Page 175 of Off the Pitch

“Weddings make people go crazy,” Micah said, and I nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, Liam was definitely the groomzilla here.”

“Come on, you were a pain in the ass too. You made me get a new suit!”

“That’s because your old one was a piece of shit,” I said, taking another sip of my beer.

“And you spent two months shortlisting cake makers.”

“And?”

“Mate, you’d have thought you and Liam were getting married,” Micah said with a raised eyebrow.

“Shut up,” I grumbled, trying to hide my embarrassment. I knew I’d been a bit over the top, but I’d wanted Liam and Ali to have the perfect wedding. They deserved it more than anyone else I knew. They’d been together since high school, and they’d made it through all the shit life had thrown at them and were still standing. They were walking proof of true love, and I’d wanted them to have a day to remember.

The music changed to something more upbeat, Bruno Mars’s voice bouncing around the room, and the dance floor burst into life. In the middle, I saw Liam laughing at something, his face lit up in an enormous smile that made me smile in return.

“You sure you’re okay?” Micah asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied, draining the last of my beer so I’d have an excuse to leave. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to Micah. I just didn’t fancy having to sit there while he tried to unsubtly find out what was bugging me. Micah was another member of the small, single crowd, and usually I’d be relieved to have someone sitting next to me who felt the same, but right now, I just wanted space. “I’m going to get another drink. You want anything?”

“Nah, man. I’m good.”

I grabbed my empty glass, leaving Micah at the table, and wove my way through the crowd and out into the main hotel bar. Even though the ballroom had its own bar and hospitality services, I needed some breathing room.

I wandered the empty halls, feeling out of place in the luxurious atmosphere. Liam and Ali had chosen an exclusive five-star hotel in central London for their reception, and although it was stunning, it made me a little uncomfortable.

I hadn’t grown up in the nicest part of the world, and despite the fact I now had more money than sense, I still felt out of place amongst the rich and famous. I got now why so many young guys who signed big contracts blew all their money on fast cars, nights out, and other random shit. I’d have been one of them if I hadn’t known my grandma would fucking crucify me for it.

She’d helped raise me while my dad worked two jobs and studied, and the two of us had lived with her for a while before my dad met my step-mum, Sarah, when I was twelve.

Nan never let me get away with being a little shit, and she still made me go and do chores for her on my free weekends. If I ever got a yellow card, she made me do things like clean out the attic or wash all her decorative teacups. The one time I’d gotten a red card, just after Christmas last year, was the only time I’d really thought she might kill me.

Instead she’d made me go to church with her for a month and serve all the refreshments afterwards, while her friends all tried to set me up with their granddaughters.

To be fair, she’d softened slightly when I’d told her I’d only headbutted the guy because he’d said something awful about Christian. I hadn’t told her exactly what the dickhead had said, but she’d understood why I was upset, and she’d made me some tea and given me a piece of sticky ginger cake. I’d still had to go to church though.

That’s why I’d never blown my money on stupid shit. If my grandma had found out, no amount of stupid shit would have made my life worth living.

The only things I’d really spent money on were clothes, a couple of houses, video games, and a couple of secret memberships to some of London’s most exclusive nightclubs; the sort of places where privacy was paramount.

For the past year, I’d been using the clubs to do some serious exploring after Liam and Hugo had casually uprooted my worldview by pointing out that bisexuality was a thing. I hadn’t thought much of it at first, but slowly I’d realised that the ‘no-homo’ bro feelings I’d had towards a couple of guys I admired were anything but. It was one thing to admire Michael B. Jordan. It was another to watchCreedover and over because of the way he looked shirtless and sweaty.

I’d not really had any sort of panic. I’d just gone to one of the private nightclubs to hit on a couple of guys to see how I felt…and to find out whether I liked fucking guys as much as I liked fucking girls.

The answer had been yes. So much yes.

Not that I’d told anyone yet. Knowing I was bisexual and being happy with that was a whole different thing than telling someone who I wasn’t planning on blowing in the next five minutes.

Fuck, I wanted to get laid right now. It would help take the edge off the itch under my skin and allow me to get lost in something other than my exhaustion and the annoying feeling in my chest that I couldn’t shake. The one that flared up when I saw all the couples together. There’d still be time after the wedding packed up to hit a club, and it wouldn’t be hard to find someone to help me unwind. I needed the high of release that came with a good, hard fuck. Especially if I was the one getting fucked.

After a couple of wrong turns, I finally found my way back to the hotel bar. It was softly lit with lots of squishy, dark armchairs and low tables, and light jazz music playing in the background. Despite the time, there were still a few people sitting around with drinks.

“What can I get you?” asked the woman behind the bar as I placed the empty beer glass on the polished wooden bar top.

“Vodka please. Belvedere. Straight,” I said, peering carefully at the bottles lined up behind her. I wanted something to drink slowly that would help me relax, not something to drink quickly to get wasted. I still wanted to go out, and I knew the club I was thinking of wouldn’t let me in if they thought I was too drunk. Mostly because they wanted me to buy their booze instead.

“Good choice,” said a deep, smooth voice beside me. I flicked my head to take in the man who’d suddenly appeared at my side.

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