Page 211 of Off the Pitch

“Thanks.” I hadn’t told Raphael I was here on a date, but he seemed to be treating it like one. Wait, was this a date?

I guessed it was. I mean it had all the hallmarks of a date. Huh, I couldn’t remember when I’d last been on a date either. Most of my interactions with men were limited to bars, bedrooms, and occasionally bathrooms or sun loungers. Being at a restaurant with Jordan was… nice.

“This is incredible,” Jordan said, his eyes roaming the restaurant again. “How’d you find this place?”

“Met Raphael upstairs a couple of years ago and asked if he knew anywhere good to eat. He brought me down here, and the rest is history. It’s the first place I come when I’m back in London.”

“I can see why.” Jordan smiled, taking a sip of his newly arrived beer. “Thanks for sharing it with me.”

My stomach did a little flip that had nothing to do with hunger. “You’re welcome. There’s no one I’d rather share it with.”

We spent hours at Raphael’s.

The food was amazing—a big plate of carne asada that melted in the mouth with drunken black beans and blue corn tortillas and another plate full of prawn and potato tacos topped with the most delicious roasted tomato salsa and a side of fried plantains that made my soul sing with happiness. I’d thought I was full until Raphael produced the most rich and delicious coconut and caramel flan and slices of Tres Leches cake. By the time I’d finished, I was ready to explode. I didn’t want to do anything for the rest of the evening except move very slowly and unbutton my jeans. But after the food, we just couldn’t stop talking. We switched from beers to coffee and rich hot chocolate and then to water. We talked about movies and video games and other sports. I was a massive American football fan, since I spent a lot of time there, and I was delighted to discover Jordan was too. Although our conversation quickly descended into playful teasing as soon as we discovered we supported different teams.

I told Jordan about my travelling and my favourite places to visit. He told me about the places he wanted to see, and each time he mentioned somewhere new, I made a mental note to take him there one day.

That should have terrified me even more. I never, ever planned beyond the next morning with a man, and now I was thinking about elaborate trips to Amsterdam and New York and Honolulu. What on earth was wrong with me?

“So,” Jordan said. “Out of everywhere you’ve been, where’s your favourite place?”

I thought for a moment. There was only one answer to that question. “Lisbon,” I said. “I have a little flat there I bought when I was in my early twenties. It’s nothing fancy at all, but it’s the only place I’ve ever called home.” Jordan nodded in understanding. I knew the question he was going to ask before he asked it, and I braced myself for it.

“Why Lisbon?”

I sighed, trying to decide how I wanted to answer. Did I want to be honest with him? Did I want to lay out my past for him to examine, making myself more vulnerable than I’d been with someone in a long, long time? It was obvious he didn’t know my history, and I appreciated that he hadn’t gone looking.

“I played football there,” I said, tilting my water glass and watching droplets slide down the inside, leaving little trails in the condensation. “I started my career there, and I fell in love with the city, so I bought the flat.”

“I didn’t know you played,” Jordan said. “Why did you stop? Injury?”

“No. But that would have been better.” I took a deep breath, trying to work out how to frame the words. “The club found out I was gay, and they decided to end my contract.”

“What. The. Fuck?” Jordan’s words were laced with surprise and fury. “No fucking way. What the actual fuck? Why?”

“I’ve asked myself that question a million times,” I said. “I got caught with a man at a club by a guy from the team. He told everyone, and they told me they didn’t want me on the team. They basically ignored me from that point. I was twenty-two, and I didn’t know what to do. I kept trying, but they broke me. They told me nobody wanted me there, and they didn’t want to play with someone like me. Then the press found out. And after that, the club decided it would just be better to let me go. They paid me a huge sum of money to go away and never tell anyone the truth. And that was it. I loved football. It was my life… but in the end, football didn’t love me.”

“I-I’m so fucking sorry,” Jordan said. His voice cracked as he slid his hand across the table to grip mine. “That’s so fucked up. Seriously. I’m so fucking angry for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, nodding my head. I felt open and raw, like I’d cut a hole in my chest and poured out the darkest bits of my soul. I’d let Jordan see the deepest recesses of my heart, the parts I kept hidden from everyone, and I wasn’t sure whether I felt better or worse for it.

“Shit, that’s so fucking awful,” Jordan said. “How could they do that to you?”

“I don’t know. Lots of people don’t trust gay players. I’ve met players in the closet before, but none of them would ever consider coming out, not even to their teams. I don’t think it’ll ever change.”

“That’s fucked up,” Jordan said. There was something in his words that made me stop, a tone that suggested there was something he wanted to say. “Look, I’m gonna tell you something, but you have to promise to keep it secret.”

“Of course.” I wondered if that had something to do with Liam’s words at the hospital.

“Okay, so”—Jordan leaned in towards me and glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, then lowered his voice—“there are two guys at Greenwich who are out, not in public, not yet anyway, but they’re out to the team.” Something inside me tensed, my instincts setting me on high alert. “Christian is gay. He came out last year around this time. He’s got a boyfriend too, a guy named David. They’re proper cute together. David’s smart and funny, and he totally gets Christian. He’s really good for him. Anyway,” Jordan waved his hand as if that wasn’t the point he was getting at, but the tension in my chest eased fractionally, replaced by a tiny flame of hope. “That’s not my point. Hugo’s out too. He’s pansexual, and he’s got a boyfriend too. Actually, his boyfriend, Kit, is David’s best friend. He’s a little airy, but he’s sweet. Hugo fucking dotes on him. They actually bought the house next to Christian’s because David and Kit are so close.” He chuckled. “Anyway, when Christian came out, he was super worried about what everyone was gonna say, but we were all fine with it. He told Liam, Hugo, and me first, and honestly, he was so nervous I thought he was trying to tell us he was leaving Greenwich or something. I mean, I get why he was nervous now, but the whole club’s been great about it. They had us sign an NDA just in case, but I don’t think anyone would out him. I mean, we love Christian. And when Hugo told us about Kit, none of us were surprised. Actually, that’s a lie, I thought it would take him a lot longer than it did to get his head out of his ass about his feelings for Kit. And then there’s your brother. He’s made the club into this place where people feel safe, and I know he’d never judge any of us if we came out. He just accepts us the way we are. He was actually the first person Christian told, and he was the one who encouraged him to tell us. I know that when I’m ready to tell everyone, it won’t really be a big deal to them. They’ll just be happy for me.”

Jordan gave me a smile and squeezed my hand, the little flicker of hope in my chest eased some of my pain. Perhaps things could be different now. Perhaps players wouldn’t have to suffer the way I did or lose everything they’d worked so hard for. I’d never realised my brother had done that though. Not that I would have. But just knowing he was determined to make things better for the next generation tugged at something inside me. My mouth opened, but for once nothing came out. I had no idea what to say. How could I put into words everything I was feeling in that moment?

“I don’t know if Christian and Hugo’ll come out publicly,” Jordan said. “But if they do, I’ll be there to kick anyone’s ass from here to the fucking sun if they say anything bad.”

“Really?” My voice came out broken, and that scared me. I’d never been this vulnerable with another person before, and it was so much more painful than I could have imagined. But at the same time, it wasn’t. Because it was Jordan. And things with Jordan were different in ways I couldn’t identify.

“Of course. They’re my friends, and I love them. I’d do anything for them. Besides, I already got a red card for headbutting some homophobic asshole, and I would happily do it again.” I chuckled and shook my head. That was only something that Jordan would do—act first without contemplating the consequences.

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