Page 93 of Off the Pitch

DavidYou know the BBC debunked that? It’s not true

KitWhy must you always ruin my fun?

Hugo

I hadn’t been sure about dragging myself out of my flat and across London to Christian and David’s house for their moving-in-slash-bank-holiday barbecue, but sitting in their garden in the sunshine made me glad I had.

Not that I’d had much say in the matter when Christian had turned up outside my flat in his car to give me a lift. He’d said it was because it would be expensive and difficult to get a taxi out to his house, even though we both knew that was a lie. I was pretty sure he’d done it to make sure I left my sofa and didn’t try to duck out at the last minute.

Christian had chatted easily on the drive over, mostly about his plans to sweep David off on a secret holiday to the Maldives in a couple of weeks. It still surprised me to see how happy and relaxed he was these days, and it made me realise how much of himself he’d been hiding from all of us in the past. Christian had come out to the whole team a week after my accident and our Champions League exit, although he’d confided in me and his best friends, Liam and Jordan, several days before.

It was almost as if coming out had lifted a weight off his shoulders that none of us had realised he’d been carrying. I knew it couldn’t have been easy for him because I knew how shitty some footballers could be.

I’d always been accepting and open about my pansexuality because it had never seemed like a big deal to me. Maybe it was because my family hadn’t really blinked when I’d told them, or maybe they just didn’t believe me, given that they’d met several of my previous girlfriends. Maybe they’d thought it was just a phase I’d grow out of, which was a theory I hated. But their reactions when I’d told them Hélène and I were getting married suggested it was true.

So many people didn’t believe that I could be pansexual because I was in a ‘happy’ heterosexual marriage, but just because I was married to a woman didn’t mean my sexuality suddenly disappeared. I’d always believed in people’s hearts above anything else—it was a person’s soul that attracted me, not what was in their underwear.

As I watched Christian and David argue playfully over salads and how much garlic bread was too much garlic bread, something inside my chest ached. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that at ease and happy around a partner. Hélène and I must have been like that once, but it was so long ago that any happy memories had been soured by our fallout.

Sometimes, I wondered if I’d ever meet someone else; someone I could share my whole life with. But that would involve me looking for someone instead of clinging to a failed relationship or hiding in my house. The perfect person wasn’t going to suddenly fall into my lap or knock on my door like in one of those cliché Hollywood romcoms.

I watched as the guests started to arrive from my seat in the shade at one end of the large table that Christian had laid out on the patio. It was mostly guys from the club with their girlfriends or wives and their kids, plus a couple of people I didn’t know but assumed were David’s friends. I could also see Christian’s mum in the distance, insisting on helping even when Christian attempted to shoo her away.

Sipping a glass of Pepsi that David had brought me, I noticed Christian’s sister Lily dragging another guest out into the garden. He wasn’t somebody I knew, but he was so captivating I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

He was pale and willowy with bright red hair that fell to his shoulders in soft waves but also looked a little wild and unkempt. His brightly patterned shirt should have clashed horribly with his hair, but instead it suited him perfectly and made him look gorgeously eccentric and charming in a way I’d discovered only the English could pull off.

I watched as Lily steered him towards the table where everyone had started to congregate, directing him to an empty chair not far from me. The two of them were chattering away, so I assumed they knew each other well. I tried desperately not to listen into their conversation, pretending to check my phone instead, since there was nobody seated near me to pretend to talk to.

“I brought some of that raspberry lemonade I know Christian likes. I’ll have some of that,” the man said, obviously answering a question as he pulled a bottle of bright pink liquid out of the Waitrose bag at his feet.

“Did I hear raspberry lemonade?” Christian appeared from behind us, muttering something to Lily who hurried off, before flopping into a spare seat.

“Yes,” the redhead said brightly. “I thought we could share it since I know you don’t really drink, and I’m not a fan either.”

Christian nodded, reaching for two empty glasses in the middle of the table. “You know we should freeze this. It would make amazing slushies!”

“Just don’t freeze the glass bottle. That doesn’t usually end well.” He giggled, and Christian laughed before giving him a look that said he knew the other man had obviously done it before.

The man’s voice was soft, but his accent was sharp-enough to cut glass, and his laughter washed over me like sunshine. I was intrigued and casually scooted my chair a tiny bit closer because something was drawing me to him.

“That sounds familiar,” I said as I remembered my own disastrous attempt to freeze a glass bottle.

The man looked over at me, an inquisitive look on his face. There were freckles dusting his nose, and his eyes were an intense green, the colour of holly leaves. I couldn’t stop myself from staring because he was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.

“What did you do?” he asked, his words forcing me to focus.

“I put a bottle of champagne in the freezer for a party.” I chuckled, shaking my head at the memory. “I was trying to cool it quickly, but I totally forgot about it. It wasn’t until halfway through the evening when I heard this huge bang from my kitchen that I remembered. It sounded like a bomb going off.”

“At least it exploded in the fridge,” the man said. “Mine exploded all over the kitchen floor. I thought David might actually kill me.”

“It didn’t explode,” said David as he leant over Christian’s shoulder, drawing him in for a quick kiss. “You dropped it.”

The man waved his hand airily, as if casually dismissing David’s comment. “A minor detail. It still exploded when it hit the floor. I think the tiles are still cracked.”

I laughed, his airy but earnest manner charming me.

“You didn’t have to clean it up,” David said, and the other man laughed.

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