Page 6 of Pitch Prince

“Why would I need three?” I asked, tucking them into the pocket of my jeans where they lay folded on the bench.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a three-woman…um, man, night,” Finn said.

“Are you serious? You think anyone else has the stamina after a match to fuck one person, let alone three?”

“You’re missing out, man. The Horse needs feeding.”

I punched him on his shoulder. “I don’t need to see the fucking horse, so put your clothes on.”

“See anyone on the Edinburgh side who takes your fancy? I can run reckon if you want, find out of there are any closeted shirtlifters in the squad…”

This time I whipped him with my towel and he yelped. “Don’t say shirt lifters. That’s offensive. And isn’t that lesbians anyway? And no. I could do without that drama, thanks very much.”

“I don’t know man, I don’t know. You’re the expert,” he muttered.

4

Chapter Four - Callum

The club was heaving, sweaty and smelly. And so far, at least six different people had asked for my photo and another five had called me a ‘Scottish wanker’. The mood had been sombre enough in the team and I wasn’t sure if being around a public who’d rather have seen us lose by a much bigger margin was going to help. Rugby was a gentleman’s sport but that didn’t mean that every fan subscribed to that idea. But dejectedly sitting in the changing room or a quiet hotel bar with a beer wasn’t an option for most of the team.

I guessed we all stood out, the average rugby player towering over most club punters and all of us in shirt and tie with the Edinburgh Thistle logo whilst everyone else was in jeans and hoodies. It wasn’t the fanciest of clubs and with a live band in the corner playingUptown FunkI couldn’t tell if I was way older than the intended market or about a decade younger. The whole place was populated with students and middle aged men with seemingly no in-between.

“Hey!” A shout cut over the loud music from somewhere above. The stairs had been roped off, but at the top stood a big guy I’d played against quite a few times - Finn Roberts from the Cardiff and Wales team. “Come on up!”

I gestured to the rest of the squad and the bouncers let us up. Upstairs was much quieter, much less of a squeeze and gave me less chance of having a drink poured down my white shirt. Every table had a bottle of Prosecco in a bucket in the middle and a tray of shots.

“This is a winner’s party!” Finn roared in my face. All I could give back was a tight smile. I was too old for this shit, way too old now. Having kids at twenty-one meant I’d had to mature quick. And clubbing wasn’t totally my scene. I just hadn’t wanted to be the one member of the team who stayed back at the hotel whilst everyone had a good time.

I looked around at the Wales squad, full of happy faces. All except one. Rhys Prince sat in the corner talking to a girl, and he was gently pushing her away every time she slung an arm over him. Without hesitation I walked straight over and sat in between them. I wasn’t a small man so it was a pretty forceful manoeuvre but she seemed to get the message and turned to the player next to her, who was much more receptive to her advances.

“You OK? You looked uncomfortable,” I said into his ear.

“All good. Finn likes to invite the ladies up, and they’re not for me. They seem to forget that though,” Finn replied. I shivered and hoped he wouldn’t notice. There he was, putting his sexuality out there like it was nothing. “Any good looking gay boys on your team?” he added.

I had just taken a sip of beer and almost choked. “No,” I spluttered. I wasn’t about to say anything anytime soon, Sarah and I had agreed, for the kids. And I wasn’t exactly good looking, it wasn’t like me confessing would do anything for either of us.

“You seem awfully sure,” said Rhys. “I can bet you there’s at least one closeted player in every team.”

“Not in ours,” I said too quickly. Far too quickly, as Rhys’ eyes narrowed at me in the darkness of the club.

“Never had the Gentleman of Rugby pegged for a homophobe,” he said, shifting a tiny bit away from me.

“N-no, I’m not. I promise. Sorry, that sounded wrong.”

“Indeed it did.” Rhys had turned back to me now but hie eyes were colder. How many horrible men had put him down playing rugby as a gay man?

“I…I really am sorry,” I said. “What are you drinking?”

“You don’t need to…” he started.

I downed what was left of my bottle of beer. “Seriously. I’m buying myself a drink, what are you having? An apology for my ignorance.”

“I’ll…come with you. Getting a bit claustrophobic.” Rhys looked past me at the long bench seats, which were getting filled gradually with more players from both Edinburgh and Cardiff, as well as a few extra women who had made their way upstairs. We were all sharing rooms so I hoped to god that my hotel room-mate, Steve, wasn’t going to bring me back with him. I glanced over, to see two scantily-dressed women clinging to his arms.Fuck.I’d sleep in the bathtub if I had to.

We both stood and walked to the bar. Rhys would be relatively tall in any normal situation, at six foot at least. But I towered over him. When another girl approached us, I gently ushered her towards the rugby-player filled corner.

The bar upstairs was much quieter than downstairs. Finn Roberts was chatting to the bartender when we approached, and passed over his credit card to the bartender before turning to us.

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