Chapter Nine
Bailey
The crowd roared as we jogged out onto the pitch, the sound making a wave of calm roll through me and settling the buzzing itch under my skin that had been bugging me since I woke up.
There was something about the start of a new Premiership season that always made me nervous, in a way the cup matches we’d already played didn’t. Maybe it was because there was more resting on the Premiership than the Compass Cup, at least to me.
Doing well in the Premiership meant being noticed, getting international call-ups, sponsorships, brand deals, and the chance for us to play in European competitions.
It meant proving myself across a season and showing the world that I was good at what I did.
There was a hunger for more inside me, a desire to push myself to the limit and see where I could go.
The Knights were a great team, and we were getting better with every season.
But we still didn’t have a trophy to show for it.
And that was starting to really fucking bother me.
We’d come so close last season but we’d never managed to get it over the line, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
I didn’t know if everyone was as pissed as me, but I hoped so.
We needed that fire to drive us. Otherwise, we’d forever be runners-up.
And I was not going to waste the rest of my career always coming second.
I bounced on the spot as I took my position, eyes roaming across the rest of the pitch and our opposition. Brighton were newly promoted and undoubtedly looking to make a mark in their first real test of the season.
That wouldn’t happen if I had something to say about it.
Mason might joke that I did fuck all, but I was the one who cleaned up the mess when everyone else fucked up.
The match kicked off with Brighton drop-kicking the ball towards us, but if they’d been aiming to get underneath it or kick it into touch before we got hold of it, they were mistaken. They might be fast, but Danny was faster and as the ball curled towards the wing, it went straight into his hands.
Oh, he was not going to shut up about that for days.
Especially not with his new boyfriend, the Knights social media manager, Ezra, watching.
The front row pushed forward, moving the ball down the pitch with a deadly combination of power and speed. I kept a little distance, watching, waiting, knowing one slip, one bad pass, one mistake would give Brighton an opportunity. And then it would be my job to stop them.
Hunter was further down the pitch, putting those long legs of his to good use.
I hoped Aiden appreciated all the work he’d been putting in at the gym since we started training again in July.
He’d been careful, though, balancing the needs of the job with his mental health, and that was what mattered most to me.
Neither of us had mentioned his history to Aiden. It hadn’t seemed relevant.
Not yet anyway.
“Oi, Young, are you going to join us?” Danny asked, waving his hand at me as I jogged further down the pitch. “We have got shit to do, you know.”
“Fuck you, Wheeler,” I said, not taking my eyes off the ball. Play had slowed for a second as people extracted themselves from a pile on the floor.
“Nah, thanks, I’m taken.”
I chuckled, giving him the barest of glances. “God, could your shorts get any smaller?”
“They’re practical. And—” Anything else he was going to say was instantly cut short as the ball came flying towards us. Danny snapped into action, grabbing it out of the air and tearing off down the pitch before anyone could reach him.
He might be an annoying little shit sometimes, but he was fast as fuck and slippery as an eel. When they finally did catch him, it took several attempts for anyone to get hold of him and even then he managed to pass the ball and slide out of their grasp.
Brighton were really trying to push us, but at the rate they were going, they’d run out of energy in the second half, even with subs.
I just had to stay focused and not let my mind drift when things were going our way and there was less for me to do. Because I’d never hear the end of it otherwise.
When the ball eventually came my way, near the end of the first half, it was dropping out of the air.
One of the Brighton guys had kicked it down the pitch in the hope of putting it into touch and getting them some ground, even if the throw-in would be in our favour.
It would get us off their try line at least.
If they succeeded… which they didn’t.
I grinned as I leapt into the air and grabbed the ball, landing on the turf with a soft thud and setting off down the pitch at speed. A couple of Brighton players tried to come for me, but I had fresher legs and it wasn’t hard to step around them and power forward.
Oh, this was too easy. They’d left a huge fucking hole right in the middle of their defence.
I almost laughed at the stream of yelling and cursing that followed me.
A crescendo of noise built around me as I got closer to the line, the crowd willing me on with every step.
I curved slightly, aiming towards the posts to make the conversion kick easier for Devon.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see their fullback barrelling towards me. Wanting to be a hero.
His arms were outstretched as he hurled himself at my legs in a desperate last move. But I was close enough to throw myself across the line with the ball tucked against my chest. I felt the other guy sliding over my thighs as I released the ball, making sure it touched the turf.
The whistle blew and I grinned, my pulse pounding in my ears as I slowly climbed to my feet, only to be immediately tackled by Hunter and the rest of the team.
“Fucking smashed it,” Hunter said as he squeezed me around the chest, almost lifting me off my feet.
“You should’ve seen their faces,” Jonny said, clapping me on the shoulder and grinning. “Don’t think they know what hit them.”
“They shouldn’t leave holes then,” I said.
“We’ll keep an eye out for that,” Matty muttered as the water carriers came sprinting on with bottles for us while Devon lined up to kick the conversion. “If we can take advantage of it, we should.”
“Me and Charlie can try and keep them busy,” Danny said, squirting water into his mouth and pouring some over his mullet. “Split their attention. And if that fails, we’ll shoot someone down the middle.”
“We’ll talk about it at half-time,” Matty said. He glanced up at the clock and my eyes followed his. We had three minutes left to play before the whistle. That would be simple enough to get through.
The crowd cheered as Devon’s boot placed the ball neatly between the posts, the assistant referee confirming the kick was good with a short blast on her whistle.
The score was now twenty-one to three, and felt very comfortable.
But we had to be careful not to get complacent, because we’d been caught out before.
And it was agonising to lose when you’d been three tries ahead.
We put our water bottles back in the holders and jogged back into position, waiting for things to resume.
I smiled to myself as I watched the ball fly through the air.
Hopefully, Aiden was enjoying the show.
The dressing room was full of raucous noise, drinks being sprayed, and terrible singing as the post-match celebrations kicked off in style.
Fifty-five to eight. Really not a bad way to open our account for the season.
As predicted, Brighton had collapsed in the second half and if I was a better person, I might have felt bad for them. But I’d never been the most sportsmanlike player.
“Nice job,” Hunter said, sitting down next to me and handing me a can of beer.
He’d stripped down to his pants, bits of mud still clinging to his skin, and I tried not to let my eyes linger on his body.
There was only so much ogling I could get away with in public.
Although, in all fairness, our teammates weren’t always the most observant bunch.
There was a good chance they wouldn’t even notice.
“Cheers, you too.” I tapped my can against his in cheers before I clicked the tab open and took a swig. It was shit. “Fuck, that’s disgusting.”
“It’s not that bad. If you don’t want it, I’ll have it.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to drink it.” Clive only let us drink in the dressing room every so often, and I wasn’t going to waste it. He still could have gotten us better beer.
“Are you going to spend the whole time bitching about it?”
I grinned and took another long swig, trying to pour it straight down my throat so I didn’t have to think about the taste. “Probably.”
“Fuck that,” Hunter said, reaching out and trying to grab it out of my hands.
“Sod off, wanker!” I twisted away from him, chugging the rest of the can without taking a breath. I laughed as I crushed it in my hands, watching as Hunter rolled his eyes.
“Twat.”
“What? You were trying to take my drink.” I licked my lips. “Hmm, it’s not as bad if you drink it quickly.”
Hunter snorted. “That’s not the only thing you drink quickly.”
“Not true. I savour most things. I just fucking hate cheap beer. We’ve got some better stuff at home, right?”
“Yeah, we do.”
“Thank fuck!” I rolled my head, feeling something click in my neck. I needed a snack, a shower, a massage, an ice bath, and an orgasm. Maybe not quite in that order. The ones I was most interested in were the snack and the orgasm. But I could only fix one of those right now.
There were several huge trays of food laid out in the middle of the room, courtesy of the catering team, and it was easy to grab myself a couple of sandwiches, several large handfuls of potato wedges, and a thick slab of chocolate chip banana bread.
The goal was to start replacing all the energy I’d burned off in the last eighty-odd minutes.
And give me more for later. If Aiden was around.
Although I’d have dinner once I got home too.
“Got any plans for tonight?” I casually asked Jonny as he picked up a sandwich, inspecting it quickly to see what was inside.
“Not really,” he said. “Aiden’s visiting and I think the three of us’ll have dinner. He promised Devon he’d make dauphinoise potatoes if we won.”
“Like you don’t want them too,” Devon said teasingly as he picked up his own sandwich and took a huge bite.
“I never said that. I said he promised you that he’d make them.” He grinned at his boyfriend and I suppressed an irritated sigh. They were so in love it was almost sickening. Or maybe I was jealous. “What about you?”
“Not much, just dinner and collapsing on the sofa.” It was going to be a pretty boring evening unless I could somehow get Aiden out from under Jonny’s nose without him noticing. And the chances of that suddenly felt very low.
I grabbed another slice of banana bread and shoved it in my mouth. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about continuing the conversation with Jonny and Devon because Danny had turned the volume up on the speaker and was now belting out Underground Dreaming songs with Charlie.
“Bailey!” Danny yelled, waving his arm at me. “Come here!”
I was never one to pass up a good singalong. And it would cheer me up after the realisation I probably wasn’t getting laid tonight.
Hunter was laughing from his locker seat, sandwich and beer in hand, as Danny, Charlie, and I did our best boyband impression in our pants. If we hadn’t been half-naked, he’d probably have taken a video for Aiden.
I still wanted to show off for Hunter, though. Needed him to keep his eyes on me for every single minute and forget about everything else in the room.
Last year when Jonny and Devon had still been figuring their shit out, we’d gone on a team night out for Matty’s birthday and I’d dragged Devon onto the dance floor so Jonny could watch us.
I’d joked about making Jonny jealous for Devon, because it was clear they both liked that—off the pitch at least.
But I’d wanted to make Hunter jealous too.
I’d wanted him to see me with Devon and realise what was right under his nose.
We’d ended up taking some cute guy home from the club together, but Hunter had spent the whole night with his eyes on me. And I’d spent the whole night fighting the temptation to lean over the other guy and kiss Hunter.
It hadn’t happened. But if we did it again, I knew things would be different.
Aiden had made things different.
Fuck. Now I wanted Aiden to see me like this too.
Was he the jealous type, like his brother?
Or would he want to watch? He loved telling Hunter and me what to do when we sexted, and I hoped to fuck that extended to reality.
A whole fantasy was emerging in my brain of him watching us, directing us, controlling us, only letting us come when he was satisfied.
And in the fantasy, he wanted to watch me fuck Hunter too.
My eyes met Hunter’s as I sang, and I wanted to believe I saw desire there.
I had to believe it.
Because I was tired of pretending I didn’t feel anything.
And I needed him to feel the same.