Page 115 of Off the Pitch

Most of the advice boiled down to the same thing though: take your time, do what feels right, and talk to your partner.

That was what I intended to make sure we did anyway, but it was nice to have a little bit of back up.

Kit seemed genuinely surprised that I’d been interested in dating him, and even more so when I’d said that sex wasn’t a deal breaker. But I’d never needed sex to be happy. Sure, sex was amazing, and I got the feeling that if we ever got there, sex with Kit would be spectacular, but that wasn’t why I wanted to be with him. Something about him called to the very fiber of my being in a way I’d never experienced before. He was a sudden ray of sunshine in my grey and cloudy life, lighting up everything around him.

I needed him.

And I got the feeling he needed me too.

“Hugo… Hugo!” Kit sounded like he was about to burst with excitement. “We’re here.”

The taxi pulled over, depositing us out into the sunshine onto a pavement in South Kensington. It wasn’t hard to spot the museum—it was a large, ornate building with rounded windows that gleamed in the sunlight, almost reminding me of the cathedral I’d seen in Reims when my parents had taken me there as a child. As we followed the path leading up to the doors, I could see beautiful carvings of animals and plants decorating the curves of the windows and the edges of the building.

“It’s so beautiful,” I said quietly, giving Kit a soft smile.

He nodded, shaking his head in agreement so fast I was worried he might hurt his neck. “Yes, it is! It’s a fabulous example of Romanesque architecture, designed by Alfred Waterhouse in the late 1860s. He was a relative unknown at the time, and he actually took over the project after the original designer, Francis Fowke, who’d won a competition to design it, died very suddenly. Fowke designed the Royal Albert Hall and parts of the Victoria and Albert Museum too, so I’ve always been curious about what his vision for the museum was.” He paused, his smile dropping slightly. “Sorry, I’m being terribly boring again.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I like that you know these things. Have you been here before?”

“Once or twice.” He shrugged. “I had a nanny who thought museums were good educational trips, so she brought me at the weekend a couple of times, although she preferred the V&A so that’s where we went most. Not that she was around for very long.”

I raised my eyebrow, unsure if I should ask the question that I was thinking. Kit must have noticed because he continued without prompting.

“None of my nannies stayed very long. Either my mother hated them, or my father tried to sleep with them, and then my mother would hate them even more. And since my father hired them, he would always choose the ones he wanted to fuck, regardless of whether they were a suitable candidate or not. It was probably why they packed me off to boarding school as soon as it was an option; then they didn’t have to deal with nannies.”

“I’m sorry,” I said because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I wanted to reach out and pull him into a tight hug and kiss the bad memories away. Every time he told me a little more about his parents, or his childhood, I felt anger rising in my chest. It seemed like they’d treated Kit more like an ornament or an accessory than an actual human being. Something to be trotted out at parties to their friends or something they could use to brag about, more of a tool to use to one-up each other than a child to be loved and cherished.

I’d never understand the rich.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t as if I knew any different. I thought all children’s lives were like that, certainly several of the other boys at school had similar childhoods.” He looked up at me, trying to give me an encouraging smile, but I could see the sadness lingering in his eyes. “I suppose it’s why I’m not so good with change. In the end, everyone leaves me.”

My chest tightened, anger bubbling through me. “Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice level because I wasn’t mad at him. I was mad at everyone who had made him feel like that. “Whatever happens between us, I’ll always be here for you. Even if this doesn’t work and we end up as friends, I promise you I’ll still be here. You’re stuck with me now.”

Kit smiled at me, a little of the worry dimming from his eyes but not disappearing completely. I wondered if he’d been promised these things before… and how many people had let him down. I didn’t want to imagine how lonely his life could have been, and part of me was almost glad the pipe had burst because it had brought us together. Without that, would we have gotten to this point? I’d like to think so, but I wasn’t going to tempt fate.

“Thank you.” His voice was sweet and sincere. I watched as he took a deep breath, and suddenly his smile changed, lighting up his face again. “Shall we go inside? I can’t wait to see everything!” He bounced off down the path, towards the sweeping steps that led up to the enormous wooden doors.

I followed, wondering how often Kit did that. How often did he suppress his feelings because he thought he shouldn’t share them? And how had I not noticed it before?

The museum was amazing, and we spent hours exploring every nook and cranny, taking hundreds of random photos on our phones and pulling stupid faces as we posed next to as many dinosaur skeletons and model animals as possible. There was an extra exhibition on for Wildlife Photographer of the Year, and I paid the entry fee for us to go in, mostly so I could watch Kit’s face as he excitedly examined each photo like a little kid in a sweet shop.

The photographs themselves were stunning, and the two of us spent another hour trying to decide which one we liked best. Ultimately, we failed and ended up coming to the decision that we couldn’t pick a winner.

On our way out, we passed one of the museum’s giftshops, and I watched Kit’s eyes do a longing sweep over the display of lollipops and chocolate bars.

“Come on,” I said, turning towards the shop and waiting for him to follow. “Let’s have a look.”

We separated as soon as we walked in, Kit’s eye drawn to a shimmering display of agate slices and some prints of the photographs we’d looked at. I found myself examining a rack of sweets—pulling out a bright yellow stegosaurus lollipop that had the skeleton detailed in white over the top. It was perfect.

Next to it was a display of small, squishy rubber dinosaurs and the label underneath indicated they were stress balls. I couldn’t help but scoop one up, smiling to myself as I carried the little blue dinosaur up to the counter and placed it down next to the lollipop. The assistant must have noticed my smile because she chatted away as she wrapped them in a small paper bag, wishing me a good day as she handed me the receipt.

Kit was waiting outside the shop in the main hall, staring up at the blue whale skeleton that swooped down from the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Did you want to go and find some lunch?”

“That would be great,” he said, then looked at me with a little wrinkle between his eyes which usually meant he was thinking about something. “You know, I was sad when they said they were going to replace Dippy, the diplodocus skeleton they used to have here, with the whale, but I like it. It gives you a sense of perspective, since there are still blue whales… I hadn’t quite realised how large they are.”

I chuckled. “I’m glad. By the way, these are for you.” I handed him the paper bag, loving the incredulous expression that slid onto his face.

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