Page 202 of Off the Pitch

“How does next Saturday evening sound? Are you playing?”

“That works for me. We’re playing the early game at home, so dinner sounds great.”

“Good. I’ll make a reservation.” There was a pause, and I heard someone call Félix’s name again. “I’m sorry, but I have to go,” Félix said. He sounded almost apologetic.

“It’s fine. Go enjoy your party. Thanks for talking to me. It helped.”

“You’re welcome. I hope it goes well tomorrow. I’d like to hear how it turns out.”

“You only want to know so you can laugh at me again.”

“Maybe, but you won’t know until you tell me.”

“You’re such a wanker,” I said with a chuckle. “Go get wasted with your rich friends. I’ll see you next week.”

“Goodnight, Jordan,” Félix said, and then he was gone. I put my phone on the counter and stared at the screen as I ate the rest of my dinner. A feeling of calm had settled over me. Talking everything out had helped, but I had a sneaking suspicion Félix was the main reason for that. My feelings towards him were still nebulous, a floating cloud of emotions I wasn’t ready to examine, but I had a feeling there was something more than friendship at the heart of them.

Chapter Eleven

#redemption

Jordan

“You ready?” Liam asked, bouncing from foot to foot in the tunnel just ahead of me, head twisted to smirk at me. “Gonna behave today or do you need to go sit on the naughty step?”

“Piss off,” I said, shaking my head and trying not to laugh. Liam had spent the whole week teasing me about last Saturday’s outburst. I’d told him about the whole thing last Sunday, while we’d sat on his sofa playingFIFA. He’d reacted as I’d predicted—called me a dickhead, ranted about the other players and the referee, given me a half hug, and then proceeded to lose all three matches because, despite the fact he was a good player in real life, Liam sucked atFIFA. But he had admitted he was nervous about the England selection too. It had been nice to talk it all out and realise that I wasn’t the only one who was worried. Being longlisted was no guarantee of making the final squad. There were only twenty-three spots after all, and even I wasn’t arrogant enough to think I automatically deserved one.

The only thing I hadn’t told Liam about was Félix. I still didn’t know how to tell Liam about him, but it was something I was going to have to figure out. I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep Félix a secret for much longer if he was going to be back in town. I already knew I wanted to see him more than once.

I was weirdly excited for dinner this evening. Whenever I thought about it, my stomach fluttered wildly, and I’d already spent an hour this morning thinking about what I was going to wear. Which was stupid. I mean, it wasn’treallya date. Was it?

“Language,” Liam said, giving me a wry smile. “Or I’ll tell the captain, and then you’ll be in trouble.” I snorted. Christian’s blond hair, good looks, and reputation forneverswearing had led to him being dubbed our very own Captain America. Except Christian didn’t have a problem with me swearing, as long as I did a good job.

I’d been trying to make amends for last Saturday all week. Christian had said it wasn’t a problem, but it still bothered me that I’d been an asshole to him. We’d won on Wednesday, playing away in Norwich, and I’d been on my best behaviour. I hadn’t even made the tiniest complaint when someone had fouled me, but I still didn’t feel like I’d done enough.

I could hear the crowd cheering from the end of the tunnel, everyone already in high spirits. Today was going to be another tough one, but that would make victory all the sweeter.

We were starting to approach the end of the season and the fight for the top spots was growing more and more intense with every match. Greenwich were currently holding third, but there were only two points between us and second, and we only had a one-point lead over the team in fourth. We couldn’t afford to drop points, not at this stage. I wanted to go one better than our position now and get that second-place finish. Not only did we deserve it, but it would prove to all our doubters that we were a great team. We were young, but we knew what we were doing.

World Cup selection was a constant niggle in my mind as well. I knew they’d make the final squad selections soon, and I desperately wanted a spot. All I could do was keep playing my best and keep my fingers crossed for a phone call.

“Just a heads up,” Christian said, making his way down the line. “Trossero just told me Nigel Grant’s here with his assistant.”

“Shit,” Liam said with a chuckle. “Better do our best then.”

I clapped him on the shoulder and tried to settle the butterflies in my stomach. “Well, the rest of us can. You, not so much.”

Liam laughed. “You’re such a twat.”

“You still love me though.”

“I don’t know why,” Liam said. “Seriously though, we can do this, right?” There was a nervous edge to his voice, and I reached out to squeeze his hand. If Liam sounded worried, then it meant he was shitting bricks. I’d only seen him this nervous twice before—the day he, Christian, and I went to look for engagement rings for Ali, and on his wedding day.

“Of course,” I said, giving him an encouraging smile. “It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna make the team, Christian’s gonna make captain, and it’s going to be amazing. I promise.”

“Yeah.” Liam nodded. He looked faintly green. “We can do it.”

“Don’t flake out on me now, Gold. I’m not going to Italy without you.”

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