Chapter 31
AJ
Waking up next to Kyle in his bed will never not feel incredible. I prop myself up on my elbow and watch him sleep. He has a slight smile on his face, a lovely change from his scowl. I brush his fringe from his forehead and plant a kiss there.
“Good morning, handsome,” I say as he rouses.
“This is a lovely wake up. Much better than my alarm.”
“Good,” I say, planting another kiss, this time on his lips.
He props himself against the headboard, hair askew, and his brilliant eyes shining bright at me.
“I know that look, what are you thinking?”
“Come for my morning run?”
“What? I can’t. The media will spot us,” I say, feeling a pit in my stomach.
“Good. And besides, Trish will be with us; we can say we’re ‘building relations back up.’ Don’t forget, the media knows we were friends before we were football stars.”
I mull this over in my head for half a second before jumping up out of bed in all my naked glory—much to the delight of Kyle, by the look on his face.
“When we get back, I know exactly what I’m doing with that,” he says, eyeing my length. I pull back the covers, and he’s hard as a rock.
“Good, we can play my favorite formation—sixty-nine.”
We head downstairs, and Trish has prepared us a healthy-start breakfast. Her hair is in a bun, which I have been told means she is all business this morning.
“This is incredible,” I say, taking a bite of what she has dubbed a ‘protein pancake.’
“Finally, someone who appreciates my skills,” she says, shooting Kyle a look.
“Listen, whatever this chump is paying you, I’ll double it.”
“The fuck you will,” he says, digging me in the ribs.
“Fine, fine, but I’m going to be over here every home game if this is what it’s like.”
“Trust me, you won’t be saying that once we get out on the run, or when she experiments with beetroots.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” I say before shoving more of the amazing food in my mouth.
Halfway into the run, and I understand exactly what Kyle meant. Burpees. Why on earth is she incorporating them into a run? I feel like my arse is going to fall out. After the third set, I collapse to the ground.
“You’re never going to be as fit as me if you can’t keep up,” Kyle mocks, but by the look of him, he’s just as beat as me.
“Are you both gonna chit chat, or are we going to run?” Trish says, completely fine. I’m pretty sure she’s a robot. There is no way she is capable of being able to run and do burpees without needing to gasp for air.
“Run,” I say, my words hitching in my throat.
I take a sip of water and start to jog. Kyle keeps pace with me, with Trish just behind.
It’s then that I see it. A Flash. Followed by another, and then a third.
Just like in the alleyway all those weeks ago.
It could be the same person—I have a theory they all share the same brain anyway—which means we have a stalker who is leaking images to the press.
That should bother me, but it means our plan is working.
We have been photographed together, without it looking like I want to knock him out.
I can’t wait to see how the media spins this one.
Are Kyle And AJ Mending Fences?
Kyle And AJ Spotted Out for a Run Together Near Kyle’s Swanky New Pad
Running Off Steam: Kyle Looks to Outrun AJ in Park
Kyle and AJ Look Happy in Morning Run
The headlines are more happy than not, which is a good start. I refuse to look in the gutter, also known as social media, though. That shit is not good for mental health.
Looking at the headlines the following morning at Kyle’s breakfast table makes me feel safe.
Of course, some news outlets—especially the ones on the TV—still want my head on a spike, and I’m not convinced the whole police-intervention thing is going to die down until we call a press conference.
But today I have bigger things on my mind… Well, things I can control.
Gaffer Elmstrom has said he’s starting me in the European game. Win this, and we reach the semifinal. I never got a chance to play in the European competition last year, and I’m salivating at the prospect.
“Here he is, Mr. Bad Lad himself,” coos Rockwell as I enter the changing room.
“Never thought you’d be wanted by the police. It’s true what they say, always the quiet ones,” Millers chimes in.
“Enough!” roars our gaffer, his face red with anger.
“There will be no talk of this, it is a police matter. A stupid one, but one nonetheless. We focus on football. We focus on the team. That is it. We play for each other. No. Matter. What. If anyone has a problem with that. I’ll make you sit out the rest of your contract. Am I understood?”
“Yes Mr. Elmstrom!” the team says, showing the most respect possible.
I can’t help but think that was a veiled message of support.
It’s no secret that the England Boss has a direct line to my gaffer, but I doubt they would divulge personal information about me and Kyle unless it was extremely important.
“Johnson, my office.”
The sound of the demand brings a chorus of ooohs from the team and makes my heart fall through my ass.
It’s not the first time I’ve been in his office, but I always get an uneasy feeling, like he’s going to pull a lever and a trapdoor will send me to the abyss, or he’ll say I’m being released from my contract. He gestures for me to sit, and I do so with a weary look on my face.
“You can take that look off your face,” he says, as if reading my mind, which actually, increases my concerns. I take the seat as suggested.
“Relax, Aaron. You’re not in trouble. I am pissed off, though.
” I gulp. “Not at you.” I let out a breath, okay, so not so bad.
“I’m pissed at the situation you are in.
We’ve known each other for many, many years.
And I know it’s your right to come out to who you want, but I must say, it came as a shock when Henrick Muller spoke to me about it.
” I take no joy in being right this time.
In fact, if my heart were to beat any faster, it might burst out of my chest and flop around on the desk. Henrick Muller is my England boss.
“I’m sorry, Gaffer Elmstrom,” I say, not looking up but adding “sir” to put in the maximum amount of respect.
“Sorry? Don’t be sorry. I feel bad that you didn’t feel this was a safe space to confide in.”
“It’s not that, it’s well, it’s complicated.”
“With Thurston?”
My eyes pop out of my head; this is not how I expected this to go.
I nod, because words are failing me.
“As long as it doesn’t affect your on-field performance, I fully support you. Both of you. As does the club. If any players choose not to support you, they will be shipped out the door so fast their heads will spin.”
“Thank you, Coach,” I say in a small voice.
“What are your next steps? I’ll assume you want to debunk the whole assault photo?”
“That’s the plan, yes. I—well, Kyle and I—were planning on making a joint statement.” I find my voice and sit up in the chair.
“I think it’s great what you’re both doing. I see you’ve been pictured again together. I can assume this is your plan, to ease them in?”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
“They don’t call me ‘the greatest’ for nothing. I see everything. Analyze everything. Prepare for everything. Let me know when you plan to do this, and I will get the club to release a statement backing you all the way.”
“Thank you,” I say again. A ball of energy warms my core. I did not have this on my bingo card. Sure, in a dream world, yes. But not in the harsh reality.
“Now, go out there, keep being you, and get us the win tonight. We’re counting on you.”
“Yes, Gaffer Elmstrom, sir!”
I’m so pumped with adrenaline; I could run through a brick wall or charge into an army all by myself.
I head back into the locker room and get myself ready, ignoring all the looks coming my way.
“You’re still with us then,” Rohan says from across the locker room.
“Sure am,” I say, still with that cheesy grin on my face.
“Not going to knock anyone out on the opposing team, are you?” asks Rockwell. Not even he can piss in my cornflakes right now.
“Nope. I will bag a hatty though. Might even assist you with a goal,” I say, winking at him.
The locker room banter flows, and as we head out into the tunnel, hearing the roar of the crowd, we switch our game faces on.
My name is announced, and the away fans boo me. It’s been like this ever since the news hit. I wasn’t expecting it in a European game, though. No matter, it gives me extra motivation to score against them.
It only takes me four minutes to grab my first goal in the competition. A header, from Rodrigo’s cross. My name is chanted by our fans in a positive way, and it brings a smile to my face.
I don’t let the negative thoughts creep in.
The ones that ask the question: Will they still support you if they know you are gay and dating a rival player?
If they rain boos down on me, I’d still be living out my dream.
The money would still come into my account, and most importantly, I’d still have Kyle. I carry those thoughts with me.
We go in at half-time 2–0 up, thanks to my goals. The second one I chested the ball down outside the box and released a fierce right footed volley.
The second half is much the same. We control the possession, and it turns into a training game. I bag myself a hat trick and, true to my word to the syllable, I even assist Rockwell. We end up winning the game 4–0. Not bad for my first game in the competition.
As I’m heading back to the locker room, I’m grabbed by the media. My heart sinks, but I put on my best face.
“Aaron, a brilliant performance in your first ever game in this competition. How does it feel to grab a hat trick and an assist?”
“It’s fantastic, really the stuff of dreams and I’m very lucky to be able to make them a reality. It was a great team performance and we can now move onto the next game,” I say, smiling.
“And with the recent turmoil off the field, your form on it has been nothing short of brilliant.”