Page 24 of Pitch Prince

“Have you got your key?” Rhys asked. Finn looked at him in confusion and Rhys sighed, digging his hand into Finn’s pocket until he found the key card for the room. Rhys opened the door to Finn and Steve’s room and we both manoeuvred him in. The smell of sick was gross and the gagging noise Finn was making into the bucket was disgusting.

“For fuck’s sake, I can’t believe you’ve gotten into this state on one of the most important tours of your life, man.” Rhys said to him. He sat Finn down on the bed and helped him to undress, peeling off the sick-covered clothes and throwing them into a corner.

“Right, let’s get you some water,” he said. Stupidly I was still jealous of the way he mothered Finn as he lay him back on the bed and got him a glass of water. I just stood there, repulsed by the sick on my clothes. I watched as Rhys expertly tended to Finn and wondered why I was so useless standing back as the younger and less experienced of us did all the work. I was a father, I’d dealt with all this before, but he still seemed to be better at it than me.

After what seemed like an age, Rhys laid out Finn on the bed and put the bucket next to him.

“I think he’ll be fine now,” he said. “He seems to have stopped being sick.”

“…great.” I said. I looked down at myself and at Rhys and gave another dry heave.

“Right. Fuck this,” said Rhys. He fished under Finn’s bed with one arm and pulled out a bottle of whisky. “He owes me this.”

“How did you know that was there?” I asked.

“It’s Finn. He’s always got a stash and he’s always predictable,” said Rhys. “I won’t tell Coach if you don’t.”

“Fine.” I grimaced at him. “But I need a shower first.”

“God, me too.” Rhys led the way out of Finn’s room, checking on him one more time as he left. We walked down the corridor to our room, and Rhys pulled the key card out of his pocket to open the door. When we were in, he swerved over to the kitchen to grab two whisky glasses but then made a beeline for the balcony and I followed him.

By the time I joined him he was already stripping off his shirt and shorts, and he sat at the little table and chair set in just his boxers. I pulled off my own shirt and jeans and threw them into the corner with his. Finally I felt mostly free of the oppressive smell of Finn’s mistakes.

Rhys poured a generous measure of whisky and knocked it back with ease. I couldn’t help but look him over as I grabbed my glass and did the same.

I coughed. “That’ll put hairs on your chest, that.”

“Is that how you got all yours?” he asked. “Scotch whisky?”

I looked down at my own body. I was a little rough around the edges, with red-orange hair over my chest and stomach and a little bit more body fat than rugby players new to the game were coming in with. A dinosaur at just thirty-three years old.

When I looked up at Rhys, his eyes were more…appraising. Maybe I wasn’t as bad looking as I thought.

“Another?” I asked, just to cut through the heavy silence that had fallen between us.

“Please.” So I poured another and we both knocked them back.

“Are you going to tell Wesley about Finn?” Rhys asked.

I considered for a second. I had more of a responsibility as captain than I’d ever had before, and I knew that I should be more responsible for people acting up and compromising the team. But Rhys looked so concerned. If only he knew how pliable I was because of those baby blue eyes.

“No,” I said. “Not this time. But tomorrow…I’m asking that you talk to him. You need him to know that he can’t be like this on Lions tours. I’ve been with him before and he wasn’t this bad. So if there’s something that’s causing him to act out, or misbehave…”

“I’ll talk to him. Thank you. One more?” At my nod, Rhys poured another glass of whisky.

“He likes you, doesn’t he?” I asked before taking a swig. Rhys choked on his drink and put it down.

“N-no, I don’t think so.”

“I see it in the way he looks at you,” I said, trying not to let any jealousy creep into my voice. “And it’s like…he acts up because of you, like he’s showing off. And then when you show disapproval, he calms down straight away.”

I finally took a sip of my whisky as Rhys thought. Finally, he spoke. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he said. “But I can see it.”

“So you know that he’s…” I trailed off. Did he know I was hiding something. Were gaydars actually a universal thing that I’d mostly missed out on?

“I’ve…heard rumours,” Rhys said. “Nothing concrete, and I’ve never wanted to push his boundaries. He’s my friend, and if he wants to tell me something, he can.”

I finished my glass of whisky. There was a pleasant buzz running through my body from the alcohol and from sitting outside in the cold with one of my favourite people.

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