Page 6 of Off the Pitch

“Christian?” There was the rustle of the duvet, and she slid in beside me. “I bought you a present.” Something cold touched my back, and I yelped.

Lily giggled and pulled at my arm until I rolled over to face her. In the gloom I could see her waving a tub in front of my face, two spoons tucked into her fingers. “I brought ice cream!”

I sat up. “I can’t have that,” I said, feigning grumpiness.

“Sure you can. It’s good for your soul,” she answered, emerging from the duvet. “I bought your favourite too—it’s strawberry. Plus that’s a fruit, so it totally counts as being a healthy option.” She popped the lid and dug a spoon in, lifting it towards my mouth like I was a toddler. “C’mon, here comes the aeroplane.” It was impossible not to laugh as I snatched the spoon from her and slid it into my mouth.

We sat in silence for a while, digging through the tub. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d so quickly abandoned my strict diet. I’d have to do an extra hour or two in the gym tomorrow to make up for it. After we’d finished about half the tub, I realised I didn’t care. Lily was right. Ice cream was good for the soul.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lily asked finally.

“Not really,” I muttered, focusing intently on extracting a lump of strawberry so I didn’t have to look at her.

“You never wanted to look for him?” I made the mistake of looking up at her then. Her blue eyes were wide and concerned, like those of a giant puppy. I was a sucker for them, and I was slightly jealous that I’d never figured out how to use mine in the same way.

“No… it’s just… the timing was never right. I was so busy in Germany, and then when I moved back here everything just went crazy with training and competitions and stuff. And I wouldn’t know what to say.” I sighed, abandoning my spoon in the last of the ice cream to flop back on the pillows. I wasn’t going to tell her that I’d also been too scared to look him up because I was afraid David would have moved on to someone else. After all, we’d broken up at seventeen, and we’d never made any sort of promises to each other. I just wasn’t quite ready to face up to that.

There was a pause. Then Lily asked a question that floored me.

“Have you ever told anyone else that you’re gay?”

“Of course not,” I snapped. “I have my career to think of. Nobody wants a gay England football captain.”

“That’s ridiculous, and you know it.”

“No, it’s not,” I said. “People might say they want players to come out, but nobody has because fans just won’t accept it. And what would the papers say? Or the club? What if they don’t want me to play there anymore?” I could feel myself getting more and more wound up as my thoughts spiraled. I couldn’t lose everything I’d spent my entire life working towards.

My dad had started me playing football as soon as I’d turned four, and since then becoming a footballing legend had been my life’s goal. I’d been too young to know what he was doing, but his relentless pushing had gotten me to places I’d never dreamed. Even though he was long gone from my life, I still held on to his ambitions for me.

I’d disappoint too many people if I gave up now.

“I still have so much to do; I can’t let myself get distracted. I’m so close to achieving my dream.”

“Dad’s dream.”

“Please, Lulu, try to understand. Nobody can know—it’s not worth the risk. Just leave it.” I pulled her close, breathing in the soft scent of her perfume.

And for once, she did.

Chapter Four

WHY CHRISTIAN KING COULD BE JUST WHAT ENGLAND NEEDS – ANALYSIS

BBC Sport

David

I was sitting at the dining table that passed for my desk when Kit found me. I was supposed to be learning the content on Ancient Greece that I had to teach next week, since it was an area I didn’t know much about. Instead, I’d found myself stalking Christian on social media.

He didn’t seem to use Twitter very much, and his Instagram account was pretty generic—photos from training or of the team on the bus or professional photos from matches. There was one of an Italian beach from last summer and one of him and Lily eating ice cream on the sofa. But very few personal photos. It made me sad because it made me think he was lonely.

I gazed at a photo of him from last season, lining up to take a penalty. His face was so serious: blond hair slicked back by sweat, blue eyes flaring with the same focus and determination that he’d always had. I’d seen every variation of that face, and it always caught me off guard because he looked so utterly, but charmingly serious.

I tried to ignore the way he’d clearly filled out since he was seventeen. I didn’t think he’d gotten much taller, but he was lithe and muscular with the most delicious thighs I’d ever seen. My cock twitched in my jeans, and I was well on my way to disappearing down a rabbit hole I knew I shouldn’t when Kit appeared by my shoulder.

“He’s very pretty, isn’t he?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I gasped, lurching backwards and nearly falling off the rickety old chair that passed for furniture in our house. “What the hell are you doing?”

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