Chapter 30
KAI
I’d had another shitty sleep last night.
I didn’t know what it was about Alex, but something about him had my brain running laps. I’d never felt like this before - not about my friends, not about my exes, not about anyone.
And I had no idea what to do with that.
There was something different this time. Something that scared me. At first, I thought it was just curiosity - the normal kind, the harmless kind.
But now… now it felt like something else entirely. Like my lungs didn’t quite know how to breathe when I was around him, but they didn’t know how to breathe without him either.
I didn’t know what that meant.
But either way, I felt like I was fucked.
I’d never thought of myself as someone who cared about all that - getting to know people, getting close to them, figuring out feelings.
I’d never been that guy. But with Alex… I couldn’t explain it.
Every time I saw him, I wanted to be near him.
Close enough to hear him laugh. Close enough to see the way his eyes softened when he relaxed.
I knew he was gay. Everyone did. Heard the whispers when he came out a few years back. I never thought anything of it. He was just a kid who happened to be gay. It had nothing to do with me. I couldn’t relate, and I didn’t think I ever would.
But now…?
I didn’t know.
I knew one thing, though - I didn’t want to be… you know. That word. I’d never thought of myself as anything close. I mean, I’m a footballer. There isn’t a single pro player I can name who’s openly gay. Not one. And if I was going to go pro, I couldn’t be either. I mean, what would people think?
I’d always been confident. Sure of myself. But now? Now I felt like a kid - a confused little kid who’d lost their mum in a supermarket aisle.
My mind wouldn’t shut up. Wouldn’t slow down. Wouldn’t let me breathe.
And I knew what I had to do.
I had to stay away from Alex. Stick to the original plan. Focus on the ball. Focus on my future. Even if a part of me already knew that wasn’t going to be as easy as it sounded.
“Alright, cap?” Bryce said, patting me on the back in the changing rooms. “You look like you’re away with the fairies.” He squinted at me like he was trying to read my mind.
“I’m fine.” I nodded quickly, forcing the thought out of my head. “Just thinking about how we’re going to thrash these idiots once and for all!” I stood up, clapping my hands together, letting the captain voice take over.
“Yes, Cap!” Anderson shouted, bouncing to his feet and pulling me into a man hug that nearly knocked the wind out of me.
“You heard him!” Callum yelled from across the room, slamming his locker shut like it was part of the hype. “Let’s go out there and finish them!!!!”
The lads roared, the whole room vibrating with adrenaline and ego and noise - exactly the kind of atmosphere I usually thrived in. But even as I shouted with them, even as I slapped backs and bumped fists and played the role I’d always played…
A part of my brain was still somewhere else. Still with him.
As my eyes drifted around the changing room, I looked at my teammates - their torsos, their boxer briefs, the way they carried themselves. None of them did anything for me. Nothing. I’d been around lads in changing rooms my whole life and never thought twice about it.
So why was Alex suddenly making me question everything I thought I knew about myself?
Before I could spiral again, Coach walked in, clapping his hands. “Alright, boys. Westley just arrived.”
A few of the lads howled like wolves, the usual pre-match chaos kicking off.
“What’s the crowd like out there?” Anderson asked, adjusting his shin pads with way too much intensity.
“Not bad,” Coach said. “More on our side than theirs, which we always like to see. Game starts in half an hour. If you want to warm up, now’s the time.”
“Alright, team, you heard him,” I said, slipping back into captain mode because it was easier than thinking. “The wankers are here. Let’s get out there and show them how the professionals kick a ball.”
The room erupted - shouting, chest-bumping, all that testosterone-fuelled nonsense that usually got me buzzing. The lads piled out of the changing room, hyped and loud.
Callum slung an arm around my shoulders. “Alfie Preston is mine,” he said, dragging a finger across his throat like he was in some action film.
“Not if I get there first, mate.” I lifted my brows, smirking.
Alfie Preston…
Just the thought of beating him - outpacing him, outplaying him, outsmarting him - should be enough to keep my mind off Alex.
That was the plan, anyway.
Focus on the rivalry. Focus on the game. Focus on anything but him.
Running out onto the pitch to the cheers of Belrose felt electric.
It always did. I loved it. Not just loved it - I thrived off it.
Every time I stepped onto that grass, my mind jumped ahead to the future.
To stadiums instead of school fields. To fifty thousand people instead of fifty.
All of them there for one thing: the game.
All of them with the same fire in their chest that I had.
The same obsession. The same adoration for football. For players like my dad had been.
Being part of something bigger - a team, a brotherhood, a world where everyone understood the same language, the same way of life - that was the goal.
That was the dream.
Yeah, it was nice playing for Belrose, and although the town treated school matches like the World Cup, it was still small.
Still limited. And half the lads on my team weren’t in it the way I was.
Not really. For some of them, football was just fun.
Or a way to blow off steam. Or something to brag about.
But for me?
It was everything.
It was air.
And I would die before I let anything get in the way of it.
As we warmed up, Alfie glared at Callum and me from across the pitch, stretching like he owned the place. I shot him a look back, and Callum pretended to pull a middle finger out of his pocket and flick it at him.
“What else you got in your pocket?” Alfie called out. “Your brain in there? ’Cause it sure as hell ain’t in your head.”
“Why you little-” Callum lunged forward, but I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back.
“Not yet,” I said firmly, my studs sinking into the ground. “You get a red and you’re out. I need you up front with me or Westley are going to eat us alive.”
Callum growled under his breath. “He’s such a prick. He’s doing it on purpose.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. And I want to shut him up as much as you do. But we do it in game time.” I said, rolling out my ankles.
Callum joined me stretching. “Okay, but if he comes at me like that in the game, I don’t care if I get a red - he’s tasting dirt.” He held out his hand like he was making a blood pact.
“Just do me a favour and wait until we’re up a few goals,” I said, taking it.
“Deal.” He slapped my hand, sealing it.
We both looked back at Alfie, who winked at us with that smug little smirk before taking a shot at the goal like he was starring in his own highlight reel.
“Such a prick,” I muttered, echoing Callum’s earlier words. The goalkeeper dived but missed, and Alfie planted a foot on his back like he’d just won the Champions League. “Defender or shooter, I can do it all!” he shouted, arms wide, milking the moment like the show-off he was.
I rolled my eyes - classic Alfie - but then he looked out into the crowd and blew a kiss.
My eyes followed his.
It wasn’t.
No. It was.
Alex Taylor was in the crowd.
And he wasn’t here for me. Or for Belrose. He was here for Alfie .
Something in my chest tightened - sharp, hot, irrational.
Anger?
Jealousy?
I didn’t know.
I didn’t want to know.
What was he doing with a prick like Alfie Preston?
I knew they worked together, but I thought that was it.
Fuck.
I was supposed to be thinking about anything but Alex. I’d promised myself that. Sworn it. But here we were - dragged back into each other’s orbit like the universe was having a laugh at my expense.
His eyes found mine across the pitch, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
And before I could stop myself, I smiled back.
Fuck me.
What was I going to do?
Because suddenly the game didn’t feel like the only thing I was fighting for.
Or fighting against.