More Than the Ball (7 page)

I had wanted to hold that hand. I’d wanted to kiss those fingers. What was happening to me?

Jemma was amazing. We had so much fun together. She was brilliant and creative and gorgeous. She had a dry sense of humor but was one of the most caring individuals I had ever met. I knew things had been going stale between us, but I’d just chalked it up - as Jemma had - to stress. Once things settled down a bit, we’d be fine.

But then this.

“He was
just so
pickled,” Jemma said, drawing my attention back to her.

“What?” I laughed. “What are you on about, woman?”

“He was pickled. Pickled. You know. You pickle sweet things, sour things, and spicy things. He was doing it all at once tonight. Overly sweet to me, really sour to you,” she leaned in and kissed my cheek, “sorry about that love.” Her eyebrows knit downward while she said it and her sweetness almost made me angry. I could feel the guilt building, “He was downright spicy, mean, to Dev. Maybe they had a lovers’ quarrel or something.”

I had dropped onto the couch, and she sat next to me, curled against my side. We just sat there for a few minutes, and she slid her cold hands under my sweater to warm them up. It was a habit of hers, and I generally didn’t mind it, but the chill of her hands just now was too much of a shock to my pounding heart. I jumped.

She looked at me, concerned. “Sorry love,” she said, brows knit again. “I guess they’re even colder than usual, huh?” She grabbed a blanket, pulled it around her shoulders and snuggled back against me, her head on my chest.

I sighed, took a deep breath and blew it out. If I could just ride this out, Dev would go back to the states, and Jemma and I would go back to normal. We would be fine. This doesn’t have to be a thing.
I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. I’ve just been stressed.
I told myself over and over again.

“Or do you think that Jordan is jealous of you?” she asked as if she had just realized that possibility. “Surely not, right? I mean, nothing ever happened between you and Dev, right?” she laughed. “Elliot?” She raised her face to find my eyes.

I squirmed out from under her and pulled myself to my feet, “I don’t fucking know, Jemma. Who the fuck cares why that twink was so strung out. He was probably just overwhelmed by shopping and forgot to take his fucking Adderall. Why can’t you just stay out of other people’s personal shit?” I stormed off into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

I
was running late
when I got to the stadium the next day. I’d gotten all the team shots I needed yesterday, but I still had to sit Elliot down for an interview. It was not something I was looking forward to. Jordan had been cleared out of the room by the time I got back last night, but when I woke up this morning, it had still been something of a shock to wake to an empty bed. Even worse to find he’d left his toothbrush and a t-shirt behind.

I knew I was overreacting, but it felt like he’d done it on purpose, left something to remind me of what a shit show I’d made of our relationship. It was a very Jordan thing to do, but Jordan hadn’t seemed quite like himself last night. It was almost as if the Jordan I thought I’d been dating didn’t even exist.

I wasn’t scheduled to meet Elliot until after he finished practice. We’d be filming inside the locker room, so it didn’t matter what the light was doing outside. I’d given most of the team the day off, but Colin would be joining me for the shoot.

I’d sent him a quick text to let him know I was going to be late, and I thought about sending one to Elliot as well, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to get into another epic texting session with him. I wasn’t sure I could handle it at that particular moment. I was able to admit to myself now that Jordan’s jealousy wasn’t entirely unfounded - in my restless sleep last night, it hadn’t been Jordan’s hands I dreamt of sliding over my skin - but it wasn’t as though I could do anything about it. Elliot was straight. He had a girlfriend, and in spite of myself, I liked Jemma. I didn’t want to do anything that might hurt her.

When I got to the stadium, I had to find someone to let me into the locker room, and by the time I got down there, Colin was checking his watch, and Elliot was pacing nervously in front of the chair Colin had set up for him to answer questions in.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, jogging into the space. “I haven’t figured out the Tube just yet.”

“It’s like the easiest thing in the world, Bandi,” Elliot said. It was just the sort of thing he would say, but his tone was off. It wasn’t teasing; it was annoyed, snappish.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said again, not sure how to explain that I’d been wandering down Bond Street, wondering what to do with myself in this city now that I didn’t have Jordan in tow. “Are we ready to start?”

“I’ve done sound and lighting checks already, boss,” Colin said. “Just waiting on you to get going.”

“Great. Have a seat, Elliot.” I gestured to the chair and Elliot dropped heavily into it.

I wasn’t sure exactly why he was mad at me, but I was sure it was for a good reason. None of that really mattered though, and as I took my seat across from him and picked up my notes, I said softly, “Remember this is for Coach.”

Elliot grimaced a moment, and then he straightened up and his face shifted into something professional, if not quite personable.

“Okay,” he said again, his voice tempered. “I’m ready.”

“Cool.”

I looked to Colin and he took the clapboard in front of the camera and dropped the clapper, and intoned, “Gates interview, take one.”

E
LLIOT

“Gates interview, take twenty-three,” Colin muttered, rolling his eyes before taking his place behind the camera again.

This had... not been going well. I could tell Dev was getting frustrated with me, but I just couldn’t get my head in the game on this one. Dev’s prompt that this was for Coach had at least reminded me of why I couldn’t just walk away from this. Coach deserved better from me. I wouldn’t be half the soccer player or a third of the man I hoped I was without him.

Coach always told us that if we wanted to achieve our goals, we had to reach deep inside and be true to what we found there. It’s what I always had tried to do. I followed my passion for soccer all the way to England, all the way to the headlines. But now, I couldn’t seem to face the passion that Dev had brought out in me. The passion for Dev.

“Elliot?” I was only vaguely aware of Dev’s exasperated voice, and I didn’t immediately respond. “Gates?” Dev said again, louder this time.

“Hmm?”

“I was asking you when you knew that soccer was more than just a college sport for you?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, right...” I shook my head to bring me back to reality, and out of my head. Dev sighed heavily and turned to his assistant.

“Thanks Colin; I think we’ll wrap there.”

“You got it, boss.” Colin cased the camera, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the locker room, leaving me alone with Dev in a room that could do nothing but remind me of seeing him naked, showering with him.

I could feel my face start to flush. Dev walked a few steps closer to me. “I think maybe we should call it a day,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on mine as he walked toward me. Damn it. His voice was smooth, and it spread over my body like fire, engulfing me completely. I knew in that moment that I was done fighting it. It didn’t matter, really, what this feeling made me: gay, bisexual - I didn’t care anymore. They were labels that said more about the people using them than the people they described.

I knew I’d have to face what was happening here soon enough, but I could put it off just a little longer.

“Let’s go get a drink. I could really use one,” Dev said, shrugging his bag over his shoulder.

“Fuck yes,” I sighed in relief. “More than one.”

“There’s the Elliot Gates I know and love.” I swallowed through the warmth that spread through me at his words, even though I knew he didn’t mean them that way. His hand moved to my back as we left the locker room, and I felt like I couldn’t have pulled away from the touch if I’d tried. His fingertips seared through my jacket and my shirt, spreading a trail of fire along my spine that made my balls tighten.

“I hope I’m not still the same guy I was in college,” I said carefully, not sure how he’d take that. Not sure how I meant it, really.

“I don’t think either of us are,” Dev said thoughtfully as we stepped out into the drizzle of a London fall.

“I think that’s probably a good thing.”

Dev shrugged, and he looked away, ostensibly glancing down the street for the nearest pub, though it seemed to me that he just didn’t want to meet my eyes. “I know it is for me.”

I felt in his words an ache that matched one in my own chest. More than anything, more than being able to touch him, than knowing what I wanted from him, than going back to that night and starting everything over again; more than all that, I wanted to just be a part of his life again. I wanted not to have to ask, “What do you mean?” as I pushed open the door to a pub down the street and ushered him inside.

Dev chewed on the inside of his lip and looked at me for a long moment before heading to the bar. He didn’t answer my question, just ordered himself a pint and me one as well and waved off my offer to pay.

We took our drinks to a table near the back, hidden away from the entrance. Out of sheer luck, we’d picked a pub near the stadium that had more bankers than Spurs fans. I was grateful for that, at least. The last thing I wanted right now was to be recognized by a fan.

When we’d settled at the table and each taken a long sip, Dev finally said, “I know who I am now. I mean... I knew in college, but I didn’t really accept it, you know?”

I nodded slowly. “I think so?”

Dev sighed and drained nearly his whole pint. I had to smile. It reminded me of the night the team had taken on a fraternity in a drinking contest and Dev had successfully made it through a yard of ale without spilling any. He’d become a legend.

He set down his glass without any hint of the grin he’d worn that night. “I think if I had nothing else but the knowledge of who I am and my ability to accept that... I think I could be happy with that.”

I nodded again, unsure how to respond.

He took another long drink and stared at his hands a moment. I stared too, entranced by his agile fingers, watching them curl around his glass, thinking of them curling around...

“Jordan left me.”

His confession fell dead on the table, and I looked up sharply to meet his gaze, but he was still looking down. “Fuck, man,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I suddenly remembered what I’d said to him yesterday about Kleenex boyfriends, and I grimaced. “Shit. I’m really sorry.”

Dev shrugged. “You wanna know the funny thing? I knew it wasn’t going to last. From the very start, I knew he’d move on eventually. I just... wasn’t expecting it so soon.”

It was hard to keep down the fluttering hope in my heart. I wondered if Jemma had been right, if Jordan was jealous of me and that’s why he’d left. A part of me hoped that was true. “Did you love him?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“I don’t know,” Dev answered thoughtfully before finishing his drink and giving a hollow laugh. “That’s a horrible thing to say, isn’t it? You should love someone if you’re living with them.”

I thought of Jemma. I thought of how patient she had been with me and how badly I’d been ruining things between us. “You should,” I agreed. “But... sometimes it’s not that you don’t love them.”

“What is it, then?” Dev asked, finally meeting my gaze, his warm, brown eyes pleading for some sort of hope, some sort of answer.

“Sometimes... sometimes it’s just that you don’t love them the way they need. Sometimes it’s just that you can’t.”

“Sometimes,” Dev muttered, looking away again. I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood.

“I’m gonna get us another drink. Something stronger.”

Dev glanced up with a wistful smile. “Just like old times, huh?”

I tried my best to smile back. “I don’t have any weed.”

I hadn’t meant to recall that night, but Dev’s gaze darkened slightly, and his smile deepened into something that had heat curling in my belly. “Well, damn. There goes that plan.”

I felt his eyes on me all the way to the bar.

D
EV

I lost track of how many drinks we had had. The drunker we both got the more reasons I found to touch him, and the more I read his idle jokes as flirting.

When Jordan was around, I’d tried to at least pretend I didn’t feel anything for Elliot, didn’t think of him every night. Now that Jordan had left, there was very little in the way of my feelings. I had less and less of a reason to shove them aside.

The more I drank, the more I let his jokes and teasing work their way through my body, lighting me on fire, giving me a hope I had no reason for.

The way his foot rested, just touching mine under the table. His knee was also touching mine. Somehow his chair had shifted closer. I could feel the heat of his body radiating against my side.

The bartender rang the bell for last orders, and I grinned at Elliot. “I always thought that was a myth. They really have a bell.”

“Nope, totally have a bell,” he said, laughing. “You want another?”

“Nah,” I answered, leaning a bit closer. “I think I’m good. Besides, you gotta get home and get your beauty sleep.”

“Hilarious, Bandi,” he said, laughing, and then his face looked serious. More than serious, it looked earnest. “It’s been so great to catch up, Dev. More than great. It’s been the best thing that’s happened in a while.”

I felt my face flush. I looked at him, and let my thigh fall next to his under the table. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah it has been for me too.” As I lifted my hand from my own leg, I let my fingers trail along Elliot’s thigh. Elliot’s leg jumped, and when I looked up at his face, it was flushed red.

“I should settle the tab,” he mumbled, and lumbered to his feet.

“I got this,” I protested, pulling myself upright with the help of the back of the chair on one side and Elliot’s shoulder on the other. He slid an arm around me as we made our way to the bar, and I couldn’t help leaning into his warmth. I thought I felt his fingers teasing under my shirt, but before I could think too much about it, we were at the bar, and I was fumbling in my pocket for my wallet and pulling out my card to pay.

We both slid onto barstools, but somehow Elliot’s arm didn’t leave my waist.

After the bartender handed me back my card, I heard Elliot speak in an almost breathless voice. “Can I walk you back to your hotel?” I turned and looked down and could see that he was hard. Seeing the tightness of his dick against his pants took my breath away and made my own cock twitch.