Epilogue
@LeeJTaylor: Looking forward to clashing on the field instead of in our backyard, for a change. Just promise not to trip over your own two feet and call it a penalty. ;)
Top comment:
Was it a year ago that they had last faced each other like this, on Alex’s home turf? Just about, yes, and at first glance, very little had changed—Alex part of Liverpool’s lineup, Lee the sole striker put forward by Manchester Athletic, his dark-green away shirt hugging his chest.
And yet.
They’d made their move a couple of hours before the match kicked off, reactions pouring in by the thousands in a matter of minutes.
Putting their phones away almost immediately had been part of the deal they’d struck with both their coaches.
“You’ll have months and years to obsess over what strangers on the internet say about you,” Ben had told them. “Why start now?”
Fair point.
Their teams had been informed in advance so no one would feel blindsided, and by and large, it had gone well.
Sure, one or two teammates seemed rather more aware now of where they were in the locker room in relation to Alex, but whatever.
They’d come around or they wouldn’t—it was no skin off Alex’s back.
No one had leaked the news ahead of time, and that was something, wasn’t it?
And now… here they were. Waiting for the whistle that kicked off the game, the stands filled to the last seat, the noise of the crowd a chaotic mix of cheers, jeers, and everything in between.
Impossible to say whether it meant something more than just typical match day excitement, so Alex didn’t try to read between the lines.
Instead, his gaze found Lee, a wide stretch of grass between them—too far to make out the details. But Alex knew him, knew how he carried himself and could read Lee’s determination in the proud tilt of his head and his straight-backed posture. Game fucking on.
There—the whistle. Alex started forward as the crowd faded to the back of his mind.
It was a tough game from the onset. Liverpool had begun the season on a bad run, and it was only after a subsequent change of coaches that they’d really hit their stride.
The new coach, a friend of Kieran’s, had moved Alex into an attacking rather than a defensive role, with Jeff on his right and Selim on his left, one striker ahead of them.
This, today, was their chance to reclaim a spot in the top three, while Manchester Athletic were battling Manchester City’s star-studded Abu Dhabi troupe for the top of the table.
Well, Alex would be damned if he gave Lee so much as an inch.
Just like they’d done a year ago, they clashed repeatedly—tough but fair, jostling and weaving, throwing their bodies into each challenge.
This time, though, the frustration was absent.
It was still personal, yeah, just in a different way.
When one fell, the other helped him up with a quick smile before they were off again.
Also, no penalties were called, which was a big improvement as far as Alex was concerned.
Liverpool won 2–1, Manchester Athletic’s goal manned by a backup keeper who was good but young, not yet quite up to the level of the injured Oliver.
“Couldn’t let me win now could you?” Lee greeted Alex when they found each other on the field, moments after the final whistle with maybe seconds left to spare before reporters would swarm them.
“Oh, please.” Alex wrapped his arms around him, grinning. “You’d hate it if I’d gone easy on you. Nice goal, by the way.”
“You too,” Lee told him.
“Celebrate tonight?”
Lee tilted his head. “But I lost.”
“I beg to differ,” Alex said, and the way Lee’s eyes crinkled at the corners suggested that he agreed.
And then the cameras were there.
Cameras and microphones and questions, reporters shouting at them as security formed a protective ring.
Ben jogged over and pushed his way through, liberally using his elbows, and then Jeff was there too, Oliver throwing himself into the fray just moments after.
Somewhere in the stands, Lee’s mum and sisters were cheering them on, Ben’s husband with them along with Kieran, Marco, and a handful of Alex’s friends who’d proven themselves. They weren’t alone in this.
Funny how you didn’t truly know your friends until you needed them.
“Ready, guys?” Ben asked, planted in front of them like a human shield, one hand on each of their shoulders, his grip firm and steady. Jeff was right next to Alex, an arm slung around his waist, and a glance showed that Oliver flanked Lee on the other side.
Alex inhaled deeply and turned his attention back to Lee, found him already looking at him.
Yes, they were ready—had talked about it for weeks, weighed the pros and cons, late-night chats and morning debates over coffee until they’d done it so many times that their conversations had turned into a well-rehearsed set-piece.
It was Alex who’d put an end to it. Sprawled in the grass of Lee’s private backyard after a mini match against each other, blue sky and the first truly warm afternoon of the year, he realized that he’d started thinking of Lee’s house as theirs.
“I want to kiss you in public,” he’d told Lee, as simple as that.
“You’re sure, then?” Lee had asked as though this whole time, he’d really just been waiting for Alex to make up his mind.
“I am,” Alex had said, and he still was.
He tightened his hold on Lee, and in response, Lee squeezed Alex’s hip—arms around each other, united against the barrage of reporters. The noise of the crowd was a mere backdrop to the rush of adrenaline in Alex’s ears.
“We’re ready,” he told Ben. “Let’s start with Sky Sports, like we discussed.” Then BBC Sport, ESPN, the Guardian, and BT Sport—five in total, three minutes each, to ensure a mix of immediate broad coverage, thoughtful analysis, and international reach.
Ben nodded, his smile fading into something much softer.
Over the past months, he’d become their mentor, something of a father figure they could actually look up to.
“Proud of you, lads,” he told them in an undertone, and before they could reply, he turned away to instruct the closest security guard to allow the Sky Sports crew into the circle.
Alex glanced at Lee, their eyes meeting for just a moment. Without even meaning to, Alex started to smile.
This was them, and screw anyone who didn’t like it. Because Alex and Lee?
They would be just fine.
*
Loved the chaos? The banter? The slightly disastrous path to true love? There’s plenty more where that came from in Operation Boyfriend. Luxury resort, fine AF fake boyfriend… what could possible go wrong?!
Get it here, or read on for an exclusive extract!