AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s your fault for existing.”
“Fuck you.” Anger flared in his gaze. Jerking upwards, he sent me flying to the side and climbed to his feet. “Leave me the fuck alone.” He stalked out of the barn, only pausing to retrieve his cap from the floor.
When I caught up with the others, Rory was asking Jordan how he’d managed to get so dirty. As he took in my appearance, his brows pulled together, his mouth thinning.
Jordan followed his gaze, and he smirked. I wanted to smack that smirk off his face. “It was my fault. We were, uh, looking at the Jersey cows, and I was…I was leaning on a barn door that gave way. I grabbed onto Theo to stay upright, but I accidentally took him down with me.”
I nodded, balling my fists at my sides, forcing myself to appear calm and unaffected. “He’s right. It was an accident.”
Rory clearly didn’t believe us, but he didn’t say anything else, no doubt because the photographer was pointing his lens in our direction. After I’d shaken the straw out of my hair and brushed myself off with the help of Amir, the photographer had us pose in front of the field of rare breed sheep. Seeming to sense that both Jordan and I were rapidly reaching the end of our tethers, Rory suggested skipping the café, instead ushering us into the farm shop to purchase some of the local goods.
“Organic, local cider. Bottled right here on the farm.” Jordan held up a dark brown bottle. “This looks good. I might get some for my dad.” Had he forgotten our animosity? Clearly so, because he continued speaking as if I was interested in the drivel coming from his mouth. “You getting anything for your parents?”
My estranged parents? “Fuck off,” I muttered, pushing past him and exiting the shop.
I’d had enough of Jordan Emery.
All I wanted to do was to go home and forget this day had ever happened.
8
JORDAN
The football season was flying by, and I was loving every minute—except for those spent in Theodore Lewin’s presence, but that was a given. Ever since our staged photo op at the farm, we’d done our best to avoid each other, but that wasn’t practical when we played on the same team in almost the same position. I always felt his anger and resentment simmering under the surface, and I knew he was aware of mine, too. It wasn’t ever going to go away.
There was one other small problem marring my season, and for a change, it wasn’t a Theo-related problem. This one was all down to me. When I’d received the first payment from my endorsements, I’d put down a deposit on a house. It was a modern, detached place in a private development. It had come fully furnished, and it was close enough to get to Glevum’s training grounds and the stadium in under twenty minutes. All good. The downside…I’d hosted a few parties in my new place…or more than a few…and they’d drawn the attention of the media. Now, I had a reputation as a party boy, in addition to the rumours that still swirled around me and Theo. Several girls had sold me out, which had never happened before—probably because no one would’ve been interested in a League Two player, as well as several anonymous sources who I just knew were my disgruntled neighbours, and so there were rumours flying around about sex and alcohol and things that weren’t good when you were supposed to be a role model for kids.
It was so fucking hard to find a balance, though. Having a full house was great because it meant that I forgot how lonely I felt at times. Maybe “lonely” wasn’t the right word. It was more of an emotional support thing, I guessed. Yeah, I had Rory and my dad, but Rory had a lot of other commitments, and my dad had his own life.
With my dad, having his own life wasn’t even the issue. I’d never begrudge him that. Why would I? I was an adult, after all, and I wouldn’t expect his world to revolve around me. I supposed it was mostly the fact that he wasn’t the sort to show emotion. If he had emotions, he kept them locked down, unless it came to his beloved football. I’d seen him scream and shout and cry for his team. But in every other aspect of his life, he came across as quite emotionless. I knew that was the way he was raised, and it was how all his friends were, too, so it was nothing out of the ordinary. But it might’ve been nice to get a hug once in a while instead of a brief clap on the back. I knew without a doubt that he was proud of me, though, and he’d never given me any reason to doubt his support. I had more than a lot of people did, so I reminded myself to be grateful. Not only that, but my online fans were also great at getting behind me and supporting me with their comments and messages.
Other than the increased interest from the tabloids, things were good. Really fucking good. Glevum were currently ninth in the league, and if we managed to keep up our current streak, we might actually have a real shot at qualifying for the European tournaments. After today’s match against Nottingham Forest, I had an interview withOffsidemagazine, which was one of the country’s most respected football magazines with a huge online presence. That would raise my profile even more. I’d already been interviewed by them once over the phone, but this time, they were sending their digital editor to speak to me. The original, small feature they’d planned was being expanded to fill two issues, and there was already a lot of online buzz surrounding it.
I pushed all my thoughts of interviews and tabloids from my mind as I walked down the tunnel. It wasn’t hard to slip into focus mode, concentrating fully on the upcoming match. According to the odds, it should be an easy win for us, but that was the thing about football—you could never take anything for granted. This was a crucial match. If we did manage to win, we’d move into the eighth position in the league, and we’d be one step closer to our goal.
Playing at home was unparalleled. Knowing you had the home fans behind you, on your own turf, where you were comfortable…there was nothing like it. And that was why a loss at home was even harder to take than an away loss. But I was going to do everything I could to make sure we got a win.
When the game started, I was fully focused on the ball, always ready to receive it and pass to Reuben or to take my own opportunity to take a shot at a goal. The first half passed in a blur, and by the time the whistle blew, we were winning, 1–0. Theo had been the one to score the goal, and I wasn’t even pissed off about it. We needed this win too badly. It didn’t matter who scored.
Except it did, and I fucked up. Badly. The series of events began two minutes into the second half, when Nottingham Forest managed to score. Harvey shouted instructions from the sidelines, telling us to push forwards, to move into an attacking formation. He subbed one of our defenders, and we threw everything we had into scoring another goal.
Nottingham Forest weren’t going down without a fight, though. Their defence was all over Reuben, and when Grant booted the ball to me with just two minutes remaining on the clock, I could instantly see that there was no way I could pass to Reuben without the ball going to our opponents. Fuck. I glanced to my left, across the field, and that was when I saw Theo, wide open.
But if I passed to him, he’d score two goals, and he’d make my life unbearable.
I made a split-second decision, and instead of passing to him, I aimed the ball at the top-right corner of the goal.
It curved over the heads of the players, aiming exactly where I wanted it. Until one of Nottingham Forest’s defenders leapt into the air, heading the ball away from the goal, and it was kicked out of play.
Fuck.
“What the fuck, Jordan?” Theo stormed over to me, shoving at my chest, practically spitting in my face. “I was wide open! There was no way I would’ve missed from my position, and now you’ve cost us the fucking match!”
“Fuck off!” Grabbing a handful of his shirt, I pushed him right back, lunging forwards as I did so, getting in his face. “I had a good chance, and I took it.”
“You arrogant bastard! There was zero chance of you scoring!” He shoved at me again, and suddenly, I was being tugged backwards by Reuben while Grant was holding Theo in place. The whistle blew, and the ref jogged over. The roaring in my ears drowned out his words, but I clearly saw when he reached into his pocket and withdrew a yellow card, which he held in the air, first in my direction, then Theo’s.
Fucking fuck.
