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“Thanks, Lee,” Alex said then, hardly above a whisper.
“I’m not trying to butter you up,” Lee told him. “Just calling it like I see it, yeah?”
“Thanks for talking to me, though. It’s not…” Alex paused. “You didn’t have to. Last I checked, it wasn’t part of the roommate job description.”
“Nah, but it’s part of the being-a-decent-human-being job description.” Lee dropped his head back onto the pillow, suppressing a yawn. Their alarm would go off at seven thirty, and then it was breakfast, a brief strategy session, and off to a hotel near Valencia so they’d arrive with plenty of time to spare. “Still nervous?”
Alex rolled onto his back. “Yeah. Maybe ten per cent less than before.”
“Think you’ll be able to get some sleep, then?”
A second passed as Alex considered it. “Possibly.”
“Mission accomplished.” Lee should leave it at that. If he didn’t want Alex sticking his nose into Lee’s family business, it was only fair he showed Alex the same courtesy—after all, Alex had pried only a little a few days ago, after Lee’s fleeting need to vent to someone, anyone,about Brandon’s outlandish belief that he deserved to weasel around his daughters when he’d been a grown-arse man leaving a bunch of kids at the mercy of someone he openly called a nutcase. Maybe his regrets would ring a little more true if they hadn’t coincided with Lee being promoted from the Under 21s to the national team.
Anyway. The point was that Lee shouldn’t stick his nose where it didn’t belong. He had approximately zero credentials when it came to counselling others on healthy family dynamics.
And yet.
“Hey, and just so you know…” Lee raised his head to peer at Alex’s side of the room, making out the dim glow of a bare chest. “Your parents are wrong. You absolutely belong on that pitch—can’t think of a better place for you.”
It was too dark to see Alex’s smile, but it shone in his voice. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well.” Abruptly self-conscious, Lee dropped his head back down. “Now go to fucking sleep, okay?”
“Okay,” Alex echoed softly, and it took only minutes for his breathing to even out. For once, Lee wasn’t far behind.
5
Posted by @AlexanderBeaufort (June 14, 5:33 p.m.):
Been trying to convey the finer points of fashion to @LeeJTaylor who maintains that joggers and a plain t-shirt constitute style. Not so. If we win our first match, I get to dress him for the party - suggest outfits, please!
The game was a rush.Adrenaline bubbling in Alex’s blood, the roar of the crowd in his ears, some kind of mathematical magic in how his subconscious predicted the path of the ball and how it would intersect with friend and foe.
And they won.
Theywon.
3:1, with Lee scoring two goals, Jeff one, and Alex himself racking up two assist points. Lee had been right—Alex had been part of the starting eleven. He’d been subbed out some ten minutes before the end for Alfie, more defence-oriented than Alex and brought in to lock down the score and see the game through.
It was a noisy bus ride to the seafront hotel that would host the team for the night, much closer to the stadium than their regular hotel, with individual rooms that allowed for having partners and family over. Alex’s pulse still raced with residual adrenaline and excitement, barely able to sit still for the twenty-minute drive. Next to him, Jeff was rehashing his goal to anyone who would listen in between texting Marco, his youngest brother, who’d come out to watch the game.
Once they arrived, everyone gathered on the beach for a small celebration with visiting partners and other family, their usual curfew suspended for the night. Kieran held a speech while players’ kids were running over the sand, the sky a rich black, torches flickering in a gentle breeze from the sea, and a DJ playing lounge music at a low volume. After that, Alex drifted from group to group for a bit, his smile just about tattooed on his face, laughing and clinking bottles of their sponsor’s non-alcoholic beer which was either growing on him or it was euphoria altering his taste buds. He ended up chatting with Lewis, who was in a good mood even though as a backup keeper, the only way he’d get even a minute of playtime was if something happened to Oliver.
“It’s what I signed up for,” Lewis said with a shrug. “Do I want to be out there on the pitch? Fuck yeah. But Kieran didn’t invite me along so I’d be a whiny bitch. Right now, my job is to cheer the team on and keep Oliver on his toes ‘cause he knows that the moment he falters, I’m gonna be there.”
“That’s the spirit, mate.” Lee had wandered over just in time to catch Lewis’s speech and raised his bottle in a salute. His white button-down fit him just the way Alex had hoped it would, short sleeves granting a glimpse of toned biceps and the ink swirling up one upper arm, dark jeans hugging Lee’s muscular thighs, naked toes digging into the sand. The warm torchlight gleamed on his face and darkened his eyes. He looked … well.
Yeah.
Maybe Alex had done a slightly too good job of picking Lee’s outfit for his own peace of mind. At least he wasn’t the only one to appreciate Lee bypassing his functional wear for once—Marco had given Lee an obvious once-over earlier and winked when he’d noticed Alex catching him in the act. Sometimes, Alex wondered whether Marco suspected that Alex wasn’t entirely straight. Just because Alex had no gaydar to speak of didn’t make it a myth.
“It’s the only fucking spirit there is,” Lewis said, toasting Lee, only to frown down at his beer. “Except this tastes like arse. I’d much rather sit a dent into the bench than live on this shite for weeks to come. In the interest of team morale, backup plans like me should get to drink whatever the hell we want.”
“It’s notthatbad,” Alex said, and both Lee and Lewis turned to him with matching expressions of shock. Lee reached out to feel Alex’s forehead, seeming to realise what he’d done at the same time as Alex did. Briefly, they stared at each other, then Lee dropped his hand.
“No fever,” Lee said airily. “I reckon the adrenaline’s gone to his head.”
