Page 7 of Pitch Prince

“I don’t want to know how much all this cost,” he said as he gestured to the tables of booze, “but it’s good to celebrate a win.” He clapped Rhys on one shoulder as he passed and Rhys winced.

“Everything alright with your arm? Surely you weren’t playing on an injury.” Seemingly on autopilot, I reached out to touch Rhys’ bicep gently.

He shrugged away. “Doesn’t matter.”

I turned to the bartender uneasily. It wasn’t nice, or in my nature, to see people hurt. But I hardly knew the man. I pointed to what I wanted and turned to Rhys.

“Same for me, please,” he said. I looked at him in the gently pulsing club light. He licked his lips nervously as he stared at the pint being poured by the bartender. No Instagram picture could have prepared me for how mind-blowingly beautiful he was in person. His hair was shiny blonde under the lights and those big blue eyes were wide, pupils blown from the influence of alcohol or the darkness in the room.

Finn Roberts sauntered back over to whisper something in his ear and Rhys laughed and shook his head, batting him away with one friendly hand that rested on his bicep. For just a second I bristled with jealousy before tamping it down. I had a wife and kids at home, and I wasn’t going to throw that away in public without giving them time. Much more time.

That still didn’t stop my curiosity though. “What was that about?” I asked as I passed him the beer.

“Apparently there’s some lads here that wanted to come up…same way as the ladies have come up. For me.” I could see he was blushing under the lights.

“Oh, are they?” I asked, my voice on the strained side of casual.

“Nope,” said Rhys. “I’m not one to have my one night stands broadcast over the internet, and you never quite know who you’re sleeping with.”

“That’s…” I struggled to think of a response that didn’t sound lame.Good? Fair? Understandable? I want you?I settled for just changing the subject instead. “You played really well today. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re facing each other in the Six Nations.”

“I doubt it,” said Rhys. “Not after…this.” He gestured with his good arm toward the other. “I’m not playing rugby as combatively. I dodged you well today, but I’m not taking hits like I should. I’m avoiding tackles, I’m avoiding the ball when I really should be getting involved.”

“Your evasion did you well today, though,” I reasoned, remembering the moment when I thought I might be able to catch him, but he was like a gazelle on the pitch, navigating the mass of bodies with ease.

“It was OK. I got lucky, you might have caught me. Or I might have fucked up the kick. It’ll take more than that to get selected by the Welsh squad.”

I shook my head. He was obviously a phenomenal player who’d never caught his lucky break. I could see much of my young self in him, but he could do so much better than I ever could. Rhys Prince might just be the future of rugby when I was well beyond my career.

Steve, my room-mate, walked up to us with a girl one each arm. He unlinked his arms from them and leaned in toward me. “I’ll be bringing these two back to the hotel with me,” he said with a wolfish grin that turned my stomach. “I don’t need privacy, and I’m sure they’d be happy to share.”

“I’m married, Steve,” I said through gritted teeth. My frustration might have shown on my face because he backed up quickly.

“No worries, pal. I’ll see you later then. If you wouldn’t mind staying out for just a couple of hours…”

I gave a jerky nod and he walked down the stairs, gesturing to the two women — no, girls, as they couldn’t be much older than twenty — to follow.

“Judging him?” Rhys asked me.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. You have a very expressive face.”

I chuckled darkly. “I don’t like that rugby has become…this. Like rich footballers getting their rocks off. I was always taught that rugby was for gentlemen. That rugby was a sport for barbarians played by gentlemen. I just don’t see that any more.”

“Woah, calm down old man. We’re not all banging supermodels,” said Rhys with a pointed glance at Finn, who was tongue deep in a young woman’s mouth. “I’d rather play and go home.”

He yawned. “Speaking of, maybe I should call it a night…”

“Please don’t go,” I said before I could stop myself. God I sounded pathetic. “Steve’s left with those two…and I really don’t want to go back to my hotel room with all that going on.”

“Why not come back to mine?” asked Rhys. My heart skipped a beat, and if his eyes weren’t so wide and earnest I might have thought he was coming on to me. But of course he wasn’t. He was just being kind.

“N-no, I couldn’t.”

“Honestly, I’ve got a sofa bed and I only live down the road. You’ll be able to get back to your hotel before anyone notices you’re missing.”

The thought of getting a few hours’ kip before having to head back to whatever mess Steve was making was a welcome thought.

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