More Than the Ball (6 page)

I texted Jordan, and he agreed to meet me at one of the restaurants.

He arrived about twenty minutes later, and I picked a restaurant at random. There wasn’t any wait, so we were seated in another few minutes. While we were still looking over the menu, the proprietor came over, grinning, and I braced myself for what I knew was coming.

His arms were thrown wide, and he began to speak, babbling in a quick Hindi. I took a slow breath to temper my annoyance. “I’m sorry,” I said, as soon as he’d finished his greeting. “I don’t speak Hindi.”

“Oh!” He said, eyebrows raised in surprise, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh, sorry! Sorry! Welcome. We are so pleased to have you here.” He turned his gaze to Jordan and nodded to him as well. “Both of you. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, wanting him to leave as quickly as possible.

He disappeared in a flurry of motion a moment later, and I let out a low groan.

“What?” Jordan asked. “I thought he was sweet.”

“He was,” I agreed. “Very sweet. I just... hate it when that happens.”

“When what happens?”

“That whole... assumption that I speak Hindi, and then the disappointment when I don’t.”

Jordan waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal, babe. It was, like, a minute.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…” I frowned. This wasn’t a conversation we’d had before. It wasn’t like I’d brought Jordan home to my family. “It always makes me feel like I’m not good enough.”

“Oh, come on, Dev. Just because you don’t speak some stupid language? Who even cares.”

I shook my head, looking away. “I do,” I said quietly, and then the waiter came to take our order, and the conversation slipped away.

I
n general
, the team practiced outside of London at the Spurs practice facility, but Dev had apparently pulled some serious strings because we’d moved to White Hart Lane, the stadium, for the day. I had to admit, it made for much better shots. Jemma had sent me off with an enthusiastic hug before asking if she could meet us after practice. She was still convinced that seeing him was going to be good for me.

The trouble was, I was starting to think she was right, and that terrified me.

I got to practice a little early to get my kit on and get out onto the field before Dev got there. I wanted to remember that this was
my
dominion. This mysterious control he seemed to have over me, it couldn’t exist in my domain, because there, I made the rules.

I walked down the domed tunnel onto the field. My teammates weren’t with me. Most of them were still at breakfast or with the trainer, but I had wanted to have the field to myself.

The quiet took me over for a moment. What a priceless hush. As I came out of the tunnel my eyes darted to the sky, as they almost always did. Blue sky, a few clouds, a bit of a breeze. My qaze swept across the field, and I saw him.

For a moment, it felt as though my heart stopped. Dev was grinning at me from the middle of the pitch, the white of his collared shirt contrasting with the darkness of his skin. God he was beautiful.

I’d thought so even before that day in college. You could tell just by watching him the sort of person he was: the calm surety in his step, that tendency to notice
everything.
I hadn’t seen even one of his movies since we had lost touch, but I had always dutifully watched every one of his student films, and I knew what his sense of detail brought to his craft.

Just seeing him smiling at me seemed to drain the tension from my body. I couldn’t be nervous around Dev. I never had been.

“Bandi!” I yelled at him as I jogged over. “You beat me to my own house!”

“I wanted to get here first, check out things a bit without you distracting me,” he called back. “It’s been a long time, man,” he added more quietly when I reached him. I offered him my hand, but he ignored it and pulled me into a hug.

“Yeah, it really has,” I said, easing into the embrace.

When he hugged me, his body fit so perfectly against mine that it was difficult to not feel like Jemma was right. What if Dev
was
unlocking something inside of me? Probably not what she was thinking of at the time. But what if that night back in college hadn’t been a fluke? An innocent experiment?

I shook off that fear, stepping back from the hug a little too quickly.

“You’ve got a lot more clout than I gave you credit for,” I said, taking another careful step back.

“What d’you mean?” Dev asked.

I gestured to the stadium. “You moved the Spurs, man.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, that was down to Colin. He... may have blackmailed your coach. He can be pretty persistent when he wants to be, and I don’t look to closely at his methods.”

“Colin... your boyfriend?” I asked. It didn’t seem like that was the name he’d said before, but I couldn’t really be sure. I had been trying not to think too much about it.

“Colin, my assistant,” Dev corrected. “Jordan is the boyfriend. Keep up, man. God, it’s like you haven’t seen me in five years or something.” He was grinning, and it was infectious. I felt my face stretching into a smile.

“Man, I don’t know. I figured you were the type to have Kleenex boyfriends.”

“Kleenex boyfriends?”

“Yeah, you know, use them, make a mess, throw them away…” I was trying for a joke, something like the way we’d ribbed each other in college, but Dev’s grin slipped, and he looked down at the grass a moment.

“Well, Jordan’s been around for a few months at least. With any luck, I won’t make a mess of him.”

I grimaced. “Sorry, man. That was... yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s cool.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder, and then his gaze shifted to something behind me. I turned to see several people carrying in what I assumed was film equipment.

“Wow, you brought your whole entourage, huh?”

Dev shrugged. “Nobody makes a movie all on their own.” He laughed. “Well, some people do, but it’s a pain in the ass.”

“You’ve come a long way from running around campus with your GoPro, huh?”

“Not as far as you’ve come,” Dev answered with a laugh. “You’re making headlines.”

“So are you,” I argued as his crew approached. “Saw a review of your last one in the
Guardian
. They were raving, man.”

As usual, Dev shrugged off the praise. I’d always liked that about him. He played cocky when it came to soccer - which he was good at but not professional level - but when it was about his films - something he had serious talent with - he just shrugged it off. “I had a lot of fun with that one.”

“I’m glad,” I said, but before I could say anything else, his crew was descending. A tall, skinny guy with a serious hipster moustache and his hair slicked back like a 19th century barman approached me with a huge grin.

“Is this the guy?” he asked, and Dev slung a proprietary arm around my shoulder.

“This is him,” he agreed. “Elliot, meet Colin Brookes,” he said, and I offered a hand to Colin, who shook it warmly. “Colin, this is Elliot Gates, the best forward ever to grace the field at PCU.”

“I think that’s taking it a little far,” I protested.

“Do you or do you not still hold the record for most goals in a championship game? In the league, I might add, not just the university.”

I shrugged, smirking. “I had a lot of fun with that one.”

“Touché,” Dev said with a laugh.

“So, where’re we setting up, boss?” Colin asked, glancing between the two of us with a shrewd look that made me slide out from under Dev’s arm uncomfortably.

“I think we’ll want some shots from the stands as they practice, a few of the empty pitch before, if we can manage in the time we’ve got... get me some close-ups on Elliot here and his magic footwork,” he added, his hand moving back to my shoulder just as I was starting to pull away to leave them to their work. “And can we get some of you in your game kit?” he asked, turning to me. “Before you get all sweaty?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” I said. “I’ll just need to run to the changing room.”

“Sure thing,” Dev said, finally letting me go. “We’ll get set up while you change.”

As I jogged back to the tunnel, my coach was coming out. He nodded to the film crew. “They gonna get in my way, son?”

“Nah,” I said, turning back to watch as Dev directed his team around the field. “He respects the game.”

“Good,” Coach said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I’m trusting you to keep him in line if you need to.”

“I won’t need to,” I said. “I never have.”

I
t was
a long day with the crew there. The team seemed to fall into two camps on the subject. Half of them were teasing me all day about my fan club. The other half grumbled about the cameras getting in their way, though most of the grumbling tapered off when they saw how conscientious Dev was being about making sure he wasn’t a nuisance.

Even Coach stopped me once to tell me he was impressed. “You were right, Gates,” he said after he’d actually chatted to Dev for a minute or two. “He respects the game.”

After practice, I had lunch with the team while Dev stayed on the pitch to pick up some shots of... god only knows what. An empty stadium? After lunch, I had a quick meeting with the trainer before heading back to the pitch so Dev could get a few shots of just me.

I’d expected it to be awkward, but really it was just like hanging out with Dev had always been: laidback and easy. He made me feel like myself, and it was easy to follow his directions when he was hollering ridiculous things at me from the sidelines.

“Oh come on!” he’d say as I jogged down the pitch to make a goal on an unguarded net. “Put your back into it. Make the ladies swoon!”

“Swoon?” I asked, when I’d finished the run and jogged back to him.

He shrugged. “Whatever works, man. And you know ladies are swooning over you. Jessica over there hasn’t stopped drooling since she saw you.”

I glanced over at the blond camerawoman, expecting her to be embarrassed by Dev’s comment. She just smiled. “You fill out the shorts nicely.”

Most of the shoot went like that. It was kind of amazing to see Dev work. He was completely in control, calm and focused. He knew exactly what to do to get the results he wanted, and if something wasn’t working right, he just stepped back for a second before approaching it a different way until it turned out exactly as he wanted it.

We only wrapped when the sun started to set and Dev lost his light. I hit the showers while the crew packed up their equipment. It was dark by the time I left the stadium, but not dark enough that I didn’t see the thing I was most afraid of seeing: Jemma and Dev, standing together outside the entrance, chatting like old friends.

“There’s the man himself,” Jemma said, grinning. I made my way over to them and forced a smile as Jemma leaned up on her toes to kiss me. “I was just getting acquainted with Dev here. You never told me he was so handsome.”

Dev’s glance flicked over to me momentarily, and I thought I saw something like fear on his face as well, but it was gone a moment later, and he smiled at Jemma. “I like to think my brain is my sexiest feature.”

Jemma laughed, and I slid an arm around her waist, mostly to remind myself that she was my girlfriend and I loved her. I loved having her next to me. She fit against my side in a way that was comfortable and familiar. “Oh, I’m sure it is. Perhaps I’ll have a chance to get to know it better over dinner?”

“Dinner?” I asked. I wasn’t entirely blindsided by the request, but I had been hoping to get out of it.

“If you don’t have plans already,” she added, looking to Dev.

“No plans,” he said. “Just let me tell Jordan where he should meet us.”

“Great!” Jemma said.

“Great!” I echoed, hollowly. This was going to be a long evening.

I
don’t know
what possessed me to accept Jemma’s invitation. Having dinner with both Jordan and Elliot - not to mention Elliot’s girlfriend - seemed like the least pleasant way to spend an evening in London, and that includes running into Jack the Ripper. Jordan bitched at me over the phone when I asked him to come.

“You want me to have dinner with you and your hot, successful, soccer star ex-boyfriend?”

I was glad I’d stepped away from Jemma and Elliot to make the call. I didn’t need them overhearing even half of this conversation. “He’s not my ex, and his girlfriend will be there. She’s really sweet. You’ll like her.”

“I’m sure we’ll have a
lot
in common,” Jordan grumbled. “Where is this disaster waiting to happen supposed to occur?”

“The Harwood Arms,” I said. I didn’t expect him to recognize the name, so I added, “It has a Michelin star.”

“Of course it does,” Jordan huffed, but I could tell he was coming around. “I’ll see if I can catch a cab.”

“Thanks, babe,” I said, exhaling in relief.

“Yeah, yeah. See you soon.”

That was half the battle, at least. I had no doubt Jordan would be grumpy, but at least he’d be there. I needed the support if I was going to watch Elliot and his girlfriend together all night.

J
ordan was twenty minutes late
, which meant twenty minutes I had to spend trying to make nice with Jemma.

She
was
sweet. Really sweet. And she seemed to really want to get to know me, which made it that much harder to be harboring lustful feelings toward her boyfriend. I avoided Elliot’s gaze as much as I could, but Jemma kept asking us about stories from college. She wanted to hear my side of all the things Elliot had told her already.

“I was
not
wearing a lampshade!” I protested after Jemma recounted a story Elliot had told her about the final game of our freshman season. “It was one of those stupid cheesehead things. Nobody actually gets drunk and puts on a lampshade.”

“Except Petey,” Jemma put in. “Remember that one, Elliot?”

They shared a laugh that was clearly between two people who were used to sharing stories, to having been present for each other’s memorable moments. I could remember laughing like that with Elliot once upon a time, and it settled like a weight on my chest to see him sharing that with someone else now.

They were just finishing the Petey story when Jordan finally arrived, breezing into the restaurant and dropping several shopping bags under the table. “Hello, hello,” he said with a smile that was clearly not sincere. “Sorry I’m late. I found a slew of sales on Bond Street.” He slid into the empty seat next to mine and kissed my cheek.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jemma said. “I know how difficult those are to resist.” She offered her hand with an open, friendly smile that made me feel even worse than I already had. She was not going to find such a warm welcome from Jordan, I was sure. “I’m Jemma.”

Jordan gripped her fingers momentarily and then released them. “Jordan. So good to meet you.” His eyes slid over to Elliot, and they narrowed slightly. “And this must be the famous Mr. Gates.”

Elliot huffed out an awkward laugh. “I guess? Just Elliot is fine. It’s nice to meet you, Jordan. Dev’s told me a lot about you.”

“Has he?” he asked, smirking in my direction. “I wouldn’t have thought the subject came up.”

“Of course it did, babe,” I protested, trying to steer the conversation away from Jordan’s attempt at sabotage. “Elliot and I had a lot to fill each other in on. I wasn’t about to leave you out.”

“Of course not, darling,” he said, his voice cloyingly patronizing. He turned his attention to Jemma, then, and I shifted nervously in my seat. “Jemma, I
love
your scarf. Where did you get it?”

To my great relief, Jemma and Jordan managed to talk about shopping until the waiter arrived to take Jordan’s drink order. Elliot and I were silent the whole time, and any relief I felt quickly dissipated when Jordan ordered himself a whisky before any food was brought.

I wasn’t sure I would survive this meal. I wasn’t sure any of us would.

S
omehow
, we did indeed survive. Jordan limited himself to the one whisky and two glasses of wine. For him, that’s practically abstinence. Poor Jemma played peacemaker the whole time, and Jordan was determinedly snarky with me, syrupy sweet to Jemma, and icy cold to Elliot. I was going to have to apologize tomorrow.

For now, I just shuffled Jordan into a cab and did my best to get back to the hotel without any explosions.

Jordan stayed silent for the whole ride, arms crossed, glaring out the window. I let him stay quiet. It was cowardly of me, really. I wanted to put off the massive fight we were heading toward for as long as possible.

The silence lasted through the whole cab ride, across the hotel lobby, and straight through the elevator until we got into our room. I knew, though, that as soon as I shut the door, it would break.

No sooner had the latch clicked, then Jordan wheeled on me. “What the fuck was that?”

“Wait, what?” I asked, at a loss for what exactly had upset him so much.

“You and Dev making cow eyes at each other all night.”

“Cow eyes? Jordan, I don’t know...”

“No,” Jordan snapped. “No, don’t give me that bullshit. God, Dev, even you couldn’t be that oblivious.”

“Oblivious to what? Babe, I...”

“Don’t you dare call me babe. Not now. Not after...”

“After what!? Seriously, Jordan. Please tell me what’s upsetting you.”

Jordan stormed out of the entrance way, stomping into the living area and headed straight for the wet bar.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” I asked.

“Oh, I’ve absolutely had enough. I’ve had enough of you and your inability to commit. Your refusal to take me seriously. Your... your
obsession
with your college fuckbuddy...”

“My... my inability to commit? Jordan, you
live
with me.” I dropped onto the couch, head in hands. I’d known something like this was coming for a long time. Since our relationship started, in fact. I was a starter boyfriend for Jordan, someone to get a foot up with, introduce him to more interesting people. I didn’t even think he was taking the relationship seriously.

“Yeah, Dev, I live with you,” he mumbled, taking a tiny bottle of whisky from the bar and downing it. “You take care of me like a good boyfriend. We fuck, we go out, we stay in… I fucking
love
you, Dev Bandi. You just...” He trailed off, and I watched him floundering. It was such a strange thing to see Jordan at a loss for words. He always had something to say. But what he just said, it floored me. He’d never told me he loved me before, and I’ve never said it to him.

I got up and crossed the room to him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “I just what, ba- Jordan?”

He sighed. I wasn’t expecting his proclamation of love, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. All the tension slid out of him and he turned to me. Without thinking, I pulled him into my arms and he rested against my chest. “You just keep me around so you won’t be lonely.”

My arms tightened around him, and I opened my mouth to speak, but I had to close it again immediately. Some part of me knew he was right. Jordan was just a placeholder for me. I hadn’t let myself feel guilty about that because I assumed I was the same for him.

When I finally did speak, all I said was, “I... I didn’t know. Jordan...” I buried my face in his neck and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

He let me hold him, but his arms didn’t move around me. For a long moment, we just stood in the bar, until finally, Jordan pushed me back gently, and I let my arms drop.

“I know, Dev. I know, and that’s why I stuck around. I guess... I just kept hoping you’d come around. I knew you didn’t mean to use me.”

Use, make a mess, and throw away. That’s what Elliot had said. Was he right? I’d definitely made a mess of Jordan, despite my best efforts.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, knowing that didn’t begin to make up for anything.

“I know,” he repeated. “I... I think I’m going to go home.”

“Of course,” I said, taking a step forward. “I’ll change our flight. We can leave first thing.”

Jordan held up a hand to stop me. “I mean I’m going to go home alone. You stay and finish your work. I’ll be gone by the time you get back.”

“What? No, Jordan, we can... this doesn’t have to...”

“We can’t and it does, Dev. Stop doing this to me. Stop doing it to yourself. You don’t want a relationship, at least not with me. Elliot... God, I don’t even know. I don’t blame you for it. He’s fucking hot, and you two have a history. Or whoever. Just not me.” He went to the sink to get himself a glass of water and then pulled out his phone. “I’m going to try to fly out tonight. Could you... maybe head to a bar or something until I’m gone? I don’t think I can do this with you around.”

I frowned, and I really, really wanted to protest. I did love Jordan, in some way, just not in the way he wanted me to. “I... yeah, I can do that,” I said, taking a step back.

Jordan nodded and fiddled around on his phone a moment before looking up. “I’ll be out by eleven. I can catch a red-eye from Heathrow to LA.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling numb all over. This was not the end I’d envisioned for this relationship. Then again, maybe the fact that I’d envisioned one at all meant it was doomed from the start. “Can I…?” I leaned toward him a little, not sure how to ask, not even sure what I was asking for.

“Have a kiss goodbye?” Jordan asked, and he laughed softly. “No, Dev. No kiss goodbye. I don’t need to fall into bed with you right now.”

“That good, huh?” I said, trying to tease, though it fell flat.

“Go to the bar, Dev.”

I nodded, moving toward the door.

Just as my hand touched the handle, Jordan said, “Hey, Dev?”

“Yeah?” I turned back to him, hopeful.

“Tell Jemma I said good luck to her.”

I nodded again and then stepped through the door and out of Jordan’s life.

E
LLIOT

I was quiet on the way home. At first Jemma didn’t notice. I mean, everyone is quiet sometimes. Jemma never begrudged me this, and I always let her be quiet when she needed to be. It was one of the best parts of our relationship actually. But as we walked into our flat she said to me, “What do you suppose all that was about?”

“All what?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“All that with Jordan? He seemed rather upset. Do you think he was just annoyed that dinner was so last minute? I hope he didn’t change any plans to be there.”

“I really don’t know.” I said, maintaining as much distance to the subject as I could. I didn’t want to talk with her about this. Not yet. I really didn’t know what was going on with me. I tried to focus on Jemma, on this moment and this conversation, but all I could think of was Dev.

Through all of dinner, I didn’t care about how Jordan was treating me, or that Jemma was there at all, all I cared about was Dev’s beautiful eyes, those long, dark lashes, his muscled arms, the broadness of his shoulders, the strength of his hands as he squeezed his fists together.