Page 43 of Off the Pitch

Christian looked up at me and raised his eyebrows with a smirk, trailing a finger between us to collect some of my cooling release on his fingers. He raised it to his lips, licking it carefully from his skin.

“Hmm, you taste better than you used to,” he said, a considering look on his face. “It’s not sweet, but I’m sure it’ll grow on me.” He drew me in for a deep kiss. “Although maybe next time I should try it straight from the source?”

Holy fuck, Christian was going to be the death of me.

Chapter Eighteen

CAN THEY HOLD OUT?

Can Greenwich remain unbeaten at home as they host West Ham in last game of the year?

BBC Sport

Christian

When I woke the next morning, I was completely naked but wrapped in warmth, a solid body pressed against my back, and it took me a few moments to piece the situation together.

I lay on my side, with David curled around me, his arm around my waist and our fingers interlinked against my chest. It was very warm and snug, our own cocoon of sleepiness. Despite the fact I hadn’t shared a bed in years, especially not one this spacious, it had been incredibly easy to sleep next to him. It made me smile that despite all this space, we’d still ended up wrapped up together.

It was almost like a metaphor for our relationship: despite the distance, we’d managed to find each other again. It was so much better than I could have ever dreamed.

There was very little light coming through the curtains, just the dreary grey of a late-December morning. I couldn’t tell what time it was without moving, but I couldn’t bear to wiggle out of David’s arms to check my clock. I wanted to treasure this moment for a minute longer, breathing in his soft scent and feeling the warmth of him against me, before the chaos of a match day interrupted our quiet bliss.

My brain did a quiet double take as I realised this was the first time I’d woken up on a match day and not automatically thought about the game ahead of me. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not, but I did feel calmer than I had before. Perhaps having David here would be good for me. Relaxation and mindfulness were supposed to be excellent for helping athletes prepare for big events, but I’d never quite believed in it. My approach had always been focusing on statistics.

Behind me, David nuzzled into the back of my neck, distracting me from my train of thought as a little sigh slid from my lips. His arms tightened around me, squeezing me against him as if he’d never let me go.

“Good morning,” he whispered, pressing a kiss onto my shoulder.

“Morning,” I said, my voice rough from hours of disuse. I rolled over in his arms, smiling at his sleep-fluffed hair, soft eyes, and pink lips. He was so gorgeous I couldn’t help but pull him in for a soft kiss.

“What time is it?” David murmured between kisses.

“I don’t know,” I answered. I knew I should be thinking about the match, preparing myself for the test ahead of me, but then David kissed me again, running his hand down to squeeze my ass, and for a moment all thoughts of football fled from my head, leaving nothing but serenity behind. A small part of me wondered whether we had time for a repeat performance of last night, and the memory of his mouth sent little shivers down my spine.

The blaring of my alarm shattered that thought with a hammer.

I pulled away from him, reaching for the little clock on my bedside table. Lily said it was old-fashioned not to use my phone, but I’d always maintained that the clock was more practical. Plus, I always turned my phone off half an hour before I went to sleep and didn’t turn it back on until I woke up. The blue light wasn’t conducive to proper rest, and I needed to make sure I slept well.

Hopping out of bed, my brain was already switching into statistics mode, recalling everything we’d been told in the pre-match briefing we’d been given yesterday. Behind me, I could hear David flopping back onto the mattress. I hoped he wasn’t disappointed.

“I need to shower,” I said, heading for the door to my en-suite. “Sorry. I have to get there early because it’s a twelve-thirty kick off.”

“It’s fine.” David waved his hand at me, shooing me towards the door. “I’m assuming I’m not allowed to join you.”

“Sorry, I need to focus.”

“Don’t worry. I’m just gonna stay here and enjoy your bed,” he called. “I’m never leaving it, by the way.”

I chuckled to myself, shutting the door and taking a deep breath. I had to forget David. I needed to focus. I needed to concentrate. I needed to be better than yesterday. I needed run faster, make better tackles, score more goals. This was my path to glory, and I had never strayed from it. One wrong move would ruin everything. There was too much at stake to deviate now.

And yet… Mum’s words echoed in my head:plans can change.

Could I really be just as great with David in my life? Everything had been going so well recently; I was tempted to believe that I could. After all, I’d never felt this relaxed before a game. Being with David made me feel things I’d never felt before, cliché as that sounded.

I’d always assumed that I was happy with my life. I had a great career, a loving family, and a few good friends. But the more time I spent with David, the more I was realising just how lonely I’d been. I’d existed in a bubble that focused on football and nothing else. When Lily had been in America, I’d hardly spoken to anyone about anything other than football. I trained, I played, I slept, and I trained again.

My focus hadn’t changed now, but every day felt fuller. David was always there to support me, to listen to my fears and my worries, and he always knew how to distract me when I was getting lost in my own pursuit of perfection. Every single time I thought of him, my body lit up with warmth, and just a text from him made fireworks explode in my chest. He made me want to be better, not just for myself, but for him too. And I was starting to wonder if this was really what happiness was supposed to be.

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