Page 22 of Brat on the Ball

“Earth to George. Earth to George.” Al was snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Thanks for the wine, sweetie. But I need a guy to take charge. And your head just isn’t in it tonight.”

He kissed me on the cheek and sauntered off to the dance floor. To my left, Finn laughed out loud.

“Not a word,” I growled.

“Any guy here, sure. Just as long as you aren’t pining after a man who doesn’t even know who you are.”

I went to reply when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I grabbed it quickly, checking the notification as my heart pounded out of my chest.

And there it was. The message I’d pretended I wasn’t waiting for.

Unknown Number: Hi. It’s Ol.

Chapter Twelve - Ollie

Hi Ol. It’s George.

Hi, Ol. Did you want to meet Monday? My place. No public pressure.

Hi Ol. I’ll send you my address later. No pressure, remember.

Those few texts were all I had. Monday’s training session had pushed me to my limits, and I was sitting with my feet in a bucket of ice-cold water in my penthouse overlooking Cardiff Bay. We’d not texted much, just those brief things to organise…whatever it was we were going to do.

I had showered again when I got home, just in case George wanted more than we’d had so far. I knew I did, but I didn’t know if his demanding attitude would make it an easier or tougher prospect. Would he know to be gentle if I asked? Somehow, I knew he would. We had shared a lot of trust in one another.

I sniffed the hoodie laying next to me, and though it was smelling more like my apartment by the day, there were still hints of him on it. The minty smell of Vicks rub, a couple of grass and mud stains at the bottom. Was he a sportsman like me? I’d googled ‘George sports’, which had led to the sweet sum of fuck all, because there were millions of results. ‘George Dom Top’ hadn’t led to anything either, but it had been a fun diversion.

My phone buzzed again, and I checked it, ready for him to send me his address. Unfortunately, it was a call from my manager, and I picked up with a sigh.

“Hi, John. What do you want?” I asked.

“Why do you always presume I want anything?” he asked. “As always, it’s mebringingsomethingto you. Not the other way round.”

“What do you have?”

“Well, Reading was a dead end after you strung them along-”

“-you strung them along John, I told you no from the start-”

“-anyway, I’ve started to get some big-name interest in you.”

Despite my best interests, I bit. “What? Like the Premier League?”

John laughed. “No, kid. The Saudi league.”

“No. No way.”

“Wait till you find out how much they’re paying! You’ll get used to the heat!”

“I don’t care, John-”

“Half a million!” he shouted over the phone. “Half a million a fucking week! Over twenty mil a year.”

“OK? What am I supposed to do with that information?” My heart thudded. It was a lot of money, but surely even John wasn’t so much of an idiot that he was considering it.

“You thinking about it?” he asked.

“No, John. In case you’d forgotten, I’m gay.”

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