Chapter 4
Marlon
The new year has rolled around and not much has changed.
That’s not true. Everything has changed.
But also nothing.
I still live with Clara and she’s still the bane of my existence. Ever since she figured out my sexuality before I did, she’s been insufferable. I love her to pieces, of course, but she’s so…smug.
“Mar!” It’s as if my thoughts have conjured her, shouting from the living room. “Get your gay ass out here, let’s watch a movie!”
I roll my eyes and slouch down further on my bed, pretending I didn’t hear her.
She says she wants to watch a movie, but in reality she’ll bring out her phone and pretend-casually show me her uni friends.
Male uni friends. She’s been true to her word and there haven’t been any further dates, but she’s not done meddling, apparently.
As if having sex has magically transformed me into another person; one who enjoys meeting strangers and making small talk. I pull the hood of my jumper up and close my eyes, burrowing into the comforting warmth. I’m still the same homebody I’ve always been and I wish Clara would understand.
So maybe I am into men. But I still need to focus on my career and I need to be bloody careful with who I date.
Discovering my gayness has not made life as a professional footballer any easier, considering how taboo the topic still is.
The sport’s fixation on hyper masculinity and all its components is ridiculous.
All the more so now that I know it applies to me.
I’ve narrowed down my porn searches to man-on-man action, and I enjoyed touching Freddie.
Very much. I’m also still a great defender who can tackle any opponent who comes too close to my goal.
I’m the same muscular, talented, ruthless man I was before.
Literally nothing has changed except who I want to have sex with.
Or not.
I have no desire for a repeat of that night with Freddie.
My stomach ties itself into a knot and I sigh. Okay, yes. I have no desire to repeat any of it…except if it were with Freddie.
“I know you can hear me!” Clara’s voice slices through my thoughts. “Come on!”
Christ. She’s relentless. “Leave me alone!” I yell, like a sullen teenager.
Then I find headphones and put them on, but I pause before I can turn on the music. Because Freddie is on my mind. Again. He’s been there a lot; more than he should.
He made it clear that our night together was a one-time thing. He helped me figure things out, nothing more, nothing less. Besides, he has a girlfriend. And sure, apparently Hadidja is cool about all this, but still. I doubt she’d want repeats.
So I tell myself I don’t want them, either. Make sure I don’t look at him when he’s half-naked in the dressing room, wet skin and easy laughs and messy hair. Make sure our interactions remain friendly, but no more than that.
Because as soon as I let my mind linger even for a second, it takes me right back to that hotel room. His lips on my skin, his soft laugh. The way he looked at me like I was something precious. How everything tilted sideways the moment his mouth closed—
I’m doing it again.
Fuck.
I grab my Switch instead, determined to distract myself, but when the Breath of the Wild soundtrack starts playing, I’ve already lost focus again.
I don’t want to explore Hyrule; I want to go back to that hotel room and explore Freddie.
I want to feel the way I did when he held me. Caressed me. Just one more time.
If only I hadn’t been such a bundle of nerves.
Looking back on that night, it’s the only thing that embarrasses me.
How out of my depth I was, how awkward. I hate not being good at things.
Even if Freddie hadn’t thought of it as a one-time thing before, I’m sure my patheticness would have made him change his mind.
There must be a way to get better. And I don’t mean porn; I’m very good at that.
But actual, real connection, another man to touch.
I want to figure out if other men even do it for me or if Freddie is the odd one out.
What turns me on? What other things are there that we haven’t tried?
There must be ways to do it. Freddie said something about him hooking up, right?
It sounds bloody dangerous but I’m also reckless enough to try it.
Because I obviously can’t do anything with Freddie.
And, to be honest, sure I play for Westfield’s first team now, but I’m still a nobody. There must be so many men out there who don’t care about football and won’t recognise me. Right? Men I can figure things out with, no feelings, no strings. Hook up and move on.
I should look into that.
“Marlon!” Clara sing-songs, closer now. She’s come to hunt her prey. “There’s no escape!”
Well, at least she’s honest. “Bugger off!” I know she won’t listen to me anyway, but I at least have to try.
She’s great and takes care of me in so many ways, but figuring myself out around her is…
difficult. I understand that this is her way of showing me she cares, but maybe she could care a little less, sometimes.
It would be impossible to bring anyone home, for example.
She’d give me a Cheshire cat grin in the morning and ask questions that would make me blush.
My phone lights up and for an insane, hopeful moment, I think it’s Freddie.
It’s not. I curse at myself for even thinking about it.
With a sigh, I delete the pop-up notification from one of my game apps and close my eyes. Damn my heart and that telltale lurch. Freddie is a bad idea for so, so many reasons.
I need to focus on finding another man to—
Clara pops her head round the door without knocking. “What’s taking you so long?”
I grab a pillow and throw it at her, but she laughs and dodges it easily. “Come on!” She holds her hand out to me and I resign myself to my fate, scrambling to get up from the bed.
Maybe I should get a dildo.
Clara shows up at our training grounds on a Thursday afternoon, grabbing the attention of probably a dozen of my teammates.
She does look very pretty in her fitted wool coat and rose-coloured hat, blond hair falling down her back.
I jog over to her, a little gross in comparison in my sweaty training gear.
“Hey.” I smile, genuinely happy to see her.
When she’s not meddling with my love life, I love her to pieces. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She smiles back and pushes the strap of her leather messenger bag up her shoulder. “Uni’s done for the week,” she says. “I’m heading out for pho with a couple of my mates, thought you’d like to join us.”
Oh. I’m genuinely taken aback, but in a good way.
That’s nice of her. We have a home game tomorrow, so I was planning on a quiet night, but I appreciate her trying to get me out of the house and socialise without making it a huge event.
Plus, pho sounds delicious and healthy, always a bonus in my book.
“Sure,” I say and wipe sweat off my forehead with my shirt sleeve. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
She glances around me at the rest of my team, clearly in the middle of a session, and I shrug and nod. “Yeah, I’ll probably need another hour or so till I’m done here and changed.”
“And showered, I hope.” She wrinkles her nose playfully, and I bump her upper arm with my fist. She laughs and checks her watch.
“That’ll work out perfectly. We were going to grab some drinks first, so you can join us after that and meet us at the restaurant.
” The tiniest of pauses, then she adds: “Archie’s brother could pick you up, come to think of it. He’ll be driving, anyway.”
She sounds perfectly casual, but a heaviness settles in my stomach all the same. I’ve known her all my life, and this is clearly not casual. “Clara…”
Her smile is too innocent. “What?” she asks, as if butter wouldn’t melt.
We agreed on no more dates, I want to say, but that’s not technically true.
This wouldn’t be a blind date, I’ve met Archie and even his brother before.
Let me have a hopeless crush for a bit before you try to set me up, would be the truth, but I obviously can’t tell her that. I’d never hear the end of it.
“Clara! Hey!” An all-too-familiar voice comes from behind me, like I’ve conjured him with my thoughts, and I jolt.
Freddie jogs up to me and slings an easy arm around my shoulders. “You look lovely,” he tells my sister, while I do what I can not to tense up at his warm body so close to mine.
“I know.” She grins at him but immediately returns her attention to me. “So we’re good?”
“Coach says we’re not done yet,” Freddie says before I can answer, nodding in the direction of the rest of the team. “Sorry.”
He’s still hugging me. His body is warm and strong against mine.
“Of course!” Clara smiles at him, angelically. “So, Bash will pick you up here in an hour, okay?” she adds in my direction, then flounces off before I can argue.
We watch her leave in silence.
“Who’s Bash?” Freddie asks. His tone is roughly as casual as Clara’s was earlier.
His hand is on my shoulder, big and safe. I know what that hand can do. How gentle it can be. I swallow drily. “A friend of Clara’s,” I say and aim for the same level of casualness. “He’s picking me up to go for dinner.”
Freddie’s grip on my shoulder tightens.
“As a group,” I add hastily. “Not—” Not a date, of course, no matter what Clara thinks. But I don’t need to tell Freddie that. He doesn’t need to know—or even suspect—about the weird fluttery feelings I have sometimes when he’s nearby. We’re just friends. And it must stay that way.
“Ah,” Freddie says when I don’t elaborate further. “Cool. Sounds good.”
His tone suggests he’s not being entirely truthful.
Bash pulls up to the curb in an Audi S6, a ludicrous car to be driving in inner-city London. But I have to admit, it looks nice. I don’t care much about cars, but this one is obviously expensive. And when Bash gets out, yeah, he looks nice, too. Nice and expensive.