More Than the Ball (13 page)

I
t had been
two months since Dev had texted me to say he was home safely. Two months since I’d said I missed him and he hadn’t replied.

The only reason I knew he hadn’t been in a coma in the hospital was that he gave a phone interview on Radio 4 last Friday, talking about his new project. From the sound of it, he’d be back in London in another month to start filming.

I didn’t know why he’d stopped answering my texts. It was hard to get answers when the person you needed to ask wasn’t talking to you. Maybe I’d read the situation wrong. Maybe he’d just wanted a week’s fling. Maybe this thing between us, this thing I’d been obsessing over for months was nothing at all, a figment of my imagination.

I tried not to imagine that he’d gotten back together with Jordan or had a new boyfriend. Someone less complicated. Someone who’d been out for years.

I shook my head to clear it as my cab pulled up to the Chinese restaurant Jemma had wanted to meet in. I was beyond grateful that she’d wanted to stay in touch, to stay friends, after I’d ruined things like I had. This was exactly why I hadn’t deserved Jemma in the first place.

She was seeing someone else now. A club promoter who called her ‘boo’ but otherwise seemed pretty okay. I was a little surprised to find that I wasn’t jealous when she talked about him. If anything, I felt protective, wanting to make sure he treated her right.

Stepping into the restaurant, I scanned the room, spotting Jemma at a corner table. She sat up straight and waved me over.

“Hey,” I said, bending to kiss her cheek. “How are you?”

“Oh, all right,” she answered with a wave of her hand. “Trevor’s got an opening this week, so he’s extra specially high strung at the moment.”

Jemma liked to call the boyfriend ‘high strung.’ I think what she really meant was ‘touchy.’

“You need moral support?” I asked.

“No, I’m fine. Gina’s going to be there, and she’s bringing her new bloke round as well.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” I told her just as the waiter came to take our order.

When he’d gone again, Jemma turned to me with a smile. “So. How are you? Any word from Dev?”

I frowned at the table. “No. I... I think I might have wanted too much too soon.”

Jemma, because she was the world’s sweetest woman, had been asking me about Dev ever since I let it slip that I hadn’t heard from him in a while. I could tell that it still hurt a little, but she always asked about him now.

“All you did was say that you missed him, love.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but… Never mind.”

“I won’t never mind, “Jemma insisted. “I want to help.” She reached across the table and gave my hand a squeeze. “I really want to see you happy.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind being happy.”

“So tell me about Dev. I take it you two... hooked up when he was here?”

“We did,” I answered, pausing when our soup was brought out. “It was... good. I mean, it was amazing.” She smiled, and it seemed genuine, so I went on. “He stayed with me while he was here, and... I got to come home to him every night.”

“It sounds marvelous,” Jemma said softly.

“It really was.” Everything about it had been exactly what I wanted and who I wanted on top of that. I just wished Dev felt the same, but of course he wouldn't want that with me.

Dev was perfect. Talented, smart, funny, sexy as hell. He probably had guys all over him in LA. If he hadn’t accidentally called me that night, he probably would have had someone else in London too.

“Hey,” Jemma said softly, touching my hand. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry.” I shook my head. “I just... maybe this was all just a big mistake. Just one of those things you try and end up not liking. Like yoga.”

Jemma saw right through my attempt to deflect with humor. We’d known each other too long for that to work. “Is that what you think? Things didn’t work with the first guy you fucked, so oops! Back to birds, I guess?”

Outside of the bedroom, I had heard Jemma use the word ‘fuck’ maybe ten times during the three years we were together. I knew she was serious, then. She wanted me paying attention.

“I don’t know. What if it isn’t guys? What if it’s just Dev?”

“Then you’ve a long, lonely life ahead of you, Elliot. There’s no telling how long you might have to wait.”

I thought about this. Even if it was guys, I had a long lonely life to face. Being out in the Premier League was unheard of. I hadn’t even been sure I’d risk that for Dev. I couldn’t imagine there being anyone else I’d even consider it for.

“Maybe I do,” I said quietly.

Jemma stood and leaned over the table to press a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t give up on love just yet. It has a way of surprising you.”

D
EV

The doorbell.

It was ringing.

It was ringing incessantly.

It was ringing incessantly and progressively faster until it was just a series of angry-sounding buzzes all echoing on top of each other as they thundered through my town house to beat on my desperately sleepy head.

“Someone better be dead!” I yelled out to my empty house, as I grumpily stomped my way to the front door and threw it open.

“Oh, you’re home!” Kelly said, not waiting to be asked inside before shouldering his way past me. I slammed the door shut, hoping he’d take the hint and run.

He didn’t.

He just started banging about in my kitchen in a wild clang of pots and pans.

“Do you know how much sleep I have had in the past four days?” I asked him, speaking slowly and carefully, enunciating each syllable.

He turned to look at me and gave me a quick once-over. “From the look of things I’d say none.”

“Twenty minutes,” I said, as though he’d answered ‘no.’ “Twenty blissful minutes that were rudely interrupted by a psychopath having a love affair with my doorbell.”

“That? That wasn’t a love affair. That was wham, bam, thank you, man.”

“Kelly, I’m going to strangle you if you don’t tell my why you’re here in the next ten seconds.”

I felt something warm and solid being pressed into my hands, and I looked down to see a steaming mug of something dark and rich, then back up to Kelly’s face. “One…”

“Just drink it,” he said, pushing it up toward my face with two gentle fingers.

I glared at him, but I took a sip and immediately sighed, feeling the comforting heat of it spreading through my entire body. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were attempting to slowly give me alcohol poisoning.” I took another sip and opened my eyes fully for the first time that day just in time to see Kelly heading for the living room. “Irish coffee is cheating, by the way,” I added, watching as he took a seat in one of my leather armchairs and gesturing for me to sit opposite him.

“Is this an interview?” I asked, smirking.

“It’s an intervention?”

If I hadn’t had Irish coffee as a bribe, I might have walked out just then. “A one-man intervention?”

“Ms. Anna will be here as soon as she finishes brushing Mr. Whiskers.”

“His name,” I said, doing my best to look superior over the rim of my mug, “is Meowpolean Mouse-aparte.”

“No, not that one, the one with the real name.”

“Fred?”

“Yeah, that one. She’ll be over once she’s done brushing Fred.”

“Okay,” I said, taking a slow sip before continuing the thought, “what exactly is this intervention for? You’re the one who keeps bringing me booze.”

“You, my most fabulous of friends, are becoming a celibate workaholic.”

“Celibate workaholic?”

“The worst kind of workaholic.”

“Yeah, because if you can’t even pencil in a quick handjob at lunch…”

“Exactly,” Kelly said. “That’s how you know it’s really bad.”

“Hello?” I heard Ms. Anna’s voice down the hall. “Hello, boys?”

“In here, darling,” Kelly said, and soon Ms. Anna came around the corner, holding a plate of what looked like cannolis.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “Fred was no trouble, but Meowpolean just had to be brushed once he saw his brother doing it.” She held out the plate to Kelly. “Anyway, I’m here to intervene. Have a cannoli.” This last came as she offered the plate to me.

“Don’t worry at all, Ms. Anna,” Kelly said, swiping one of the cannolis. “I was just telling Dev here that he’s a celibate workaholic.”

“Oh, that’s so true,” she said. “I haven’t seen a good looking young gentleman coming through here in I don’t know how long. Except you, of course, dear,” she added, touching Kelly’s wrist and pulling up a chair next to his.

“Celibate, as I said,” Kelly agreed.

“Okay, do you really need to gang up on me like this?” I asked, trying for a light joke.

“We’re here because we love you, Dev,” said Kelly. “And because we don’t want the world deprived of decades of your genius because you burnt yourself out at twenty-seven.”

“Is this when we read the letters?” Ms. Anna asked, reaching into her purse for a sheet of paper. I tried to protest again, but Kelly talked over me.

“Yes, Ms. Anna, this is the perfect time for the letters.”

“Right.” She slipped on a pair of reading glasses and cleared her throat. “My Dear Dev, I hope you know that Kelly and I are here to help. You’re such a sweet young man, and it, well, it breaks my heart to see you cooped up working all the time. It really does. Kelly has told me all about your friend in England, and I say, if he wants to love you, you oughta let him. Lord knows we only get so much love in our lives. You can take that from someone who’s had a lot more time for it.”

She folded the paper and looked between Kelly and me a bit sheepishly. “That’s all I wrote, but I want to say too that I think everybody deserves to be loved and to be happy, but I think maybe some people deserve it even more.” She reached over to squeeze my hand and then sat back. “That’s all. You read yours now, Kelly.”

“Oh, hell,” Kelly said. “I didn’t write a damn letter. Stop being such an ass, Dev. It was stupid to walk away from the best thing that’s happened to you since you met me, and you can’t undo that by killing yourself with work.”

He sat back with a satisfied smile and then added. “Oh, and you should totally fuck that football star. I saw his ass on TV last night.”

E
LLIOT

My hands shook a little as I approached the bouncer. I wasn’t the most famous footballer in London, so I hoped I wouldn’t be recognized. The bouncer nodded to let me in without checking my ID. That was one less person to see my name tonight.

It had been Jemma’s idea for me to try a gay club. She thought it would be a way for me to figure out if it really was just Dev or if I might find someone else eventually. She’d offered to come with me, but I didn’t want to draw more attention to myself than necessary. I’d gone after a match, hoping the high of the game would carry me through the night.

I stayed on the edges of the room once I entered, sticking to the shadows. I’d been to clubs before, of course, so I had some idea of what to expect. I just hadn’t prepared myself for this.

The sexual atmosphere was practically sparking with electricity. Everywhere I looked was part of some massive show of foreplay. I’d barely made it to the bar before somebody had a hand on my back, lips to my ear. “Wanna dance, handsome?”

I turned to see a tall man, dark skin, his teeth gleaming white in the lights of the club. He was a good six inches taller than me, broad shoulders stretching the seams of his shirt. His hand scorched through my shirt, an unfamiliar desire flooding through me, tainted by a measure of fear.

I didn’t ask his name, but I let him lead me out onto the dance floor, and I leaned into his solid frame as his hands wandered over my body, leaving trails of fire across my skin. Still, it wasn’t like it had been with Dev. There wasn’t that personal warmth, that comfort, that deep knowledge of the person behind the hands.

But it still made my cock pulse in my jeans and my breath hitch. His broad hand slid down to grope me through the denim, and I groaned, my head falling back onto his shoulder. “I’m gonna get us another drink, handsome,” he said, and I just nodded, unable to make myself refuse.