Page 7 of The Fly-Half

“It’s not like that,” he said. “Anyway, last time we went to The Court you practically caused a riot.”

I smirked, remembering the looks I’d gotten. Those shorts had paid for themselves a million times over. Jonny had told me to go home with someone but we’d been there together and I hadn’t wanted to abandon him because that felt rude, especially since he’d willingly dragged himself to a gay bar for me so I could dance and be myself.

And thinking about the way he’d looked in his tight T-shirt and jeans with his lips wrapped around the straw of the cocktail I’d bought him had been enough to fuel my fantasies for days. I’d had to blame my soreness on the brutal match we’d played the day before because there was no way in hell I was explaining toanyonethat I’d spent so much time riding a giant dildo my ass hurt.

I was taking that secret to my fucking grave and I’d taken the mandatory sports massage without a hint of complaining, trying to hide my blush when Donna had mentioned how tight my glutes and hamstrings were.

“Obviously, have you seen me?” I asked with a wink.

Jonny grinned. “Yeah, yeah. You’re a ten. Now stop distracting me and get back to work.”

“Says the man who started this!”

“And now I’m finishing it. Grab your weights and do your bloody chest presses before Gavin spots you slacking.”

Later that evening, after I’d finally showered and crawled into bed with my phone, I scrolled through Ryan’s Instagram to find Peaches.

Technically everything I’d heard about Peaches being interested was second-hand, but Jonny had never lied to me and given how damn grumpy he’d been about the whole thing, I didn’t expect him to start now.

The thought of going out with anyone other than Jonny still hurt, but I was used to that. The pain would always be there, lingering like an injury that never fully healed, a raised scar on my heart I’d be able to feel for the rest of my life. But it had never stopped me from dating, even if I’d always struggled to invest myself.

Maybe that was why I’d never had a good relationship. How could I commit to someone I’d never truly love? But Jonny didn’t want me the way I wanted him, and maybe this was his way of giving me a push. After all, he couldn’t keep taking me outdancing and I couldn’t keep coming home to an empty bed and jerking off to fantasies.

Well, I could. But it probably wasn’t good for me.

I pulled up Peaches’s profile and scrolled lazily through, looking at all the pictures of him in drag and pausing now and then to tap on a few of them. There was no doubt that he was gorgeous and an incredibly talented artist. I’d seen him at The Court a few times and always loved his performances as Peachy Keen.

I stopped on one photo from the summer of him out of drag in a sparkling mesh shirt with glitter eyeshadow and glossed lips, a pair of wide leg white trousers riding low on his hips, his dark eyes dancing in the sunlight. He was fucking gorgeous and I could barely tear my eyes away to find the message button at the top of his profile.

Devon Barre

Hey, I saw you at The Court last weekend and you were amazing. I loved the dress you were wearing and your lip sync was on point.

Being charismatic was not the highest thing on my list of skills, and my French teammates had tried their best to teach me over the past few years, mostly because they felt sorry for me and were appalled by my lack of game. I didn’t know whether their lessons had stuck, though. At least I hadn’t started with a dick pic, which simply meant I’d stepped over the bar that was already on the floor.

Peachy Keen

Haha thanks. It’s not my favourite dress to perform in because I flash people if I move too quickly. Also hey, I like your shorts.

Devon Barre

My kit ones? They’re okay but I have better ones.

Devon Barre

And what’s your favourite dress then?

I grinned to myself as I waited to see what Peaches would send through. There weren’t instant butterflies but there didn’t need to be.

All I needed was a distraction from my loneliness.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jonny

“Canyou two please get your fucking asses up?” I grumbled as I grabbed the waistbands of Hunter’s and Gabriel’s shorts and yanked them into position, ignoring their yelped protests. “Stop whining. If you didn’t want underwear up your crack, you shouldn’t have dropped your fucking ass.”

“Next time I’ll shove your underwear up your ass. See how you like it,” Hunter yelled, his voice muffled by Jaden’s and West’s massive thighs.

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