Chapter 2 #2
Seated in a circle on the training field, the morning sun raising fog above the grass, Alex could tell he wasn’t alone in his confusion at being asked to keep one copy of…
a Guardian article on wealth management?
Yes, that. Keep one copy, and pass the rest of the printouts on to the player next to him.
“Y’know,” someone said to Alex’s left, “this reminds me of school. Never finished those A levels now, did I?”
“Told you I consider myself responsible for more than just your performance on the field.” Kieran looked perfectly comfortable sitting cross-legged on the damp grass with them. “First five minutes of every training session, we’ll have a conversation, lads. About anything other than soccer.”
“Financial planning, though?” Jeff asked, tone openly dubious.
Kieran nodded. “Among other things. I realize that for a bunch of millionaires, that seems like a quaint idea—but been there, done that, got the bankruptcy declaration to prove it.” He didn’t leave time for comments.
“Three minutes to read the article, then I want some thoughts. Don’t have to be clever thoughts—it’s not a test. Whatever comes to mind, yeah? ”
Murmurs of agreement because it wasn’t like anyone would tell the coach to stuff it.
Alex skimmed the text that declared financial failure the norm for a majority of pro athletes, then advised against wasting money on yachts and false friends, and to instead control spending, invest in low-risk and market-neutral funds, have a plan B, and avoid get-rich-quick schemes.
“Thoughts?” Kieran asked.
“Kinda itching to buy another sports car,” Jeff said, straight-faced.
A few people snorted, Kieran among them. “Fantastic,” he said. “Taught you a real valuable lesson, haven’t I?”
To Alex’s surprise, it was Lee who spoke up next.
“Seems like boring stuff, financial management. ‘S true, though, that we’ll retire by, like, thirty-five—bit later for the goalies, maybe.” He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, his attention firmly fixed on the article.
“That’s still a lot of life to go. Especially if there are people depending on us. ”
How about investing in a woman who cares more about you than she cares about diamonds and expensive bags?
If you can find one, Alex thought but didn’t say—not the place for snark, plus he didn’t actually know much about Lee’s private life other than that he wasn’t wearing a ring.
Honestly, Lee didn’t seem like the type to indulge someone other than himself.
“Excellent point,” Kieran said. “And that’s if you don’t get injured a month or a year from now and never recover.”
“You’re just a bundle of fucking sunshine, aren’t you?” Lewis mumbled.
“Now you’re getting it.” Kieran’s grin was massive as he rose from the ground. “All right, gentlemen. Time to get this show on the road.”
With that, he moved them through a series of warm-up exercises before lining them up for passing drills, the ball zipping back and forth as names got called out. Then dribbling exercises, and set-piece practice. Defensive drills.
And as it turned out, Kieran had not forgotten the exchange he’d witnessed yesterday—at least Alex assumed that was the reason he and Lee got paired up. Because facing off against each other had worked so well for them in the past. Well, no time like the present for some personal growth.
Alex kept his voice neutral. “You want to start in defense or attack?”
“I can go either way.” Something sparked in Lee’s eyes—amusement, maybe. It was brief, gone in a second, and didn’t show in his tone when he continued. “Why don’t I start defending, switch it up for a change?”
Heroically, Alex managed to bypass any comment about how Lee could teach him a thing or two about wangling questionable penalties. Alex didn’t get nearly enough credit for his restraint. “Sure,” was all he said.
Next to them, Jeff and Finley, a right-back, were already engaged in a battle of skills and wit, Jeff lobbing over-the-top insults that Finley countered with laughter and taunts he seemed to have borrowed straight from a boxing ring.
By contrast, Alex stayed silent as he tried to break past Lee, who was equally silent as he fought to block Alex’s path.
Kieran passed them a couple of times, pausing to watch before he moved on to the next pair.
Alex wasn’t sure whether he or Lee had the upper hand.
He was also sweaty and unsettled, too aware of Lee.
Usually, Lee relied on his footwork and speed much more than he did on sheer physicality—Alex had watched enough hours of footage to know his style.
This was different. It felt like a dare, like Lee was just waiting to see how much he could get away with until Alex cried foul.
Well, Alex had been tackled by enough entitled upper-class pricks to handle a bit of rough play. He wasn’t about to blink first.
Switch.
Alex shoved hair off his forehead and didn’t let his attention linger on how Lee lifted his jersey to wipe his face, exposing a flat stomach with a hint of abs, a tattoo curling in the dip beside his left hip bone. Enough.
By the time Lee’s jersey dropped back into place, Alex had dragged his gaze away, up to Lee’s face.
Lee tilted his head, Alex arched an eyebrow, and they were off again, roles reversed.
With Lee attacking, he was in his element, while Alex’s specialty lay in directing the game from the back, in finding gaps to get that one pass through that opened up the game.
Gritting his teeth, Alex shoved in close and fought Lee for every inch.
When Kieran called an end to the exercise, they were both out of breath, glaring at each other. Rationally, Alex knew it hadn’t been anything outrageous—it had been testy, yeah, but Lee hadn’t deliberately tried to injure him.
And yet.
“You do realize,” he told Lee, “that we’re supposed to be on the same team now. Right?”
“On the same team?” Lee repeated slowly, with a strange twist to his tone, and yes, whatever, Alex got it—he was a privileged brat who hadn’t quite shaken off his pompous accent when they’d first met.
“You might want to downsize that shoulder chip before it starts charging rent, you know?”
Lee scowled. “I’ll trade it in for a slice of your privileged pie, how ’bout that?”
That was rich coming from someone who’d dismissed Alex the moment he’d mentioned that his father was a Peer of the Realm. Alex tilted his head and let the corners of his mouth tug upwards. “How about a bake-off? My privileged pie against your oversensitive cupcakes.”
“I’ll bring the popcorn,” Jeff said from right next to them, and Alex realized that they were starting to attract attention. Lee seemed to draw the same conclusion because he turned away, grabbed the ball, and trotted off without another word.
Prick. Alex needed a second to wipe the frown off his face.
“What is it with you two?” Jeff asked as they moved towards where the rest of the squad had gathered around Kieran and some water bottles.
“He was mean to me when we were little” sounded childish, so Alex lifted a shoulder. “He just rubs me the wrong way.”
“Maybe you should show him how to rub you the right way, then.” Of course Jeff would take it as an engraved invitation to inject some innuendo—he had yet to meet a conversation he didn’t want to steer into the gutter.
“Seriously, though,” he continued right after.
“I don’t think he’s that bad. Just a bit awkward at times, more of an introvert. ”
The polar opposite of Jeff, then, and they would have spent a fair amount of time together during the last World Cup along with other national team engagements since.
“That’s because you’re not the enemy,” Alex told him.
Jeff snorted. “The enemy?”
“Aristocratic background, fancy education, received pronunciation.”
“Ah, yes.” Jeff pursed his lips. “You do sound like a bit of a prat whenever you talk to your father. Must be either genetic or contagious.”
“Thanks ever so much,” Alex said dryly.
“It’s what I’m here for.” Jeff bumped their arms together, stopping a few steps away from the others. “Anyway, just saying—think Lee’s family background isn’t the greatest. Might be why he’s a tad sensitive.”
“Hardly my fault, is it?” Alex asked, and Jeff shook his head.
“Nah. But just try to get along, yeah? Politely ignore each other if you have to. Just not on the field, what with how we’re all on the same team now.”
Jeff had a point, but… “Takes two to tango.”
“Takes one to change the music.”
It was mildly concerning when Jeff, of all people, sounded like the sensible one. Alex glanced at where Lee was talking with Oliver, both of them swigging water, and yeah, all right. Alex could try a little harder—or maybe even just try at all.
He turned back to Jeff. “Fine. I won’t actively aggravate him.”
“That the best you can do?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Jeff’s laugh carried. “What was it Kieran said—behavior and attitude?”
“I’ll improve both once Lee stops calling me pretty boy.”
“But”—Jeff treated Alex to an exaggerated leer along with a bottle of water that he handed over—“you really are so very pretty. He probably just can’t help it.”
It didn’t sting, coming from Jeff, because Alex knew it truly was a joke—Jeff had seen how damn hard Alex had worked to make Liverpool’s starting squad at the age of nineteen, always the first at practice and the last to leave.
Jeff also knew that being the product of selective breeding had done a fat lot of nothing for Alex’s soccer career.
Should have gone into cricket. Maybe then his parents would have deigned to show up to his matches.
“Fuck you very much,” Alex told Jeff, tone and smile pleasant.
Jeff clutched a dramatic hand to his chest. “Not in public, dear.”
Moments like this made it rather hard to believe that Jeff was straight. If he weren’t, though, Alex would have been the first to know because Jeff didn’t do secrets and was proud to defy expectations.