Page 12 of Pitch Prince

“Then we’ll…” I watched her go into what I used to call hernurse mode, where she could look at everything logically, juggle it inside her head and then come out with an answer that worked for everyone. “After the Six Nations tournament, we’ll talk to the kids and our parents. Tell them we’re splitting up, and you can find your own place with a spare room for the kids. They’re old enough to decide where they want to go now.”

“OK,” I said. It was odd to hear her talking so calmly about the breakdown of our marriage.

“And then…only then can you start thinking aboutwhat next. I don’t want the papers speculating that you were shagging men behind my back for our whole marriage. If you want to come out then, or start to go out with men…then we’ll talk. But I need you living elsewhere before I can even start to think about having that conversation.”

“…thank you.” Sarah had given a lot up for me. I couldn’t be angry at her for being upset about the end of what had been a very happy and healthy marriage.

I looked down at my phone on the kitchen island. It was almost time to go.

“Am I OK to wake the kids up?” I asked. After two weeks of training camp it was difficult to leave them again. Even knowing I’d be sleeping back at home in the weeks now the initial training camp was over.

Sarah nodded, so I walked up the stairs, past the kit bag waiting by the door. When I had been younger, it had been so exciting to train for two weeks straight with the best Scottish rugby could offer. Now I felt the same excitement, but it was tinged with sadness to be leaving my kids. I always felt like I was missing out.

I crept into Logan’s room and gave him a kiss on the forehead. He stirred and reached his arms up to wrap around my shoulders. “Be good for your mum,” I said to him. He grumbled something and settled back on the pillow. I pulled the blanket up over his shoulders.

Olivia had fallen asleep and must have left the light on overnight, so I turned it off and pulled up the covers around her before giving her a kiss on the cheek. She was growing upso fastand I rarely got much affection from her now, so I savoured moments like this.

When I walked back down the stairs Sarah was waiting by the door for me with kit bag in hand, just like she always had. It would be weird to be losing this ritual along with a lot else when I finally moved out.

“Are you going to be OK with the kids this weekend?” I asked her.

“I’ve been OK with the kids almost every weekend of the last twelve years,” Sarah smiled. I knew she wasn’t trying to hurt me with the words, but they stung a little bit. I knew I had to do better.

“Thanks. I’ll see you Sunday night,” I said.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” she said. “Despite everything. Despite the fact that we…we couldn’t keep things together. I’ll always be proud of you when you step out on that pitch.”

“Come and watch Italy next week?” I asked. We’d be home at Edinburgh’s Murrayfield stadium and were usually guaranteed a win against them.

“I’ll think about it.” Sarah thrust the kit bag in my hands. “Now go. You don’t want to miss the coach to the airport.”

I opened the door, stepping into the early morning chilly March air. It was time to get down to business.

***

Saturday had dawned bright and beautiful in Cardiff. From my hotel on Westgate Street I could see the Millennium Stadium. The funny metal spikes that gave it its iconic appearance pierced the immediate skyline and I could feel the city buzzing with an expectant hum. We were the first kick off of the day at 12 o’clock. Behind me, still laid up in bed, Steve let out a loud fart that ruined the moment.

“Morning,” I muttered to him as I stalked past him to the bathroom. I was going to have a word with Feargal, our head coach, about having Steve placed elsewhere for the rest of the away games of the tournament. They had been placing him in my room as he was in the same club team as me, and younger and in need of a guiding hand. In my mind, I already had two kids. I didn’t need to shepherd another one who just hadn’t grown up in the last twenty-six years of his life. The sooner he got kicked off the squad for doing something stupid the better.

I headed for the shower, locking the door behind me to keep Steve from coming in for any reason, and stripped off. I was amped up for the match already, that old familiar feeling of need to be on the pitch thrumming through every bone. It got me all fired up and I needed a cold shower so I wouldn’t just expend all my energy before the game.

I stepped under the spray and let it run through my hair and down my shoulders in rivulets. There was another reason I was feeling so pent up again, and it wasn’t just the thought of playing against Wales. It was the thought of playing against Rhys Prince. Since the texts the day before I’d been careful to keep a distance and hadn’t sent anything since. But he’d proven to be a phenomenal player in the matches since and had well deserved his selection.

I’d finally bitten the bullet and followed him on Instagram — surely that was allowed — and guiltily scrolled through a couple of times. In the shower, I let my hand drift downward as I thought of some of his most recent posts from Wales’ training camp, coming off the pitch muddy and wet with his shirt clinging to his defined chest and biceps.

I was playing with myself under the cool water before I knew it. Rhys was the most beautiful, sexy man I’d ever seen and I knew I wanted him. I’d just successfully kept it under wraps even in my own mind. But now, as I stroked myself lazily under the shower I could imagine what he’d do for me. Would he get on his knees under the cold spray, and swallow my cock down greedily? Or would he expect me to do that for him? Did he want me to fuck him, or for me to bend over, arms against cold tile as he entered me and made me his?

Maybe it all depended on the outcome of the match. Maybe if I won I’d get to decide the terms of engagement, let him impale himself on my cock as further recompense for his team losing the game. Would he moan, scream or stay silent? Was he a gentle lover or fierce? Was-

“Fucking hell, how long are you going to spend in there? I need a shit!” Steve’s voice pulled me out of my imagination pretty fucking quickly, and I felt like I’d had a bucket of cold sick thrown over me it was so sudden. What the fuck was I doing? Fantasising about Rhys Prince was only going to be a problem later on.

“I’ll…I’ll be out now,” I said. I turned the shower down to the coldest possible setting and let the freezing cold water get rid of my already-softening erection. I had to get Rhys Prince out of my mind before he could affect my game. Or my life.

***

Rhys Prince wasn’t playing, or at least he hadn’t been for the first sixty-five minutes. But that was changing. The starting number six had been called off and Rhys was coming on to replace him, in his first ever cap for Wales. I could feel a swell of pride for my friend that I tamped down to focus on what was happening. Scotland were winning. Not by a lot, and the game was a hard fought one. But we were winning.

Rhys was like a rocket shoved up the rest of he team’s backsides. He was a wonder to watch as soon as he came on to the pitch and I instinctively knew that he’d be captaining the squad some day. He was a natural leader, shouting above the roar of eighty-thousand Welsh fans to perk up the rest of his flagging team. There had been a few substitutions so far but none had claimed the field like Rhys did. I was amazed that he hadn’t been called up til now. He should have been on the pitch from the day he turned eighteen.

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