Page 72 of Off the Pitch

“No.”

“Yes.” I made a bid to snatch back the duvet from where it rested in a heap on the floor, mostly because I was just wearing my oldest, rattiest pair of boxers. Dammit, they were comfy, though.

Lily smacked my hand away. “You smell awful.”

“Thanks,” I said, throwing my arm over my face in the hope that if I didn’t have to look at her, she’d disappear like some monster in a horror movie.

“Just being honest,” she replied, and I felt the bed shift as she sat down next to me. “Come on, get up. Kit said you haven’t left this room in days.”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“Because I’m your friend.”

“Then as my friend you will leave me to stew in the misery and anguish caused by your damn brother.”

“David,” she started, her voice pained.

“No, don’t youDavidme,” I snapped, uncovering my eyes so I could shoot daggers at her. “Christian broke my fucking heart. All because he thinks it’s ‘what’s best for me’ and because ‘he can’t be that person for me’. Well boo-fucking-hoo. Relationships are hard. Life is hard. And he wasn’t even willing to fucking try, all because he’s a cowardly little shit who won’t even tell his friends that he’s gay. I wasn’t asking for much. I didn’t need him to tell the world or have his own fucking pride parade. I just didn’t want to be some ‘old football friend’ anymore. And he couldn’t even do that! So don’t you dare fucking come here looking for an apology!”

Lily fixed me with a cold stare, arms folded over her chest. “Are you done?”

“Maybe…” I said, slightly taken aback by her attitude. Part of me had expected her to try and plead Christian’s case, or tell me I was wrong—heck, even to have a go at me for letting him down or abandoning him. Not this fixed stare of death and destruction.

The woman was made of stone.

“Fine, what do you want?”

“I want you to get up. We’re going out.”

“What if I don’t want to go?”

Lily simply shrugged. “Well if you don’t get up, then I’ll be forced to wrap you in the duvet like a burrito and drag you down the stairs instead.”

“You can’t lift me.”

“Wanna bet?” The smile on her face resembled something I assumed sharks gave seals they were about to eat. An involuntary shiver ran through my body.

“Fine. Give me twenty minutes,” I said, heaving myself into a sitting position and wondering where both my glasses and my nearest clean clothes were. If I was going to be murdered, I’d at least like to be wearing clean boxers.

“Fifteen, and take a shower first,” she said, patting my leg and making for the door. Before she left, she shot me a soft, sad smile. “I’m sorry for what he did to you.”

You and me both.

Twenty minutes later—take that, Lily—I found myself in an Uber heading across London.

Lily had refused to tell me where we were going, and I’d given up asking, instead staring out the window watching the city pass by in the late afternoon sun.

I’d always loved living in London. Sure, it was busy and noisy and hella-fucking-expensive, but it was also the most beautiful city I’d ever been to—an amazing melting pot of people and experiences. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of exploring it.

There was a sinking feeling in my chest when I realised I’d never been able to show Christian some of my favourite things. Things I’d only discovered in the past few years. Places I’d secretly always wanted to share with him, and now I’d never get a chance to.

That thought cut deeper than most of the realisations I’d had over the past few days about having a Christian-free life, and I hated it.

But I didn’t hate him. Despite all the words and accusations I’d thrown around, I knew deep down that I didn’t blame him. I just felt sad that he couldn’t be himself, that he felt trapped in a version of himself that would never exist. And I wished that I could have helped him past that.

Maybe I’d expected too much of him.

Maybe I hadn’t and this was just how it was meant to be.

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