Chapter Ten
Ezra
Why the fuck had I invited this man back to my flat?
Was I trying to make myself miserable? Or was I going for the record in shit decisions? Did my brain somehow think I needed more mess and chaos in my life? Because it certainly fucking felt like it.
Danny had looked like he was about to be sick when I’d knocked on the window of his car, and my heart had sunk because I’d known kissing him was a bad idea but I’d done it anyway.
“Here,” I said, handing Danny a small glass of vodka as I sat down on the worn armchair opposite the sofa. “Drink it slowly.”
Danny sniffed it cautiously. I wondered if he’d ever had neat vodka before.
I assumed so, given what I knew about sportsmen in general, but I guessed it was likely to have been cheap, shitty stuff where the focus was less on taste and more on how quickly it would get someone wasted. “Do you have any mixer?”
“Sure, there’s some orange juice in the fridge.
Help yourself.” I smiled blithely, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen.
If I’d offered him Belvedere, then I’d have been offended by his question, but Shane had drunk it all and I was down to my bottle of Absolut, so I cared less about Danny adding things to it.
“Cheers,” he said, and I kept my eyes on his arse as he walked through to the kitchen, admiring the way he looked in the shorts slung low on his hips.
He’d look so cute in a slutty little pair of daisy dukes, or a jockstrap, or even a thong.
That pretty round arse of his deserved to be properly shown off.
“This is nice,” Danny added as he came back, his glass now filled with orange juice, a large ice cube bobbing in the middle.
He was looking around the room and pretending to admire the furniture, because I couldn’t imagine anyone truly liking the awful beige walls and worn cream sofa that looked like it belonged in a student flat.
“You don’t have to be polite,” I said, sipping my drink. “It’s a shithole.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“So have I. But it doesn’t mean I want to live in them.”
Danny raised an eyebrow and sipped his own drink, sitting forward on the sofa and resting his elbows on his thighs. “Did your ex get your place in the divorce then?”
“He won’t if I get any say,” I muttered darkly.
“So what, you walked out, and he got the house until you go to court?”
“Something like that. I don’t want to talk about it.” I fixed my gaze on him as I crossed my legs and leant back in the chair. Something was digging into my spine, but I refused to move on principle. “I’d rather talk about you.”
“I thought you said I didn’t have to,” Danny said, another pout forming on his plush lips. Did he even realise he was doing it? Or was it a reflex? Either way, it was too fucking tempting and I shouldn’t have been fixated on it.
“We don’t have to talk about your emotional turmoil.” Or the fact that kissing me seemed to have sent him spiralling despite his cocky attitude. “But I still have questions. And you’re the one who wanted to have this conversation, so I assume you have some too.”
I sipped my drink again, watching him closely.
There was a slightly nervous bounce to his leg, and he was twisting the glass in his hand, his eyes not meeting mine as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.
An uneasy feeling crawled under my ribs, slithering against the bones and making me wince as I became painfully aware of its presence.
Pushing myself to my feet, I moved over to the sofa and sat down beside him, our legs not quite touching.
I didn’t want to crowd him, but I also didn’t want this to feel like a job interview.
We weren’t discussing a contract, and sitting apart with me watching him had sharpened the lines of the power dynamic between us, making them flare like neon lights in the dark.
“Nice watch,” Danny said, gesturing lightly with the glass at the timepiece on my wrist. It was one of my favourites, a vintage Maurice Lacroix that I’d gotten from an antique warehouse about four years ago.
“Thanks,” I said, offering him a warm smile. “I have a bit of a thing for nice watches. They’re my weakness. I really should stop buying them, maybe even sell a few. Then I might be able to afford the extortionate fees my solicitor is charging me. And buy a decent sofa.”
“If you want your house back, you probably want to pay the solicitor first.”
“I suppose, and in the meantime, my arse will just have to suffer.”
Danny chuckled and wiggled slightly in his seat. “I don’t know. I’ve sat on worse.”
“So have I, but my back has decided my days of sitting and sleeping on shitty sofas are over if I want to be able to function the next day.”
“At least you don’t have a roommate,” Danny said. “It could be worse.”
“The bar would have to be in hell for me to have a roommate.” I was not sharing my space again unless I had to.
It’d been my first ground rule after catching Reed shagging two of our neighbours in our bed, and now I finally understood that expression old straight men were so fond of about a man’s home being his castle.
If I could have a drawbridge and a moat, I would have strongly considered it. Although the aesthetics of the rest of the house would have to change to match, and medieval gothic had never been my style.
Danny laughed again and reached out to tap his glass against mine. “Cheers to that. I fucking hate living with other people.”
“Not in a teammate roommate situation then?”
“Fuck no!” He shuddered dramatically and pulled a face of visceral disgust. “I mean, I love them but have you met my teammates? Animals. I once went over to Ollie and Asher’s place and the kitchen was fucking vile.
There was mould! And the bathroom was like every nightmare of a festival toilet at once, except there wasn’t shit on the floor.
And Hunter and Bailey are just as bad, or at least they were.
I think they hired a cleaner after Devon, West, and I gave them shit for the state of their place.
Like I know it’s a stereotype that men will live in filth, but some of these guys actually will and it’s fucking disgusting. ”
I stared at him in horror. “That sounds—”
“Right? And I get it. Cleaning is hard if you’ve never been taught or your mental health sucks, ’cos it can be a lot, but I am not excusing these men.
Also, I’ve shared a room with some of them before and they’re just as bad outside their own houses.
Mostly I stick with Charlie because at least he picks up after himself, but he walks around naked half the time.
And yeah, I’ve seen it all before in the showers, but I don’t need to see his dick at seven in the morning when he makes coffee. It’s not fucking necessary.”
I bit back a laugh as I took a long sip of my vodka.
The way Danny talked, how animated he was and how expressive his face was, made me hang on every word he said.
He was naturally charismatic, lighting up the room and drawing me in.
I’d seen it before after matches when Leigh interviewed him for our social media or when he was chatting to fans or other players’ friends and families.
People listened to him, smiled at his jokes, and walked away with a feeling of connection.
It was magnetic and beautiful and I wanted to be the only one in his orbit, bathing in the glow of his charm and hoping he’d notice me.
“What?” he asked, catching me staring.
“Nothing,” I said, unable to keep the fondness out of my tone. “I’m just not sure whether to be more stunned, disgusted, or unsurprised by what you said.”
“Charlie being naked is, like, the least surprising thing because most of them will get their kit off given half a chance.”
“Maybe we should try doing a naked calendar,” I mused. “We can add some strategically placed rugby balls.”
“Don’t even joke. They’ll all turn up to your office in their pants and ask where the camera is.”
“Will you be there?”
“Dunno, maybe.” He smirked, eyes dancing with the same mischief I’d seen in my office. “Would you want me there?”
“Yes.”
“Would you be the one behind the camera?”
“I doubt it,” I said, twisting my body slightly so I could face him and keeping my hand firmly on my glass before it found its way to his thigh. “We’d have to get a professional.”
“That’s a shame. I’d rather it was you.” He leant closer, his fingers brushing along my forearm. “Would you do it if we were alone? Or what if I sent you things?”
“You can definitely send me things.”
He tilted his head closer and all I wanted to do was kiss him.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
“Danny,” I said, sitting back and finally putting my hand on his thigh to hold him away from me. “What do you want?”
“I was going to kiss you. Why? Is that a problem?”
“No… but you can’t do it yet.”
He looked so confused. And pissed too. He really didn’t like being told what to do, like the naughty puppy I thought he was. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because I don’t think you’ve really thought this through.” I hated turning him down, especially after that kiss. But as sweet as it’d been, it was clear Danny was going through something and had decided to throw himself at the closest man he found attractive in the hope of figuring his shit out.
His approach made sense, but I had enough shreds of self-awareness left to know I wasn’t the right man for him to do this with. After all, I’d already ruined the best relationship that had ever happened to me, and I was so close to self-destructing I could almost taste it.
Danny deserved someone better than a bitter, broken man with a shattered heart and the need to control everything around him because it was the only thing that made him feel like he had any say over what was left of his life.
He might only have wanted something casual with no strings attached and no commitment beyond pleasure, but I didn’t think I could do that. Not because I wanted more, but because I was afraid the dark cloud of chaos that enveloped me would bleed into his life and drag him down beside me.
“You’re cute as fuck, Danny,” I continued. “And kissing you was the most fun I’ve had in months, but I’m not the right man for you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m just not. There’s too much shit going on in my life.
You’ve got your own shit to deal with too, and you need someone who’s going to be able to help you with that or support you while you figure it out.
” I shook my head and let out a dry, hollow laugh.
“I’d only offer you a drink and a blow job to forget about it. ”
“What if that’s what I want?” Danny asked defiantly.
“You can’t make this decision for me! What if I don’t want to think about what’s going on in my head and just figure it out as I go?
Kissing you was the first time I’ve felt anything like that, and if I am gay, I want to do this with someone I’m attracted to and who knows what the fuck he’s doing, because I don’t! ”
“I can’t, but I do get to consent to my involvement. You can’t force me either.”
“Please, Ezra, I want this.”
“Do you?” I asked, levelling my gaze at him and studying his expression. There was uncertainty there, but he was pouting again and it looked so sweetly determined I nearly threw everything out of the window and pulled him into my lap.
“Yeah, I do. And I think you do too,” he said.
He squeezed my arm gently and smiled. “Look, I get it. You’ve had a really crap time and been through a shit breakup.
Like probably the worst breakup you could go through.
But I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re messed up or not there for me.
I don’t need a therapist. I just want someone to have sex with. ”
I chuckled. It wasn’t eloquent, but it didn’t need to be.
“Fine,” I said. “We can do this. On one condition.”
“What is it?” He looked suspicious and rightly so, because I already knew my pouting puppy wasn’t going to like it. But it was for his own good.
“You need to think about if this is something you really want and figure out where your head is. And I don’t mean taking two minutes now. I mean really thinking about it.”
“You’re kidding, right? This is a joke.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You need to think about this until at least Friday night. That’s what, three days? If you’re still sure by then, then I’ll kiss you. Really, it should be longer.”
Danny pouted and folded his arms, scowling at me. “This is bollocks!”
“No, puppy. These are the rules.”
We were both going to need them if we wanted to make it out in one piece.