomplished this season.”He claps me on the back, stands up and says, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a thirty-year-old scotch waiting for me and a chat with Patrick.”
Hearing him say the name of the opposition manager so openly catches me off guard for a moment.It’s a tradition my manager has, where after every game—win, lose, or draw—he will invite them into his office and shoot the shit over an old drink or two.It’s whathismanager used to do, back in the glory days.
I sit in silence in the empty locker room and take it all in.Champion.A word I always hoped would be used to describe me, but didn’t always think it would be attainable.And now I am.I also scored the most goals, making me the Golden Boot winner too.One more trophy still to play for, and then the Global Cup.I could end up being a champion three times over in one season.Hell, I could even be a three-time Golden Boot winner in one season.That would be unprecedented.That would be historic.
AJ
Sitting on the sofa with one of Trish’s protein shakes, and watching the news unfold of Kyle’s team winning the league doesn’t sting as much as I thought it would.The second goal was superb, and the commentators are purring all over it, saying it’s one of the best winning goals they’ve ever seen.I can’t disagree with them.
The sound of the front door drags my attention away from the screen and moments later, Kyle is in the living room doorway.That huge dorky smile on his face that I love so much is on full show.“What are you doing here?I thought you’d be out celebrating?”
“I’d rather be here with you,” he says and slides onto the sofa next to me.I wrap him up in a bear hug and kiss the top of his head.“Congratulations on winning, well everything,” I say with only the smallest amount of jealousy.I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t even a tiny bit, but my pride for him outweighs everything.
“Thank you.Still more to play for though,” he says, kissing the bridge of my nose.
“It doesn’t matter.I’ve already won the best thing,”
“Don’t say it.Don’t say the cheesy line Iknowyou’re going to say.”He smirks at me.
“What?All I’m going to say is you’re the priz—” My words are taken away from me by his hands on my mouth.He lies on top of me, using his smaller frame to try and stop me.I laugh and pick him up and carry him like he’s a child.
“Put me down,” he demands through laughter.
“What?I’m showing off my greatest prize!”I say, hoisting him up in the air like he is a piece of silverware.
“I swear to god, AJ, I will fart on your head.You cheesy cockwomble.”
I crumble like an accordion, and drop him on the sofa.We’re both in a fit of hysterics, tears of joy streaming from our eyes.
“Okay, truce,” I say, heaving him onto my lap and kissing him on the lips.
“Truce,” he says, kissing me back and sliding his tongue into my mouth, quickly finding mine.His muscular jean clad legs wrap around my body as he deepens the kiss, pulling back only to take his T-shirt off, revealing the now familiar sight of his perfect abs.I respond by taking my own off before lifting him up and carrying him intoourbedroom.I place him on the bed gently and slide on top of him.I kiss his chest, undo the button of his jeans, and take them off.His dick stands proud, peeking out of his red Calvins.
“You’re a man of your word,” he says, his breath catches in his throat at the end, as I place my hand under the waistband of his boxers and slowly take them off.
