Page 15 of Pitch Prince

“It all stays in this flat,” I replied. “These four walls hold many secrets.”

Callum smiled at me then, and it wasn’t forced or fake in any way. It looked a little sad, even, but honest. “I’m giving it all up,” he said. “After the British Lions tour, if I even get selected for it.”

“You’re…giving up what? International rugby?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine a world of rugby without Callum Anderson.

“All of it. Edinburgh, the national team. I’ve made my money, it’s time to tell my kids first.”

“Do your teams know? Your coaches?” I asked.

Callum laughed quietly. “No one knows. Not even my wife and kids.”

That shut me up for a second. “…well, I’m honoured you’ve told me. You’ll be missed in the rugby world. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t particularly like my face, but I’ve been told it’s handsome enough to be a pundit. The BBC and a couple of other channels have asked me if I’d ever want to provide commentary. So I guess I will.”

“That’s…fantastic,” I said. I was still reeling from the thought. But I was glad that he was facing up to what he wanted to do.”Will you miss it?”

“More than anything in the world. Rugby was my first love. But it’s taken me until now to realise I need to focus on my other loves.”

We went silent then. Would Callum still want to be a friend when the one thing we had in common, playing rugby, was gone? His outpouring made me think that perhaps our friendship was safe no matter what. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

“Fucking hell, look at the time,” said Callum. “I’ve completely outstayed my welcome.”

“Never, feel free to call around any time.” I meant it.

Callum got up and headed for the door, and I trailed behind him. “Text me so I know you’re back to your hotel safe?” I asked.

“Sure. Though I don’t think many pissheads in the city centre are going to be a match for me.”

“Still,” I said, “we’re all vulnerable sometimes. Know you don’t have to be that big strong manallof the time.”

Before I knew it, I was being enveloped in a big, tough, bone-crushing hug. I wasn’t used to being hugged by people any taller than me, and my forehead rested neatly on his shoulder. His hoodie smelled so at odds with the rugby pitch, light and flowery, and underneath that I could just about make out the smell of Callum himself. A masculine deodorant and the smell of freshly cut grass and earth that seemed to follow so many rugby players no matter how often they showered.

“Thank you for being a friend,” he said. And then he was walking down the corridor, down the stairs and away. And I was alone.

I shut the door, feeling suddenly quite alone in the tiny flat. Callum had unloaded a lot on me in the time he’d been here, and I wanted to be there for him. Waiting for the text to say he was home safe, I washed and dried out coffee cups and re-arranged the identical daffodils in their makeshift vase three times.

Finally, the text came through.

Callum: Back safe. Thank you for tonight.

I smiled down at my phone and headed to the bedroom. It was late, and I’d have to be up early to get back to the hotel before the coach picked us up to take us back to training camp. Callum’s team would be lucky enough to have half the week off and train at their usual spot, Murrayfield Stadium in Edinburgh. Wesley was enough of a hard-arse coach that we would hardly have a day off between games. But Wesley Peterson was a winner. And he gave us winning results.

I shucked my dressing gown off onto the floor and crawled into bed. A problem I’d been ignoring since I got interrupted slowly made itself known, so I let my hand drift down toward it. Without opening my phone again I took my cock in my hand and started to stroke. Just this once, I let the thought of those green eyes looking into mine help me along my way. The thought of Callum Anderson’s big hands wrapped around my thighs, pushing them up against my chest as he slowly thrust down into me. The grunts in that beautiful Scottish accent and how he’d sound when he finally unloaded deep inside me.

I came all over my own stomach with a groan to the sound of Callum’s voice in my head.I see you. Only you.

8

Chapter Eight - Callum

“So, I’m quitting,” I said to my expectant audience. My wife and kids were looking at me with completely inscrutable expressions. “If I get selected for the British and Irish Lions tour this year, I’ll do it. But after that, there’ll be no more rugby. I’ll be done.”

It was Logan who spoke first. “Does that mean you’ll be playing with us more, Daddy?”

I let my face split into the grin that I’d been holding back.Thatwas why I was quitting rugby. “Yes, I’ll be home much more. I promise.”

Both kids rushed to hug me, and I looked at Sarah over their heads. She still hadn’t said anything and that worried me.

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