Page 15 of Off the Pitch

“Oh…” I risked a glance up at him, preparing myself for the worst. But instead of a look of hatred on his face, there was one of confusion instead. His brow was wrinkled as if he was figuring out a puzzle. “Why?”

It was a simple question, but it was one I didn’t know the answer to.

“I don’t know,” I confessed, shaking my head and running my hand through my hair. “You were my best friend before you were my boyfriend, and I was so proud of you for getting signed. And yeah, you kinda disappeared on me after you left, but that didn’t mean I was going to stop being proud of you.”

Christian looked at me sheepishly from under his long lashes, “I’m sorry about that… the evaporating from your life, I mean. I just got so wrapped up in everything. It was the next step to getting everything I’d been training for my whole life, and I just… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said, stabbing my fork into a potato. “I’d probably have been the same, so for what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

The smile that crossed Christian’s face went from tiny to megawatt in about fifteen seconds. Whatever had happened in the past belonged there, and I wouldn’t let it affect our future relationship, whatever that might be.

We were still chatting after dinner, so we took our pudding into the living room, while Christian sang Monika’s praises and practically danced on the spot about being allowed pudding during the week. He’d always had a phenomenal sweet tooth, and I guessed that being a professional player was seriously at odds with his desire for sugar.

“Do you want to watch a film?” Christian asked as he flopped onto the sofa, carefully holding his bowl of lemon tart while searching for the remote.

“Sure,” I said, settling next to him and taking in the details of the room. It was light and airy, with large French doors at one end that I assumed opened up onto the garden, although it was too dark to see. The room was lit with the soft glow of lamps, which gave it a warm feel despite its size. The two sofas were scattered with a large selection of colourful cushions and throws, and in one corner a large television stood on a wooden stand. There was a unit beside it filled with Blu-rays and games as well as random knick-knacks and photos, and I was sure I could see a scattering of trophies in amongst them. I was dying to be nosey, but I also knew that wasn’t polite.

“What do you fancy? I’ve got Netflix and Amazon Prime,” Christian said. He gestured at the unit. “Or there’s lots of Blu-rays up there. Take your pick.”

“I’ll have a look,” I answered, seizing my chance to satisfy my curiosity. I placed my bowl on the solid coffee table and meandered, over but before I could look at any of the photos, something on the floor behind the coffee table caught my eye.

It was a giant LEGO set, half assembled and spread across the carpet, the carefully numbered bags laid out neatly next to the large instruction manual.

“Holy fuck, is that the Millennium Falcon?” It was still more of a frame than anything else, but the shape was still recognisable.

“Yeah,” Christian said, his cheeks tinting again which made something funny pulse in my chest. “I, um, I like building them for fun. They’re good to take my mind off things, help me focus on being in the moment instead of dwelling on stuff. And I like Star Wars.”

“Do you have others?”

Christian nodded, chewing his lip and smiling. “I built the Death Star in the spring. That was fun, but it took hours. It’s upstairs so I don’t knock it over.”

My inner geek was dancing. I’d always loved Star Wars, and Christian and I had spent hours watching them as kids. My mum had even taken the two of us to seeRevenge of the Sithfor my birthday. As an adult I’d always longed for a couple of these sets, but they were so fucking expensive I’d never imagined getting one. I mean, this Millennium Falcon kit was worth nearly seven hundred quid.

“Can—can we build it now?” I asked, trying not to hold my breath.

“Really? I mean, you’d be interested in that?” There was a note of astonishment in Christian’s voice, while mine was barely controlled excitement.

“Of course! I’ve always wanted to get my hands on this.”

“Okay,” Christian said with a nod. “Let’s do it. Do you want to put a film on in the background? MaybeThe Force Awakens? I haven’t seen it in a while.”

“Sounds perfect!”

Ten minutes later we were sitting on the floor, the opening credits of the film playing in the background while Christian talked me through what he’d done so far. It was obvious that he took his building seriously, and I had to admit it was adorable. After my pep talk, he handed me a bag and showed me the instructions he wanted me to follow.

“You know, I’m sure there’s a terrible joke aboutinserting thingssomewhere in there,” I said, watching the way Christian’s face flushed as my words filtered through.

“Probably,” he added. “But I’ve never thought of it.”

“Me neither, I’m not good with words.”

“I find that hard to believe—you’re doing your PhD.”

“Nah, that’s all smoke and mirrors,” I joked.

“So, tell me more about your work,” Christian said, picking up his own pieces. “I don’t know much about academic stuff beyond what Lily’s told me.”

I smiled, opened my bag, and began talking. And I didn’t stop. Well, not until the early hours of the morning. By that time, we’d covered my degree, Lily, our mums, the Champions League, and the new Star Wars and Marvel films. The only thing we’d avoided discussing was our relationships, but I figured that was because neither of us had much to tell. Plus, talking about new partners with exes is one of those weird grey areas I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to avoid.

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