Chapter 20
Kyle
The room is abuzz with the press. Flashing lights from cameras are going off every few seconds.
My heart is beating against my ribcage, and yet—and yet—I’m feeling okay because AJ is right next to me.
He’s flashing his winning smile, and everyone is loving him.
I don’t know how he can turn on the charm so easily.
the boss, Mr. Henrick Muller, is on the other side of me in a suit that wouldn’t look out of place in a boardroom.
“Kyle, you have hit tremendous form and you have now been called up to play for the national side. How does this make you feel that you get to share this with your childhood friend?”
I lean into the microphone and feedback bounces off the walls, making me flinch back.
I clear my throat into the microphone, “Sorry about that.” The room is silent.
I can feel AJ next to me. He puts a hand on my leg, and it feels like an anchor.
If the table wasn’t in the way however, it would feel like a noose.
“I am living the dream. We are living the dream. With our dreams of one day being footballers. We worked hard, didn’t give up, and somehow, we’re here. I pinch myself every day.” There are some laughs from this, and I offer them all a smile.
“Do you think that yourself and AJ will be a handful on the international stage?”
“I know first-hand how much of a mouthful AJ can be.” I feel AJ’s hand dig into my thigh, and then he rubs his thumb on the inside of my leg, slowly moving up to my crotch. I attempt to shake his hand away when I realize what I have said and why the room is full of uncomfortable laughter.
“I’m sorry, I mean handful. I was never good at oral in school. I-I mean oral talking.” More laughter.
“I can confirm that Kyle was indeed pretty useless at ‘oral.’” The fucker is using air quotes!
“In school, but he was and still is an amazing footballer. I’m sure we can both be on the same page and help each other score.
We’re better when we’re together.” He turns and smiles at me, and my cheeks go red.
Does he not know how much trouble we could get into if someone catches on?
“No further questions,” says the boss, and with that, we’re ushered out of the press conference.
When we’re in the hallway, the boss strides up to us and asks us to follow him. All of a sudden I feel like I’m being frog-marched to the headmaster’s office.
It turns out that the boss’ office isn’t unlike our old headmaster’s one. There’s a big oak desk with a slew of papers scattered on it, a whiteboard on one wall and bookshelves on the other. Behind his desk is a huge window that looks out onto the training pitch.
AJ and I stand in front of his desk—awaiting our telling off.
The boss sits in his leather chair and stares at us.
I can feel the walls closing in again. I try to ground myself.
I think of AJ, and it helps. I want to reach out to him, but I know that will make whatever this is a million times worse.
“Is there something you lads want to tell me?” he finally says.
AJ and I look at each other, and in his eyes I can see he wants to say it. To tell our truth. When he speaks first, my breath hitches, time stands still, and I wait.
“No, Boss. It was only a bit of tomfoolery. I can assure you it will not happen again.”
“I don’t care what you call it, make sure it doesn’t happen again or you’ll be out of the squad.
There are enough rumors about gay footballers in the English league.
I can’t afford to have a media circus in the England camp.
I can’t afford for the two brightest stars England has seen in years be outed as the star crossed gay lovers. Do you understand?”
My heart wants to jump out of my chest and flop on the table.
I can feel AJ bristle next to me, and I try to use telepathic communication to tell him not to say what he wants to say. I jump in before he gets the chance, “Sorry Boss, like AJ said, it will not happen again.”
The boss grunts.
We’re home free.
“What does it matter if two of the England players were gay?”
Fuck. AJ. I look down at the ground.
“What would it matter?” I hear the boss say, “It would disrupt the training. It will pull focus away from what’s important.”
“And what’s more important than showing gay kids at home that their hero is also gay? That just because they’re gay, it doesn’t mean they can’t be a world class footballer one day? I, for one, think that’s more important than anything else.”
I don’t want to look up, but I do.
And when I do, I see the boss’ face.
He’s smiling.
“I have a gay son. And I know first-hand how much it would mean to him if he found out his favorite players were gay. But not everyone will have the same reaction. Sometimes, you have to weigh up what you think is right with the consequences. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
We both nod at him.
“Good, keep training hard. Keep focused. You’re good kids. Don’t let the whispers steer you off track. And if I may be so bold, you are both welcome in this squad as long as you keep getting results and keep your heads down. You have a home with the England squad, a protective one. Remember that.”
We thank him for his time and head back to our room, not quite believing what we have heard.
Sitting on the end of the bed, letting the events wash over me, AJ holds my hand.
He rubs his thumb in little circles across my knuckles.
The walls are trying to close in but AJ grounds me.
The boss’ words ring in my ears. He knows.
And he’s okay with it. The boulder that has been sitting on my heart feels lighter.
I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.
I don’t dare to dream of a life with AJ and being a professional footballer.
But it is looking like a real possibility.
I place my head on AJ’s chest, and he strokes my hair. The world around me melts away.