Chapter 2
KAI
“Who’s Connor Taylor?” I asked Callum from beside me, my eyes trailing after the small boy making his way back through the house.
He didn’t look like much of a dealer. Not even close. Scrawny, hoodie half-falling off one shoulder, hands shoved in his pockets like he was trying to make himself smaller. He looked like the kind of kid who apologised when someone else bumped into him.
But then again, what did a dealer even look like? I’d never met one up close - only seen them in films and on TV. Still… I knew they didn’t look like that.
“You don’t know?” Callum said, taking another swig of his drink. I shook my head. “Well, I suppose you are a goody-two-shoes.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just because I don’t take drugs, that makes me a goody-two-shoes.”
“Exactly,” Callum joked.
“He’s a big town dealer,” Bryce cut in. “And you should be happy you don’t know him. The guy’s bad news.”
“Yeah, I heard last year, he beat a guy so bad he nearly killed him,” Josh said from across the bonfire.
“Really?” I said, eyes wide. “What did they do?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Owed him money, I think.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“I don’t know much about him,” Callum said, leaning back in his chair, “but I know I wouldn’t want him as my brother, that’s for sure… although I guess it might have a few perks.”
A cheeky grin spread across his face.
“Just ’cause you’re a druggy,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“I’m not a druggy,” Callum shot back. “I just happen to like hard drugs.” He shrugged like that somehow made it better.
“Sounds like a druggy to me,” Bryce cut in.
I gave Callum a knowing look.
“Well, fuck you,” he said, flipping Bryce off. “And fuck you too.” He added, aiming the second one at me.
I laughed.
“How did you even get the drugs?” I asked. “Do you know Connor or something?”
Callum nodded. “Kind of.”
“You met him?” My eyebrows raised, the fire roaring again.
“Once or twice.” Another shrug. “He was close with Ryan in school. Seemed nice enough… but then again, I never owed him money.”
“Your brother Ryan?” I took a sip of my beer, the fizz sliding down my throat as I watched the fire spit sparks into the air. He nodded again.
That sounded about right. People always seemed nice until they weren’t.
“They got in a few fights back in the day, and Mum absolutely hated him,” Callum went on. “Ryan came home with a hell of a shiner once. She was fuming - it was the week of Aunt Julie’s wedding.” He snorted. “Yeah, he got a right bollocking for that one.”
A laugh slipped out of him, bright and careless.
“I bet he did.” I chuckled. Callum’s mum was a firecracker, alright. Harmless most of the time, but she had a spark in her that could turn into a full-on storm if you pushed her. You definitely didn’t want to be on the wrong side of her thunder.
Callum grinned like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Mum nearly chased him out the house with a slipper. Funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I laughed again, shaking my head. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Jackie doesn’t miss.”
“She really doesn’t,” Callum said proudly, like having a terrifyingly protective mum was something to brag about. “Remember year 8?” he added, already laughing.
I didn’t even need him to say more. The memory hit instantly.
“You mean when you raided her alcohol cupboard and got me drunk at four p.m. on a Tuesday,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“What do you mean, got you drunk ?” he shot back, grinning.
“You said it was Sprite.”
“But then you realised it wasn’t and drank it anyway.”
“Because I was already gone the moment I took a sip. Shit was like petrol.” I laughed, shaking my head at the memory. “I can still taste it now.”
Callum nearly doubled over. “Mate, you were finished . You tried to fight the coat rack.”
“It looked at me funny,” I said, deadpan.
He snorted so hard he choked on his drink. “Yeah, alright, blame the coat rack.”
“Jackie really chewed us out then, didn’t she?” I said, laughing at the memory.
Callum straightened up, put on his best impression of his mum, and pointed a finger at me. “ Who drank all my good vodka ,” he said, voice pitched just right - honestly, it was spot-on.
I burst out laughing. “That’s exactly how she sounded.”
“She was fuming.” Callum shook his head. “I thought she was gonna ground me till I was thirty.”
“You deserved it,” I said, nudging him with my shoulder.
“Mate, you were the one who tried to blame the dog.”
“That dog hated me anyway,” I said, grinning.
Callum snorted. “Yeah, well, Mum hated you more that day.”
I shook my head. “Jackie could never hate me.”
“You’re right, mate, sometimes I think she likes you more than me,” Callum laughed. “She’s always asking how you are.”
“Because I’m nice to her.” I defended.
“Because you’re a charmer,” he shot back. “And you’re always telling her she looks nice.”
“That’s because she does always look nice,” I said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Callum’s mum was good-looking - everyone knew that - always put together, always smelling like she’d just walked out of some fancy shop. And even though she was in her mid-forties, you would never know it. She looked a lot younger.
“Yeah, your mum is a low-key milf,” Bryce cut in, smirking.
“No, she’s not,” Callum snapped before he could finish, voice going embarrassingly high. “That’s my mum you’re talking about.”
“What did they say about your mum?” Josh’s ears perked up immediately, like a dog hearing a treat bag.
“That she’s a-” I started.
“A milf ,” Bryce finished proudly.
Josh barked out a laugh. “Oh, what, Jackie? Right milf, mate.” He stood up and thrust his hips. “I’d show her what’s what if you catch my drift.”
The boys howled, loving how wound up Callum was getting.
“No one’s catching anything,” Callum cut in, face going red. “That’s my fucking mum ! How would you like it if I spoke about your mum?!”
He shrugged. “My mum’s not fit. Kai’s on the other hand.” Josh said, catching my gaze, eyebrows raised.
“Hey,” I said, sitting up straighter.
“Oh yeah. Those low-cut tops she wears to the games,” Adam said with a low whistle. “I’m surprised anyone can kick the ball.”
“That’s messed up,” I said, eyebrows shooting up. It came out sharper than I meant, but seriously - there were lines.
“What? On the topic of fit mums, she’s a solid contender. Not fitter than Callum’s but a contender for sure.” Josh added, nodding like he was judging some kind of competition.
“Anyone else want to throw their mum into the mix?” Bryce asked, looking around like he was taking nominations.
I dragged my hands down my face.
What the hell is going on?!
I stared at him, then at Callum, then back at the fire.
This had gone off the rails fast.
How did we go from talking about Connor Taylor to… this?
The fire crackled loudly, as if the flames were judging us.
I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head. “You lot are unbelievable.”
But they just kept laughing, and Callum kept getting more wound up, and I just sat there wondering how I ended up in a friendship group where apparently no one had a filter.
“Why are we friends with these people?” I muttered, looking over at Callum and shaking my head.
“Because they’re damn good at football,” he laughed painfully.
“Oh, yeah.” I huffed out a breath, but he wasn’t wrong.
For all their stupidity - and there was a lot of it - we made a hell of a team.
On the pitch, everything clicked. Passes landed where they were supposed to.
Runs lined up perfectly. We didn’t even have to talk half the time; we just knew.
A well-oiled machine - exactly what I needed if I was going to be as good as my dad was.
“Right,” Callum said, standing up like he was about to give a speech. “The next person to talk about my mum doesn’t get a hit of the magic powder.”
He waved the folded bit of paper Alex had given him earlier, holding it up like it was some kind of holy relic.
“My bad,” Josh said, hands up in surrender. Bryce just chuckled.
“That’s what I thought,” Callum said smugly.
“Really, guys,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re going to be swayed by… that?”
“Works every time,” Callum smirked.
I stared at him. At all of them. The way their eyes followed that stupid folded paper like it was treasure. The way the whole mood shifted the second Callum dangled it in front of them.
Idiots. Talented idiots, but idiots all the same.
I was glad I’d never touched drugs most days, but seeing all of them practically salivating over that stupid folded bit of paper… yeah. I was very glad.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to try it. I wasn’t some saint. Watching the way their eyes lit up, the way their energy spiked when they were on it - of course I’d wondered. Of course I’d thought about what it would feel like to be high, to get that rush they were always chasing.
But football meant too much to me.
That’s the difference between them and me.
The boys are good - talented, even - but they don’t have drive.
Not really. They don’t have to. Most of them come from cushy backgrounds, families with money, safety nets so thick they could fall for years and still land softly.
Whether they make it big or not doesn’t change their lives.
That’s where we’re different.
From the outside, I fit in with them. Nice house. Nice car. Money.
Well… had money.
When Dad died eight years ago, he left us a lot - more than most people ever see in their lifetime. Being a pro baller does that. But money disappears faster than people think. Bills, repairs, food, life - it all eats away at it. And one day, it’ll run out.
And when it does, it’ll just be Mum and me. No safety net. No cushion. No backup plan.
So yeah, I’m not touching anything that risks football. Not when it’s the one thing I’m good at. The one thing that could change everything. The one thing that could give Mum the life she deserves.
The one thing that might make Dad proud.
I swallowed, staring into the fire as the boys laughed about something stupid again.
They didn’t get it. They never would.
But I did.
And that was enough.