15. Tate
TATE
I watched Vince walk away from the team meeting, with anger pulsing through me. Standing there, a gawping at him, almost on the verge of tears, I hear is words echoing through my head again and again.
I had a plan to talk to him today, but every time I looked at him, he was adamantly not looking at me.
I didn't realise he still had his heart set on this stupid fucking plan. Here, I’d spent the last few days processing the time I have had with Vince and thinking about what it is I really want. And what I wanted?
Him.
All of him. Everything with him.
Why?
Because I was in love with him.
If it wasn't for the amount of times that he’s shown me that he loves me—shown me what it's like to be cared for, to be cherished, to be known by someone? I don’t know if I could have gotten here.
The way that he has shown me what it is to be loved, helped me accept being with him.
I've never thought about a man like that before, and I don't know if I ever would again.
But Vince?
Yeah. Fuck, yes, I think about him that way.
I think about all the times that we've shared together, laughing on the couch, throwing popcorn when the other one's talking too much during a movie.
I think about how I massaged his leg when it was playing up.
I think about all the times that we fooled around together on his couch, on the spare bed that I claimed as mine.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn’t want this with me, but at least he could have had the conversation with me.
It's a cold, hard pill to swallow.
Here I was thinking that we were forming something real, forming something that would be long lasting. And to find out—along with everyone else—that he’s just here telling everyone we're done.
I can feel my teammates’ eyes on me, but the silence is deafening.
I can’t blame them for wanting to know more, but right now, I cannot handle their jibes or judgement.
“What are you still doing here, Stone?” Jonesy says, breaking the silence.
“I… I…” I stammer out, gesturing after Vince.
“Unstick your feet and go get your man,” he continues, clapping me on the shoulder.
I shake my head, turning to meet Jonesy’s gaze, seeing understanding and encouragement in his eyes.
What am I still doing here?
Taking off at a jog, I do the first smart thing since this team huddle started, and I chase after my man.
Adrenaline pumps through me, fuelled by fear of losing him and anger that he could just walk away from us.
I check his office first, but that’s empty. I push into the locker room next, the door slamming against the wall.
Relief and tension fill me when I see Vince standing across the room, his back to me.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask, my loud voice echoing through the room.
Vince spins around, pinching the bridge of his nose. I have seen that expression so many times on the sidelines that it warms something inside of me.
“What do you mean, what was that? That was what you wanted, isn't it?” Vince asks. “All I want right now, Tate, is some space. So that I can just calm down and get through things, okay?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, needing to hear him tell me that he’s done.
“That's probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, Tate, but I did that because that's what you wanted. okay? I just need to have some time alone so that I can just come to terms with everything. Can’t you just give me that?”
“What I wanted?” I scoff, “When the fuck did I tell you that's what I wanted?”
“That was always the plan, Tate. You never wanted this—wanted me!” Vince all but yells.
I stalk towards him. “You want to know what I want?”
“I know what you want. I just did what you wanted! This is always what you wanted. We were temporary. We were convenient,” he spits out.
“You can’t be serious!” I seethe, “You have to have realised that was an excuse!”
“Of course it was an excuse. This whole relationship has been to save face. But it’s over now. So, if you don’t mind, kindly fuck off so I can start moving on from you,” Vince’s loud voice bounces around us, his chest heaving as he pants, eyes suspiciously glinting in the light.
And just like that, all the anger flies out of me.
Because I know that expression. I know the way he is holding back his emotions, can see the way he is trying to control the situation. Can see the hurt shimmering in his eyes that is reflecting the pain inside me.
“If you’d known what I wanted,” I say softly. “That fucking statement would have been the last thing on your mind today. What I want, Vince? …I want you.”
“Tate…” Vince whispers, eyes wide.
“You, Vince. I want you to keep you. I don't want to lose you,” I say, walking until I am standing directly in front of him.
“But… but you—you left!”
“I just wanted to go talk to Dad and get his advice about how to talk to you about this whole situation. You told me not to come back. I wanted to come home to you. The last few days without you have been agony.”
“You… home…” Vince’s eyes still shimmer, but I can see the hope budding there, and I know that he has been putting my desires first, just like he always does. But instead of sexual ones this time, he is putting what he thought I wanted—what the plan was—over his emotions, and over what he wanted.
“You’re it for me, Vince,” I breathe, running my fingers down his cheek. “It might not have started off the most romantic way, it might have taken me a while to get there, but there’s nothing I want more than for you to be mine.”
“Y-you do?”
“Yep,” I fist his shirt, pulling him closer to me. “Do you have any objections to that?”
“N-no.” He pants.
“Good,” I push against him, backing him into the lockers. “I want you, Vince Anderson. I want to suck your dick any day that I want. I wanna fuck you. I want to be fucked by you. I want to live with you. I want to build a life with you.”
“Yes,” Vince sighs with hearts in his eyes.
His hands fall to my waist, and I can’t hold back any longer.
Cupping his face, my hands in his hair, I pull him into me, crushing his mouth with mine. It’s not the smoothest kiss, but fuck me if it’s not the best kiss of my life.
It’s hard and fast, it’s sweet and precious.
It’s everything.
It’s me and Vince.
He pulls back slightly, panting as he rests his forehead against mine.
“H-how long have you wanted this?” Vince asks, his lips close enough that they brush mine as he speaks.
“I've wanted to since the day I've realised that you wanted me,” I admit. “It might sound vain, but when I saw your feelings… when I realised that you genuinely liked me for me… loved me… desired me… I saw you in a new light. And I have been falling in love with you ever since.”
“I've been trying to hold myself back to not make you feel obligated to be with me. I've been trying,” Vince breaks off with a slight chuckle.
“Been trying to what? I ask.
“I've been trying to protect myself for when this eventually blew up in my face.
Tate, I have been falling in love with you for over a year.
I've been slowly going more and more obsessed with you, following you around and realising that holy shit, I have feelings for one of my players, and then I can't do anything about it.
All I saw at the time was you having women on your arm.
But that day—that day at the premiership, I was so proud of you.
I was so fucking proud of you to see you score that winning goal and did such a magnificent job.
All I wanted to do was congratulate you.
All I wanted to do was hug you, to hold you to me, and just share in that experience with you.
Yeah, I got drunk because I couldn't do that.
Yeah, I made some decisions where I commented on a post that you made because you posted some other fucking people and I was jealous.
All I wanted all this time, all I've wanted was to be with you, to be yours.”
“Well, then why can't you fucking be mine?” I groan, cupping his face and pulling back enough so I can look into his eyes. “Why can't you? Why did you tell everyone that we broke up?”
“Because I'm afraid you'll break my heart,” he says in a small voice.
“You hold a lot of power over me, Tate Stone. You’ve held my heart in your hand for a long time, you didn't even know it. It’s been bruised and it battered.
I had to hold myself back because I didn't think I could keep you.
I didn't think that I could have you. Because I thought this was just temporary.
I don't sleep by your side in bed because I know that I'll get used to it and I won't be able to survive without you when you go.
That's why I was reminding us that we needed to end it because I can't do holding back anymore.
I can't do preserving myself anymore.” He waves towards the field, “That was my last ditch effort to preserve myself, to preserve my mentality.”
“But you don’t need to,” I groan into his mouth as I slam my lips against him.
I need him. I tangle my tongue with his, tasting him and devouring him.
Because if what he said is true, I'm not going to let him hold back anymore either.
I claim his mouth in a kiss that's so passionate, so deep, so filled with angst and longing and bittersweet desire. That I almost... my brain stops working as my cock hardens, and all my blood rushes south.
“Tate,” he pants into my mouth.
“Yeah. Vin,” I moan.
“What are you doing?”
“Kissing you, baby,” I say.
“But we're in the locker room,” he groans.
“Yes, we are. Haven’t you ever thought about having me here?” I tease, enjoying the breathy moan he lets out.
His mouth moves to my neck, to my ear. Following all of the erogenous zones that he's already found several times before.
And as much as I love his mouth on my skin, I need it on my mouth.
I need to taste him. I need to devour him.
Cupping his face. I pull his mouth back to mine.
His hands fall to my pecks, thumbs brushing gently at my nipples through my training singlet.