Page 198 of Off the Pitch

JordanFine fine fine! Go get on your fancy ass plane

JordanSafe flight x

I stared at the little kiss at the end of his message, and my heart filled with warmth. I was in way over my head, but I knew one thing—I couldn’t stop talking to Jordan even if I wanted to. It was far too late for that.

Chapter Nine

April

#lossandlectures

Jordan

The atmosphere in the dressing room was quiet and strained.

We’d lost the match in a narrow two-one defeat, but it had been a shitty game full of bad tackles, missed opportunities, and heated words. All of us were exhausted, physically and mentally. I just wanted today to be done.

I’d been substituted in the second half, having already been booked in the first. I still didn’t think the tackle had been that bad, certainly not deserving of a yellow card, but the referee had disagreed. Trossero had warned me at half-time to keep my head down and do my fucking job, but I hadn’t listened. The frustration from the game mixed with my stress over the end of the season, our recent Champions League exit in the last-sixteen, and the looming window of the final England team selection had meant I’d let my temper get the better of me for the first time in months. I knew I was lucky not to have been sent off.

I was going to be in so much trouble.

I’d comethisclose to a second yellow card. That would have meant an automatic red and a match ban.

It was only Christian’s quick thinking and calm words that seemed to wiggle me out of trouble. Christian was the best captain I’d played for, and I’d been a complete dickhead to him today.

I knew I needed to apologise to him, but I was still riled up, the tension from today’s match still bubbling away in my stomach. The urge to scream and shout was dangerously close to the surface, fuelled by my disappointment in myself. I should have been better today. I’d been a shitty player and an even shittier friend.

I just couldn’t bring myself to care.

Liam sat beside me, holding his shirt in his hands. A dark bruise was already starting to form on his ribs from where someone had elbowed him when the referee wasn’t looking. If I’d known who it was, I’d have punched the wanker. It was probably for the best Liam hadn’t told me.

On my other side, Christian was easing his boots off, tired disappointment written all over his face. I knew he’d take our loss personally. He always did. I got angry when we lost; Christian became introspective. Although he didn’t seem to get quite as lost in his head as he once did. I think David helped with that.

Around the room, people were in various stages of undress and slowly some low-level chatter began to return. But all I could do was stare at a patch on the wall opposite my seat, ignoring everything around me while anger seethed through me. I needed to get out and get some fresh air. I just needed to be anywhere but here.

“You alright?” Liam asked, his expression blank.

“Fine,” I said without looking at him.

“You don’t look it. You look like you wanna punch someone.” I sighed. I loved Liam, but sometimes he was the king of stating the fucking obvious. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

“I know.” The words came out colder than I’d intended.

“Then stop being a self-centred wanker and wallowing in self-pity,” Liam said. “Yeah you were a dickhead, but there’s no need to take it out on us.”

I knew he was right. He often was. And we had our post-match routine down pat now. If we won, we’d laugh and cheer and give each other crushing hugs. If we lost, we’d commiserate, take the piss out of each other, call each other out if we’d been assholes, then we’d give each other a hug and split a bar of chocolate. It lessened the sting of losing a little bit. But today it was just grating on me. Everything was coming to a head, and instead of dealing with it like an actual adult, I’d let things get the better of me. The problem was now that I’d let it, I couldn’t work out how to make it stop.

“I need some air,” I muttered, pushing off the bench and heading for the exit. I heard Liam say something, but I ignored him. Liam didn’t deserve to be the target of my frustration.

For a moment, I wished Félix was in town. I got the feeling a night with him would relieve a lot of my stress. He’d been out of town for about four, nearly five weeks now, and I’d been surprised to find I missed his company. I’d thought he’d just forget me and find someone else to amuse himself with, but we’d continued to chat on and off or sext when one of us was bored and horny. I couldn’t deny the way my heart raced whenever I noticed his name lighting up my phone screen, but whether it was lust or something else, I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Félix made me feel special, and I couldn’t put my finger on why. I didn’t want to feel that way, I just did. And I didn’t know what to do about it. I’d debated deleting his number or ghosting him, but every time I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something always stopped me.

I shook my head. Now was not the time to be thinking about Félix. I was just frustrated because I couldn’t have what I wanted—a good, hard fuck that left me shaking and boneless.

“Jordan.” Trossero’s voice sliced through my thoughts like a hot knife. “Where are you going?” It was an innocent question, but to my brain it sounded like a challenge.

“Outside. I need some air,” I said, not bothering to turn around to look at him. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. I knew I’d behaved badly today, and I knew I’d have to face the consequences. I just didn’t want to do it now. Trossero had shown so much faith in me in the past, turning me into the footballer I was today, and I still hadn’t grown up enough to stop acting like a twat.

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