Page 140 of Off the Pitch

“No thank you,” I said. “I’m not singing in public, not since you said my singing voice sounded like someone strangling an angry cat.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“You’ve said it at least six times,” I said, prepared to count them all off on my fingers if David continued to insist otherwise. “Anyway, your singing isn’t much better.”

“I never said it was.” David laughed and then let out a deep sigh as Christian started stretching. “God, his ass is amazing. I didn’t think football shorts were supposed to be that tight.”

“You’re such a perv,” I said.

“It’s worth it.” David shrugged. “How’s the recovery going?” he added to Hugo. Hugo sighed, and I chuckled as he began recanting tales of Ellie’s physiotherapy sessions, which I was sure were vastly overexaggerated.

I looked around the stadium again, watching the fans filling in as the players jogged off the pitch after their warm-ups, and the maintenance staff once again descended on the pitch to make sure it was perfect before the match started. There was a palpable feeling of excitement in the air, a low-level hum of chatter filling the stadium bowl as everyone waited for the teams to return and for the match to begin.

Even on the balcony where we were sat, which acted as a player family and friends seating area away from the bulk of the fans, I could feel the anticipation. I imagined sitting here with David, watching Christian and Hugo play, feeling giddy with excitement and cheering them on when they played well and preparing to dole out hugs and comfort if they lost. The idea of it made something fizzle in my stomach, like sherbet on my tongue. I may not have understood anything about the game, but the idea of being there for Hugo, being a permanent part of his life? That made me want to dance with happiness.

“What are you thinking?” Hugo asked as David turned to talk to the woman who’d just arrived on his other side.

“I was thinking about how good you’d look in your kit,” I grinned. “David certainly seems enamored with Christian in his, and I was wondering how I’d feel about seeing you in yours. I think I’d like that a lot.”

Hugo chuckled, lowering his voice and leaning in close. “You think you’d like to see my ass and legs in shorts?”

“Oh yes, definitely,” I said. “I’m going to force you to keep doing your recovery so I get to live out my dreams of watching you play. Although, I’m not sure I’d go so far as to take photos.”

“Well, if you ever want to see it up close, I’ll just wear some at home.”

I felt my face flush, my skin heating at his words and the promises there. “One day, I might hold you to that.”

As the match kicked off, I watched Hugo sink deeper into his seat, eyes focused on the game. He followed each player across the pitch, muttering quietly to himself occasionally or gesturing with his hands when he thought somebody should obviously be somewhere else. He was fascinating to watch, and I was almost more interested in watching him than the game.

When Christian scored, about twenty minutes in, Hugo cheered loudly, bouncing around out of his seat with a giant grin. Beside me, David let out a happy sigh, and I laughed when I saw the dreamy look on his face.

“You seem rather happy with that,” I said and nudged David playfully.

“Oh yeah,” David said in a low voice. “I’m totally letting him fuck me later. I mean look at those legs, that power. Ugh, he’s just…” He sighed longingly, staring down at his boyfriend with what could only be described as lust-filled heart eyes.

“I really didn’t need to know that.” I stuck my tongue out at him and laughed. David muttered something about me waiting until it was my turn, and I flushed, not wanting to head down that path of conversation. Especially not in public.

I didn’t want to admit that he might be right.

The idea of watching Hugo play and score was doingsomethingto my insides that I couldn’t put my finger on, but it did make my cock twitch excitedly. I loved Hugo’s legs already but seeing them in shorts for ninety minutes would probably make me love them even more. If that was possible.

The rest of the first half was a little more sedate, and nothing really picked up in the second. It was a friendly, so the pace was slower, and nobody was quite out to flatten anybody else. Greenwich seemed content with their one-nil lead and were happy to sit back and defend, with occasional forays into their opposition’s half. None of their attempts seemed to come to much, but every time they got close, the crowd cheered and screamed encouragement, willing them on.

One of the junior striker’s shots sailed over the bar and Hugo sighed, muttering something I couldn’t hear over the disappointed noise filling my ears.

“What did you say?” I asked, in case he’d been talking to me.

“Nothing,” he said. “I just said he should have passed it. Micah was open and waiting.”

“Well, he’s still young. Didn’t you say he usually plays for the under-eighteens? He’ll learn.”

“I suppose.” There was something wistful in his tone that I hadn’t caught before and suddenly the realisation of why Hugo might be being so critical smacked me around the face like a wet fish. “Are you… are you okay with watching? I mean, I know you invited me, but we can leave if this is painful for you. I don’t mind, honestly.”

“Thanks,” Hugo said. He gave me a soft smile and squeezed my knee. “It’s fine though.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. As much as I want to play again, I’m not ready yet. I’d be outrun in two seconds. Fuck, I’d barely survive the warm-up.”

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