Page 233 of Off the Pitch

“Where did you get that from?” I said as Félix’s finger gently caressed my cheek, wiping away some of my tears.

“How do you know I didn’t make it up?”

“Oh, please,” I snorted, pressing a kiss to his chest. “We both know you’re not that introspective.”

“Charming.” Félix went quiet for a moment. “My brother said it to me before I went back to LA. We were just talking, and he guessed that I was seeing someone. Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him it was you. But he said I should try to make peace with the things that happened. And I think I’m trying to.”

“Why?”

“Because I have better things to do with my life now.” There was meaning behind those words I couldn’t quite grasp, and every time I tried to it slipped through my fingers. “You should get some sleep,” Félix said, kissing my head again.

“You too,” I mumbled into his chest. I felt better after crying to him, and now I was just tired again. It had been a long couple of days.

I took another deep breath, letting sleep take hold of me, and my last thought was of Félix and how he’d come all this way… just for me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

#englandvsbelgium #worldcup2020 #caketime

Jordan

“Oh my God, man! Pass the ball! Lewis is right there. Jesus Christ, mate! Do you need to go to Specsavers?”

“Jordan,” Nan said in a warning tone, looking at me over the rim of her glasses.

“Sorry, Nan,” I said, giving her a sheepish smile. I knew I was pushing my luck, and it was taking everything I had to keep my language under control. Instead, I grabbed my phone and pulled up the text chat I had with Liam, letting him knowexactlywhat I thought of his passing and getting some of my frustrations out in the process. He’d see it at half-time. Whether or not he’d listen to me was another matter.

I was currently sitting in an armchair at my grandma’s house, leg up on a footstool, while the pair of us watched the last-sixteen match between England and Belgium. As I’d predicted, England had sailed through the group stages. It had been tough watching their opening match against Argentina, but Félix had come to the rescue with alcohol and some takeaway from Raphael’s. Apparently, he’d had to pretty much beg Raphael to box up some meals, but I wasn’t sure whether that was the truth or if Félix was overexaggerating again.

After two beers, I’d felt more relaxed, and it had almost been fun to watch the match and shout furiously at everyone. Liam had called me afterwards, and I’d taken great delight in winding him up and then teasing him by saying I was hurt, so he had to be nice to me.

Unsurprisingly he’d just laughed and told me to fuck off.

But he had then sent me a message after the next match, where he’d played better, and asked if I was happy now.

I was almost enjoying this managing from in front of the TV thing, but it didn’t make me want to actually consider a career in management. I’d probably end up being that one guy who fought with the press all the time and got all the headlines on the sports pages.

Although that might be fun.

The whistle blew, indicating half-time, and I watched the England team head back to the tunnel, escaping the Italian heat. It was still nil-nil, and I doubted the second half was going to be any easier. Neither team wanted to lose, and both seemed reluctant to really push forward in case they let the other team through. It was frustrating to watch, but I understood.

“So, what’s going on between you and that handsome friend of yours? The one who looks like a film star,” Nan asked, as the TV coverage moved onto an ad break.

If I’d had a drink, I probably would have spat it all over the floor. Instead, I just stared at her. “Nan!”

“What?” she asked, giving me a wry smile. “I know there’s something going on. You can’t lie to me.”

I wasn’t sure what shocked me more: the way she’d just come out and said it, or how calm she was about it. Nan had always been eagle-eyed and been able to read people at half a mile, but it still always surprised me when she turned her attention on me. I squirmed in my seat, wishing I could run away. Not that that would save me because she’d just follow me.

“Yeah… there is.” I took a deep breath, squeezing my hands together and wishing I’d actually thought about how to phrase this. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t had enough time, given that Félix and I had been practically living together for the past three and a half weeks. I’d just tried to avoid thinking about it as much as possible. “I’m, um, so… I guess…I’m bisexual. I like men and women.”

“I know what bisexuality is, Jordan. I may be getting older, but I’m not dead.”

“Right.” My brain seemed to have flatlined, and I was suddenly wondering how the fuck to string a sentence together. I took another breath because apparently my body had forgotten how to do that on its own.

“So, you and your handsome friend are dating?”

“Félix,” I said automatically, watching her wry smile grow.

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