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Something changed in Shelly’s stance. “Oh. So you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” Lee said quickly. “Just reasonably cautious. I don’t want to get sidetracked by something that won’t go anywhere.”
Shelly tipped up her chin. “You’re scared you’ll care more than he does.”
“We’re at very different points. He has zero experience with a guy and is kind of curious—which I get, right?—and me, I might actually want to come out at some point. Not tomorrow or anything, but at some point.”
“That’s a non-answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’ll get.” Time to shut this down. Lee wasn’t opposed to unpacking his emotions, but if it exceeded the frame of what was relevant to his performance on the field, he preferred to do so with a cold beer in his hand. Or a shot of vodka.
“For now, maybe.” Shelly’s smile was sweet enough to induce a sugar coma. “Let’s see how you feel when the party’s over.”
“Speaking of…” Lee opened the door and motioned for Shelly to get a move on. “We’re late.”
“Late? To aparty?” Shelly tossed him a haughty look. “You don’t get out much, do you?”
“I’m not sure which part of ‘professional athlete’ suggested heavy drinking and partying to you—”
“Didn’t the Mexican team invite, like, thirty hookers to some team event a few years back?”
“Exceptions prove the rule.”
They took the lift down to the ground floor and exited into a tiered garden, olive trees lit against the night sky, string lights woven among their branches. A bar was set against the backdrop of the sea, soft music playing from speakers, players and their families mingling with the team’s support staff.
“This is what counts as a party?” Shelly asked in an undertone.
“We only made it to the round of sixteen,” Lee told her. “It’s back to training tomorrow, and no one wants to do that on a hangover, trust me.”
“Lame.” She was smiling, though, and when he slung an arm around her shoulders, she leaned into him for a moment. “Congrats, by the way. Two goals—not bad for such a loser.”
“That’s what I said,” Alex commented from behind them. “Also, nice outfit.”
Which was when Lee realised a gross oversight on his part, namely not developing an emergency plan for when Shelly would meet Alex. Not that Alex didn’t already know that Lee fancied him, but, still. This was some kind of disaster just waiting to happen.
Shelly shrugged off Lee’s arm to turn around, and Lee turned with her.
“Alex, right?” The predatory edge to Shelly’s grin suggested she knew exactly who Alex was. “My brother keeps mentioning you.”
“That’s a gross exaggeration,” Lee protested.
“Well, seeing as we’re sharing a room…” Alex affected a self-deprecating shrug, the gentle glow of string lights above them sparking in his hair. “Hopefully nothing too incriminating.”
“You’re sharing a room?” Shelly fixed Lee with a hard stare, and shit, he’d hoped to get away with not mentioning that. His sisters’ teasing would know no mercy. “But you always share with Oliver.”
“Coach’s orders.” Lee shifted his weight, scratching his cheek as he avoided Alex’s eyes. “Kieran thought Alex and I needed a nudge to…”
“Learn how to like each other,” Alex finished, warmth tucked into his voice. “Worked like a charm.”
“Who says I like you?” Lee asked.
Alex flashed him a radiant smile. “You did.”
Lee was relieved from having to answer when Jeff joined them, Marco in tow who’d returned for the match. Oliver and Sanna weren’t far behind, followed by Lewis with his girlfriend, and then there were toasts to the gods of football and laughter and rehashing of particular scenes. A mix of relief and gleeful expectation hung in the air, another group starting to chant about how it was coming home even though they weren’t even halfway there, would need four more wins to the title.
Knockout stage. No second chances, no do-overs. Drama and penalty shootouts and the pressure cranked up to thirteen, tens of millions watching every game.
Five days to the next match.
