Chapter 8 #3
The conversation moved on from there. Jeff retold his brother’s stories of a crowded pilgrim’s trail that appeared to rather resemble a pub crawl in some places, and after that, Oliver described what it felt like to play in the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium when it nearly burst from the deafening racket of eighty thousand fans.
It was a surefire way to get Alex’s nerves buzzing ahead of their match against Morocco.
Under the table, Lee nudged his foot against Alex’s.
Before he could wonder whether that was too familiar when their unsteady friendship had only just crawled back out of a temporary hole, Alex nudged him back.
Lee hardly tasted the rest of their dinner, too focused on Alex right beside him—his low laugh and the occasional brush of their knees, how each time their gazes caught, it took a second before one of them looked away first.
A bad idea.
For Alex, it would be an experiment, claims to the contrary notwithstanding.
Lee, though? Lee risked putting his heart on the line.
And yeah, maybe that was a little dramatic, but with Giovanni, things had been easy from start to finish, right up until they’d said goodbye at the airport.
With Alex, on the other hand, easy didn’t even seem to feature in Lee’s vocabulary.
He’d made the right call. Even if it didn’t really feel like it, not when his attention kept tripping over the bow of Alex’s upper lip and the gentle curves of his biceps, over the subtle scent of his cologne.
What was it Alex had said—he’d been bred for desirable physical qualities?
Well, it would have been a breeze if it had been just the looks, but it was more than that.
It was Alex’s understated sense of humor too, and how they’d found a rhythm that worked for them.
How, initial impressions aside, Alex didn’t need to be the center of attention at all times.
The way he listened, and that he didn’t shy away from difficult topics. That he was smart.
Jesus, Lee needed to get a grip.
He uttered a “Gracias” when his plate was taken away and leaned back in his chair as he looked around the terrace.
The air was heavy with an impending rainstorm, dark clouds gathered over the nearby mountains about to swallow the evening sun.
Some of their teammates had already wandered off, the terrace slowly clearing around them, Kieran in the process of making his usual goodnight rounds.
When he stopped by their table, Lee braced himself for a remark, and the way Alex sat up a little straighter suggested he did the same.
It seemed like Kieran had already drawn his own conclusions, though.
He merely told them to get a good rest and that he’d see them at breakfast tomorrow before he moved along.
Unfortunately, Oliver appeared rather less convinced that things had been sorted out—or maybe he’d drawn his own conclusions as well, but they pointed him down a different path. Either way, when they all got up shortly after, Oliver held Lee back with a hand on the shoulder. “A word?”
Briefly, Lee met Alex’s eyes. Then he nodded at Oliver. “Yeah, sure.”
As Alex and Jeff ambled off together, speculating about which movie the team would be shown tomorrow for a surprise advance screening, Lee propped his hip against the table, crossed his arms, and tilted his head to signal that he was listening.
Oliver’s brow creased. He waited for another few seconds until Alex and Jeff were safely out of earshot. “You and Alex,” he started, then stopped. “Did you, like… make a move on him? Is that what this thing was about?”
Ah, shit.
Alex’s sexuality wasn’t Lee’s information to disclose. But then, given the fairly impermeable state of Lee’s closet, getting to kiss a guy, any guy, was kind of a big deal for him personally, and Oliver was his best mate. Lee wasn’t in the habit of keeping secrets from him.
“Who says it was me?” he asked in an undertone.
Oliver blinked. “Hang on. Are you…” He trailed off, glancing at where Alex and Jeff had disappeared. “So Alex is…”
“Bisexual,” Lee finished.
“Since when? I mean…” Oliver shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just, wow. So you guys…”
“Are friends,” Lee said firmly.
Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “Friends with benefits?”
“Just friends.”
“You like him, though.”
“Yeah.”
“And he likes you?”
“Yeah.”
“But you’re just friends.”
“Well.” Lee hesitated. “Yeah.”
“Why?” Oliver sounded genuinely confused when he, of all people, should get it. He was the captain of the bloody team, after all.
“Because it’s a potential for disaster?” Lee raised one hand, palm up. “Because this isn’t a dating show—we’re here to win the fucking World Cup.”
Oliver shrugged. “Don’t see why one has to exclude the other. Given the circumstances, rooming with Alex will be a distraction anyway, so why not make the most of it?”
That was… something. Unexpected, mostly, and uncharacteristically reckless for Oliver, who tended to check both ways on a one-way street.
“Since when are you so—” Lee cut himself off as a server approached to clear the remaining glasses off the table. They’d outstayed their welcome, it seemed. Fair enough.
Oliver had clearly drawn the same conclusion. “Quick walk before we head to our rooms?” he asked.
“Sure.”
They directed their steps towards the gravel path that Lee had followed earlier with Alex, although now the light was fading, clouds swallowing the last rays of the evening sun.
Time to get ready for bed pretty soon, and Lee hoped that he and Alex would manage to skip the awkward readjustment stage and fall right back into their routine.
Routines were safe—he’d learned that young. They didn’t drag him out of bed at three in the morning to pack for an impromptu trip to France even though he had a math test the next day.
“What was it you were about to say?” Oliver asked once they’d walked in silence for a minute.
“Just wondering why you’re so enthusiastic about this whole thing.”
“You’re in the closet.”
Lee sent him a sideways glance. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“The point is”—Oliver’s voice was serious—“how many chances do you get to fall in love?”
Lee stopped dead in his tracks. “Now, hold on a second. I’m not in love.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Oliver shrugged. “Just that it’s a possibility.”
It bloody isn’t.
The words wouldn’t quite come, and that was a problem for another night.
Lee resumed walking, gravel crunching under his feet, the path curving towards a stone fountain that had fallen silent for the evening.
“Alex isn’t even on the market,” he told Oliver.
“Seems like Daddy Duke will pick out a lovely bride for him, and there’s his happily ever after. ”
“Okay, fine. So it won’t be forever.” Hands shoved into his pockets, Oliver shrugged again. “But it could be good for now.”
Lee frowned at the hulking silhouette of the mossy stone fountain, not quite sure how to respond. Oliver wasn’t exactly wrong because Alex posed a distraction no matter what, but leaving the friends zone would multiply the potential for disaster by a factor of approximately a lot.
“You deserve to feel good, Lee.” Oliver’s voice had softened. “You deserve something that’s, you know—something that’s just for you. Not for your sisters or your mum. Just you.”
Lee bowed his head, dragging his hand along the back of his neck. “Bloody hell, mate.”
Oliver bumped their elbows together. “You deserve to be happy.”
“Who are you—the motivation fairy?”
Blessedly, the question served its purpose because Oliver’s tone was much lighter when he replied. “Far as I can see, there’s only one fairy here, and it isn’t me.”
“Hilarious,” Lee said flatly even as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards.
“Just think about it, yeah?” The earnestness in Oliver’s eyes was unsettling for reasons Lee couldn’t quite explain.
It was as though Oliver worried that Lee’s life was lacking when it really wasn’t—sure, being in a relationship had been nice, but Lee didn’t need a boyfriend to fill some gaping emotional void.
And as for sex, well. Right now, his own hand in the shower did the trick.
Not quite the same, granted, but easy and consistently available.
Oliver was still watching him with that concerned gaze, so Lee sent him a half-smile. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
They finished their walk in silence because not all spaces needed to be filled with words.
Daylight was fading rapidly by the time they separated, off to their respective rooms. Lee fully intended to forget about Oliver’s comments because, just, no.
But they proved rather hard to simply ignore, much like the sting of a wasp—and Lee had experienced his fair share of those playing barefoot soccer at a nearby park when he’d been little.
Nothing had changed, though. Starting anything with Alex still wasn’t a good idea.
Right.
Right.