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There was a chance. A small one, but a chance nonetheless.
He’d take it.
11
“Iknow it’s not France or Brazil.” Kieran leaned forward, his expression uncommonly serious, no trace of his usual smile. “But let’s not underestimate the US here. It’s been a decade since they made it past the round of sixteen, granted—but we don’t want to open the door and tell them to walk right on through to the quarter final. Their style has evolved, their players are internationally successful, and their coach knows what he’s doing.”
Well,yeah.
Alex didn’t think anyone in the room really needed to hear that. Then again, complacency was why the Japan match had ended in a tie, so maybe they deserved this reminder.
Across the table, he caught Lee glancing at him and let the corners of his own mouth tug up in response. He’d forgotten to set his alarm for the first time in years, and by the time Lee had gently shaken him awake, Alex had been running twenty minutes behind schedule. A ten-second, toothpaste-flavoured snog against the door had been the extent of their morning action.
“So,” Kieran said right into the little quiver of remembered heat in Alex’s stomach. “Gentlemen, I need yousharp.”
With just a hint of guilt, Alex focused back on Kieran.
The next hour was spent reviewing key players of the US team, along with the strategic cornerstones of how they’d played their three group-stage matches, two of which they’d won. Alex spent the team’s half-hour break with Jeff, debating the best ways to navigate the possession-oriented style of their upcoming opponent, along with rumours that Prince Joshua would show up for the match. Since Alex’s father hadn’t called to bemoan the prince’s lack of decorum, Alex rated the likelihood as fairly low.
Training started with anEconomistarticle on sportswashing, which was slightly awkward given the national team encompassed players from both Manchester City and Newcastle United, proudly owned by Abu Dhabi and Saudi Arabia. It did lead to possibly the most spirited discussion so far though, from the pros and cons of holding major sports tournaments in autocratic countries that wanted to polish their image, to star athletes being offered ridiculous sums to attend events in questionable locations.
“Everyone’s got a price.” Lee was the one who’d stated it. “It’s a lot easier to turn down three million dollars to play in some Saudi golf tournament if you’re Tiger Woods than it is to turn down one million if you’re a player with a net worth of, say, five per cent of what he’s got. For Woods, three million might mean hush money for another waitress, but for some other guy, one million could be setting the parents up for retirement.”
“What’syourprice, then?” Lewis asked with a massive grin.
“Much more than you can afford, mate,” Lee returned.
Kieran gave them a minute to sling some insults around before he clapped his hands and called an official start to practice. As they split into smaller groups for the warm-up exercises, Alex brushed by Lee. It was the kind of thing that happened a dozen times with teammates during training, but they both paused for a beat and a smile before they kept moving.
Ninety minutes later, they returned to their room to shower and get changed before lunch. Alex hesitated at the foot of his bed, then slowly turned to watch Lee close the door to the hallway. They were both sweaty and covered in grass stains, which put them on equal footing.
So Alex walked right into Lee’s space, stopping just before making contact. Lee’s response consisted of a head tilt combined with a raised eyebrow that conveyed an unspoken challenge.
“Tell me, then.” Alex hooked a finger into the waistband of Lee’s shorts. “Whatisyour price?”
Eyes darkening, Lee angled his hips forward just slightly. “I’m open to negotiation.”
“Are you.” Alex made it a statement rather than a question and pressed closer, Lee’s hands coming up to grip his waist. “Price of a joint shower?”
“On the house.” Lee grinned, a mischievous edge to it. “Help the planet by saving some water—it’s a win-win.”
“Oliver would approve.”
“Oliver does, in fact, approve.” One of Lee’s hands slid under Alex’s jersey, smoothing up along the curve of Alex’s spine. “He’s the one who told me to give this a shot. Shelly did, too.”
So that was why Lee had changed his mind? Alex owed Oliver one, it seemed.
“You’ve got excellent taste in friends and siblings,” Alex told Lee just before he kissed the spot under Lee’s ear and found salty skin, Lee’s breath escaping in a rush.
“I’m pretty gross,” Lee warned even as he angled his head to grant better access.
“So am I. Hence, shower.” Alex lifted his head and smiled in a way that brought out his dimples—he’d worked hard on his ability to be charming, might as well put it to good use.
With a snort, Lee removed his hand from Alex’s waist and brought it up between them. “I bet” —he poked a dimple— “that this got you out of all sorts of trouble when you were little.”
“Eh. I was a pretty quiet child.”
“You were?” Lee seemed to slot a new mental puzzle piece into place.
