Chapter 29
AJ
I wave goodbye to Kyle at the door. The familiar ache is there, but this time is followed by something more.
Like a piece of me has gone with him. I say goodnight to my parents and head off back to my house.
Alone. Mum had suggested taking Dereck with me, but I don’t think it would be fair on him—uprooting his routine and being home alone most of the day.
As much as I would like the company, I couldn’t do it to him.
The next day is the start of my community outreach and would you believe where I have been assigned?
My old neighborhood. I have been tasked with going door to door and talking to the people.
It's the gaffer’s way of making players connect with supporters.
It was heralded as a master stroke in the press when he first did it.
I walk around the familiar neighborhood, a big coat over my club tracksuit because this area is mostly dominated by Union. Another reason why my gaffer wanted me here was to show that no matter what team we support or play for, we are still all human.
Faces from my past jump out at me. Guys who I used to kick a football around with are now strolling around with strollers and a wife on their arm. I nod to them, but they either don’t see me or don’t want to see me. Sometimes you’re resented for “getting out of the hard times.”
The wind picks up behind me, and I look up at the dark gray Mancunian sky.
Looks like rain, as always. I walk past the shops where Kyle and I used to grab some pick’n’mix and a pop before school.
My feet take me inside and, to my relief, it’s all still the same: shelves stacked to the brim with essentials, huge screens showing the security camera feed, and Mrs. Braithweight on her stool.
Without the stool, she’d be around four feet.
But she commands respect with her steely blue eyes.
Legend has it someone tried to rob her once, and she took them out by throwing her stool at them and knocking them out.
While waiting for the police to show up, she sat on them and sewed a pair of handcuffs. I have no idea if that’s true or if the kids from my school made it up. Either way, we were too scared to fuck around and find out. She’s a pillar of the community and no one would dare mess with her anyway.
“Aaron, is that really you?” she says as I approach the counter with a resigned look.
“Yes, Mrs. Braithweight. It’s great to see you.”
She looks over her thick glasses at me, her once-black hair now entwined with silver, and slaps me on the arm.
“OW!” I say, recoiling from her.
“What do you think you are doing?” she says, eyes filled with anger for reasons I have no idea about. She points a gnarled finger at me, the tip yellowed from years of smoking tobacco.
“I, I was,” I look around the shop for anything, then I spot the flowers in the corner, “buying flowers!”
“Not what are you doing in my shop, I mean what are you doing playing for City,” she says, and then spits into what I hope is a bin on the other side of the counter.
“You are a Union boy, from a Union estate,” she wags her finger again.
I don’t correct her that I’m not actually from the estate.
You can’t argue semantics with football fans.
It’s easy to forget sometimes how ingrained football is to communities.
A result for the team can positively or negatively impact the whole palace until the next game.
Win, and everyone was out on the square: playing football, shooting the shit, etc.
Lose, and you wouldn’t see anyone walk past your window, save for going to the shop to get some milk for a cuppa tea.
“You have betrayed the estate young man,” she continues, and I have no idea what to say. I walk over and grab the flowers, a huge bunch of carnations in every color. I know I can’t win Mrs. Braithweight around, but I’m hoping there’s someone else I can.
I pay for the flowers and head out of the shop, a slew of insults aimed at my club trail behind me.
Standing outside the familiar home, with the same door I stood at every morning waiting for Kyle to come out, I get a rush of emotions.
I’m hoping he’s in as this will be a whole lot easier if he is.
He said he would be, and I know his dad has an obsession with timing, so he must be here by now.
I take another breath and knock. I hear voices on the other side of the door, footsteps getting closer, and then a bolt sliding out of the lock.
“We don’t want what yer sellin’,” his dad says, and goes to shut the door in my face. I put a hand out.
“Mr. Thurston, it’s me, Aaron,” I say, offering him a bright smile.
He stares at me, and then recognition fills his features. And then he slams the door in my face.
As if some sort of cosmic force is playing a practical joke on me, the heavens open and rain begins to come down.
I start to walk back up the path when the door opens again.
“AJ?” I turn around, and there he is, the axis of my world.
My face lights up, “Hi,” is all I can say.
The rain is pelting me, and I’m thankful to be wearing a coat as it’s taking the brunt.
“Come inside, quick, you’ll catch a cold.”
“You sound like our mums,” I say, dashing inside.
The hallway is small and intimate. I’m standing over him, dripping wet on his welcome mat, and he’s looking up at me with those emerald green eyes. Warmth is radiating off him, and I want to hold him, want to be near him.
“Nice flowers,” he says, breaking the tension.
I look down at them, having forgotten their existence, “Oh, they’re a peace offering for your mum.”
“Peace offering?” Kyle says, looking confused.
“It’s part of my community outreach that my gaffer has got me to do, but really, I came to see you.” I close the gap a little more; his fingers lace into mine, sending an electric touch up and down my body.
“Put that wood in t’ hole!” his dad shouts from the living room, and we both burst out laughing. If there’s one thing I love about the north, it’s our way of speaking. Kyle was telling me, when he lived down south, they hadn’t a clue what he was talking about half the time.
“It is you. I thought your father was going bloomin’ demented. Ello, Aaron, dear, come in and warm yourself up. Give me yer coat, I’ll ’ang it over t’ radiator.”
My whole body stiffens. This is a strict Union house. Not only am I a City player, but I have the full training kit on.
“Um, sure,” I say, sounding the most unsure I’ve ever been in my life. I shuck off my coat in a way that doesn’t reveal the crest to her.
Kyle spots the crest, his mouth turns into a giant “O” like he’s that famous bridge painting.
“What is it dear?” his mum asks.
“Nothing!” I say at the exact same time Kyle says it.
“You pair haven’t grown up at all, have you?” she says with an amused look on her face.
“AJ, would you like to come up to my room real quick, I have to, um, show you something?” His voice lilts at the end, making it sound like he wasn’t sure at all.
“Yes,” I say, turning around too quickly, forgetting his mum is right there. I watch her eye my badge. I watch her look in horror as realization dawns. And worse still, his dad comes into the kitchen and gets an eyeful of the badge.
“What t’ fuck are you and that fucking badge doing in my house!?” His voice is thunderous. I want to die, and I just might. But I’m not beamed up by a bright light. I hear no angels singing to save me. Fuck.
Kyle’s mum puts an arm on his shoulder to try and calm him down. Honestly, I think it would have been better if I squatted on their kitchen table and took a steaming shit.
“I am so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Thurston.”
“Sorry?” his dad booms. “First yer’ photographed about to knock out me son, and now yer ’ere wearing that kit.
And look at the state of yer hair, lad, and your nails, yer look like that poof Boy George.
I told you to stay away from him, son. He’ll rub off on you,” I think about telling him he’s done that numerous times, but I like how my head is attached to my body.
“Dad, it’s not what you think,” Kyle protests, and I think to myself it’s even worse.
“I still support Union,” I blurt out.
They all look at me as if I’ve sprouted a second head.
“Yer do?” his dad asks, genuinely shocked.
“Well, of course, I only play for City. But Union will always have my heart.”
Kyle covertly pinches my ass, and I give him a sideways glance.
“Good. Just, take that shit off while yer in this house, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, giving him the proper respect.
“I have some spare clothes upstairs,” Kyle offers before dragging me away from the situation.
We run upstairs holding hands, and he shuts the door behind us.
“That. That…was more intense than taking a penalty. I forgot how intense your parents were about the clubs.”
“Dad is worse than Mum,” he says, sitting on the bed and patting the spot next to him, an invitation for me to join. I take it up, our bodies so close I can smell his aftershave.
“Does your door still lock?”
“Yeah, why?”
“No reason,” I say, getting up and locking the door. I come back to the bed and push him onto it, straddling him.
“Oh, hello,” he says, feeling my length. “You know, you really should take these awful clothes off.”
“Should I?” I ask, already unzipping my top.
I stand over him on the bed, and he sits up, sliding my tracksuit bottoms and boxers off, revealing my dick glistening with pre-excitement.
“I half expected you to be wearing boxers with your club crest on them too,” he says, planting a kiss on my inner thigh, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Stop talking and start sucking,” I growl. I can see why he likes to growl; it makes me feel more dominant, at least in the bedroom.
He does as I command and takes my length in his mouth down to the base.
He releases my dick, while we position ourselves on the bed, then takes me down to the base once more.
The warmth of his mouth feels exhilarating.
I grip the bedsheets and stifle a moan. He licks the entirety of my dick as it makes its way in and out of his mouth.
I arch my back in response, and he takes me deeper.
I bite my forearm to quell my moans, and he sees this as a personal challenge.
He spits on my tip, rolling his thumb over it.
All my nerve endings form to a very hard point.
I’m about to say I’m coming when he swallows me whole, excitement and all.
My body feels like a ball of jelly, and I’m gasping for air like I’ve just ran a marathon. He straddles me and kisses my neck.
“We should head back downstairs before my parents get suspicious,” he says in between kissing my neck.
“I hope you know I’ll be returning the favor very soon,” I say, sitting up against the headboard.
“I’m counting on it.” Kyle plants another kiss on my lips and slides off the bed and pulls two items for me out of his closet and places them on the bed.
“My gran got these for me last Christmas. They’re a little big for me, but I reckon they’ll fit you perfectly.
” He gives me a devious smirk as I take in the familiar club crest. The one I grew up supporting.
I hold the top up against my chest and smile, “I, I, um—"
“What’s the matter, devil got your tongue?” he asks, still smirking. “Don’t worry, no one is going to know.” He takes the top out of my hands and places it over my head. “There, much better.”
I pull on the matching tracksuit bottoms and can’t help but like the way I look in the mirror. My dream was to play for Union, but I ended up playing for their bitter rivals. It’s a path I never thought I’d take, but one that has afforded me to live my dreams.
He plants another kiss on my lips, and we head downstairs into the lion’s den of his parents’ living room.