Page 38 of The Fly-Half

“Oh good, you’re alive then,” West said as he dropped into the seat next to Devon, our table of two suddenly doubling in size. “See, Mason, I told you he’d be fine.”

“Yeah, but it would’ve been nice of him to let us know,” Mason said pointedly. “Just so we didn’t worry.”

“Just soyoudidn’t worry,” West said. “Anyway, I don’t know why you were worried. You knew where he was.” He grinned at Devon and me. “I’m guessing you two figured things out then?”

“Figured what out?” Devon asked over the rim of his cup, shooting me a playful wink.

“Don’t give me that shit,” West said with a laugh, pointing at Devon with his fork. “Not when you’ve got at least two hickeys on your neck.”

Devon flushed and pulled his hoodie up slightly. “All right, no need to shout about it.”

“Where?” Mason asked, leaning across the table and twisting his head. “Oh shit, yeah. You know if you need some concealer, you should talk to Ryan or Rory. They’ll hook you up.”

“It’ll be fine,” Devon said. “It’s, er… yeah, it’s fine. Thanks, though.” He glanced at me, a little smirk playing across his lips, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no way concealer was going to cover up some of the marks on his thighs.

Not that we planned on Mason and West seeing some of them.

“That means there’s definitely more of them,” Mason said with a snort as he dug into a bowl of fruit salad smothered in yoghurt and granola. “You definitely had fun then.” He shot me a pointed look. “Maybe you’ll be in a better mood today.”

“Maybe.” I grinned and nudged him with my elbow. “Maybe you should stop being so nosy. Maybe it’s pissing me off.”

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely in a better mood,” West said. “Look at you smiling again.” He cut a piece of omelette and stabbed it. “Thank you, Devon. From all of us.”

“Your sacrifice is noted,” Mason said with a wink.

“Oh, trust me, the pleasure was all mine,” Devon said, hooking his foot around mine under the table.

“I don’t doubt it,” West said. “And now we don’t have to put up with Mr Jealous Grumpy Pants over there.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” West said, shooting me an unimpressed look. “We’ve had this conversation, and you admitted at least part of that.”

“Fine, yes, I was jealous, but now I’ve got what I wanted,” I said. “So yeah, I guess you’re right. No more Jealous Grumpy Pants.”

I assumed that now Devon was mine, my feelings of jealousy would fade away. After all, we were together now and I trusted Devon, so it wasn’t like anything was going to happen with Peaches or anyone else. It would just be the two of us, and I’d get to spend all my spare time exploring everything I wanted to do with him.

Ortohim.

“Good,” Mason said with a nod. “And Devon, if he gets too grumpy or annoying, send him back to us and we’ll put him in line.”

“I’ll remember that.” Devon chuckled as he went back to eating the stack of protein pancakes he’d picked up this morning. I noticed it was the second time he’d gone for pancakes in two days, and I made a mental note to find a good recipe for them. They were the thicker American-style ones, but I also knew that he liked thinner crepe-style ones too, so I’d have to practice making those as well. My last few Pancake Day attempts had ended with most of them ragged, torn, and either a bit crispy around the edge or too squidgy in the middle.

They’d still tasted good, though, but Devon deserved better than shitty pancakes.

We finished our breakfast and sat chatting for a bit before we trooped upstairs for our Monday morning briefing, which would go over the match on Saturday, goals for the week, training plans and specific things we’d be working on, as well as looking forward to our next match, which would be away on Saturday down in Coventry.

Devon and I sat next to each other at the end of the table, the same as we always did. We’d decided we’d be open about the change of our relationship if anyone asked, but we weren’tgoing to rub it in people’s faces. At the end of the day, this was our job and our place of work, and we didn’t want to be those people. We were pretty sure our relationship wasn’t against any rules, but then again I wasn’t sure therewasanything in the player regulations about teammates shagging each other. Mostly because I wasn’t sure the people who’d written them had ever thought it would be an issue.

I’d been a little worried that Clive would bring up my bad behaviour from Saturday in front of everyone, but even though I wouldn’t have liked it, I would’ve deserved it. But all he did was talk about not letting our emotions get the better of us and remembering to keep things clean. I could feel my face heating as he spoke, especially when his pointed gaze kept lingering on me, and fuck, I’d almost have preferred getting yelled at.

He'd probably do that later.

Or at least call me into his office to explain myself while he stared at me. As a player, Clive had had a reputation for starting shit, which meant as a coach, he was good at knowing why things got under our skins as players. One thing he’d always focused on was not letting dickheads get to us, but the only problem was the one who’d started shit in this situation was me to myself.

Afterwards, we all headed for the changing room to start stripping off layers for our morning gym session, swapping the hoodies and joggers we’d arrived in for our kit.

“Jesus Christ, Jonny, did you maul him?” Mason asked as Devon pulled his joggers off to reveal his perfect-as-fuck thighs. The ones that had more than a few marks sucked into them, which were apparently really bleeding obvious under the bright lights of the changing room.

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