Prologue — Vincent
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Since our conversation in the locker room, getting us both on the same page for once, Tate and I haven’t had an issue. Actually, taking the time to talk with each other was a good start, but I think what really sealed it for us was that same night Tate came home with me and just never left.
Tate went from staying in the spare room to living in our room.
Went from being a fake boyfriend to being a real boyfriend—my live in boyfriend.
There were a few comments made around the team after we accidentally became exhibitionists, but it was all in good humour.
The worst of the remarks pretty much resolved once they realised that we wanted to be with each other, but we were just shit at communicating.
Watching Tate practice and compete in the preseason games over the last few months, though, has been exhilarating. It’s everything I never thought I would have, and so much more.
The start of the season brings with it more cameras and speculation.
As time went on, the interest had died down over the last few months, and I was na?ve to think that meant the media storm was over.
Now that we're back on the field, the spotlight is back on us—and the team as a whole—to see how we perform with a public out player, who is dating one of the team’s coaches.
It an intense feeling to be under such public scrutiny, but I’d go through something ten times worse if it meant I got Tate Stone out of the deal.
Standing in the locker room, we’re listening to Coach Graham give his pregame speech. I’m paying attention, but my eyes wander to Tate. Sitting on the bench in front of his locker, where everything happened all those months ago.
He gives me a slight grin, always knowing what this room does to me after that day.
Trying my best to shake it off, I think back to this time last year.
The start of last season, when Tate was on the field for the first time as a part of the Outlaws.
That was before our lives changed forever.
Before I became his mate, his friend, his lover.
Over the past few months of truly being with Tate has been better than anything I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. I wait for Graham, Coach Graham to finish his speech, then listen as Jonesy leads us in a chant of “out-laws, out-laws, out-laws,” and grin knowing that whatever may happen, win or lose, succeed or fail, premiership winner or not.
No matter what, Tate Stone is mine and will always come home to me at the end of the day.
I watch the team run out on the field, taking up my stance on the sideline.
Preseason has treated us well. The new players blending in with our team nicely, finding their groove and meshing well with our existing players.
I'd like to think that we've cultivated a good team here, and I can’t wait to see what this season brings us.
I grin and clap, watching as Tate runs over to his dad at his seat near the goals, like he always does before a game, and gives him a hug.
Tate and Frank welcomed me into their family fold, and I never had to doubt if he was happy that his son was with me.
It was nothing like how my parents had reacted.
We never had to wonder if he hoped that his son was with a woman instead or had an issue with the fact that I was Tate’s coach.
I nod at Frank, loving how he waves my way, like he’s here to support me too.
As the whistle blows, the ball takes off, and the game flies by in another quick match. Kick after kick. Punt after punt. The score grows and grows, until I watch with eyes light in wonder as I watch Tate kick the final winning goal yet again.
I cheer along with the crowd, relishing the good omen that is winning the first game of the season, watching as Tate embraces his teammates in cheers and pats on the back. I shake hands with the other coaches on the sidelines with me, happy to have packed away a good start to the season.
As I turn back to the field, I watch as Tate picks up the ball from where it landed behind the goals and takes off running—directly at me
My eyes widen as he stops in front of me, and hands me the ball.
“Winning ball for the winning man,” he says, handing it to me with a flirty wink.
“What are you doing?” I ask. Keeping game balls isn’t exactly something we do in this sport.
“Well, I figured everyone is watching, better off to give them a show.”
We haven't been shy about our relationship over the last few months.
Especially given the fact that it's been public from the beginning anyway.
But we've never really brought it to the field itself.
Sure, there's been some flirting asses through training, but that's training, not a professional game.
“Aren't you gonna give the winning forward a kiss?” he continues when I don’t say anything. That cocky grin on his face that I love and a determined twinkle in his eye.
“A kiss, you say? I ask with a grin, my hands gripping the ball tight.
Tate fists the front of my shirt, pulling me to him in a move that he has perfected over the last few months, and smacks the biggest smooch on my mouth.
It as tame as Tate can be, there's no tongue, but man.
I'm sure he wishes there was. The way that it leaves me feeling in my bones makes me think that there will be tongue later.
A man can only hope.
“What was that for?” I ask, grinning at him.
“That's what you should do every time I score the winning goal,” he says.
“And what’s that?” I ask.
“A public declaration of your love for me, of course,” he grins.
I roll my eyes.
“You're impossible.”
“Yeah,” he says, like he’s proud of that. “But I am yours.”
Then eyes blazing in happiness and love, he leans in and kisses my cheek before taking off across the field to join his teammates in farewelling the opposing team.
I can’t contain my happiness as I watch him, full of pride, love, and hope for the future we will have together.