Page 1 of The Fly-Half

CHAPTER ONE

Devon

Beingin love with your straight best friend was a hell known only to a certain number of people. And it was a group I really wished I wasn’t a part of.

But apparently, I was a fool who didn’t know how to let go. I might as well have one of those ridiculous, colourful jester hats with bells on.

“I got you some eggs,” Jonny said as he slid an enormous omelette filled with peppers, red onion, mushrooms, chilli, and chorizo onto the cafeteria table in front of me as I finished dunking a chunk of croissant into the small mug of hot chocolate I’d treated myself to. Living in France for over eight years had given me a new appreciation for breakfast foods, and professional athlete or not, I was always going to try and squeeze croissants and hot chocolate into my diet.

“Since when is an omelette eggs? Eggs usually means scrambled eggs. Or fried. Maybe poached if you’re pushing it,” I said teasingly as I took the plate from him, watching as Jonny slid into the seat opposite me with his own enormous omelette.The canteen around us was still fairly quiet and the two of us were in a little bubble at our table near the window. It was the one we always chose, so it had become ours by default, and now my feet carried me here every morning.

“Omelette is made with eggs, therefore eggs,” he said with a fond roll of his eyes as he picked up his fork and pointed it at me. “Next time I won’t get you anything if you’re going to complain.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just making a point.”

“It’s too early on a Tuesday for this.”

I grinned and nudged him gently under the table with my foot, ignoring the aching feeling in my chest. It was the same way I always felt whenever I looked at my best friend, and fourteen years of pining hadn’t made it any better. I’d hoped that moving to the south of France and playing for Marseille for eight years would put enough time and distance between us to extinguish my crush, expecting our friendship to naturally fizzle out as our lives got busier and our careers took off. Except Jonny—gorgeous, sweet, naïve man that he was—had insisted on keeping in touch with me, and my unrequited pining had grown from a single tree to a whole fucking forest.

Once upon a time, I’d dreamed that Jonny would suddenly realise he wasn’t straight and declare his undying love for me, which even at seventeen had seemed a little far-fetched. Now it just felt ridiculous to be carrying a torch for someone who was incapable of loving me in the same way I loved him.

But that didn’t stop my heart from guarding that torch with its life, no matter how much cold water I’d tried to pour onto it.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Let me start again. Thanks, Jonny, you’re the best.”

“It’s fine,” he said with a casual shrug like it wasn’t a big deal. Except it was, but I couldn’t say why. “I got them to add extra chilli to it. I know you like it spicy.”

“That’s because your spice tolerance goes as high as black pepper.”

“Hey, Ryan’s been adding more spice to the stuff he makes for me and Mason and I love that!” He swiped a bit of chorizo off my plate as if to make a point.

“That’s probably because it’s got great flavours, not just heat,” I said. It was an educated guess based on what I knew about Jonny’s non-rugby-playing roommate and his style of cooking. Jonny kept saying he’d bring me some leftovers, but none ever appeared because he and Mason polished everything off before it even had a chance to make it to the fridge. But both of them were forwards with hollow legs and bottomless appetites, so it didn’t surprise me.

I glanced around the training ground canteen again, seeing who’d arrived for breakfast and who was still missing. Our rugby union club, the Lincoln Knights, offered breakfast before training every morning as well as snacks and lunch throughout the day and even the occasional dinner on days when we had evening sessions. Cooking for myself always seemed pointless when this was available, so I was here at half seven every morning like clockwork. “Where is Mason this morning anyway?”

Jonny sighed as he tucked into his omelette, his shoulders sagging wearily. “He and Ryan were fucking again, so I left without him. I didn’t want to make it awkward by disturbing them. They seem to think I can’t hear them but our walls are really fucking thin. It’s like West and Rory all over again.” He shook his head and frowned. “No, it’s worse because at least Rory didn’t live with us.”

I winced. Mason and Ryan had been hooking up since the summer and had finally gotten their feelings out in the open a couple of weeks ago. From what Jonny said, it sounded like theywere very enthusiastically enjoying that new relationship flush. “That bad?”

“It’s not bad—they’re just loud. And there are things I know about Mason now that I never wanted to know.”

“Do you think they’ll move out like West did?” I asked as I cut a chunk of my omelette, the smell wrapping itself around my senses and making my mouth water.

“Maybe? I almost don’t want them to, though. I mean, being an accidental third wheel to their sex life is a bit much, but I don’t really want to live by myself. I think I’d get bored. I’ll just have to dig my earplugs out again.”

“You should get a siren or something,” I said. “Like one of those air horns. Then you can sound it when they’re fucking at unsociable hours.”

He chuckled. “Don’t think they’d take too kindly to me walking past their room and blasting it.”

“That’s the point. Or you could just start playing music really loudly every time and see how long it takes to get the point across.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.” He smiled at me before turning back to his breakfast, and I couldn’t stop myself from letting my gaze linger a little longer on the way his broad shoulders filled out his dark blue Knights hoodie and the stubble on his jaw that was threatening to grow into a full beard. He’d cut his dark hair recently, but it was still longer on top and every so often he ran his hand through it, making it stick up slightly.

From the first moment we’d met at thirteen, I’d thought Jonny was cute, but filling out and growing up had suited him. He’d long lost the teenage roundness to his face but despite his imposing height and build, there was still a softness to him that reminded me of a marshmallow. There was a gentle sweetness to Jonny few people seemed to notice, and sometimes I wondered if it was only me who could see it.

That was wishful thinking, though, because I wasn’t that special. Even if I wanted to be.

We ate in comfortable silence for a moment as I watched various members of the team arrive, the sun slowly rising outside the large windows that ran alongside us and filled one wall of the canteen, illuminating the frost-covered training pitches. It made me glad we were starting in the gym today because the idea of throwing myself onto a frozen pitch made me shiver.

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