Page 43 of Brat on the Ball

“But I know Ollie. I know how fantastic a player he is, and how committed he is to the sport. And I know that he’s one of the best men I’ve ever known. From the second I caught eyes with him across a crowded dance floor, I knew he was going to be something special. Even if it took my brain a while to catch up to my heart. Because I know who he is, both on and off the pitch. And I am in love with Ollie Gunnerson. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. I don’t know how to love him, and cliche as it sounds, it might just drive me mad if he can’t love me back in the way I need him to.”

I stopped reading, looking down at my phone and willing my tears not to fall. I couldn’t make eye contact with Ollie. Until he put one finger under my chin and tilted my head up so that I had to look at him.

“I love you,” he said. “And thank you. I can’t think of a better way to come out. Me, you. Us, together. And people are going to know it. Now let’s get up and go before the paparazzi arrive.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Cardiff Stadium. It’s time for us to make a plan.” Ollie smiled at me, and for the first time in our relationship, I felt like he was a hundred times more certain than me about what the future held.

Chapter Twenty-Three - Ollie

By the time we got to the stadium, there were already reporters and paparazzi outside. Being the first professional footballer in a generation to come out was drawing just as much attention as I had worried it would.

“Are you scared?” George asked as we drove slowly through the little crowd into the players’ private car park, camera bulbs flashing through the window.

“Yeah,” I admitted, reaching over the gearstick to take his hand and squeeze it. He squeezed back, and like so many times before, he grounded me to the spot. I was where I needed to be with him.

I parked near the back of the car park, away from the gates and the flashing lights and shouted questions, but still reached for George’s hand as soon as we were both out of the car.

“You’re taking this very well,” he remarked.

“Just be there for me when I crash, yeah?” I smiled, but my resolve might as well have been held together with duct tape.

“Of course.” George’s grip on my hand tightened, and I led him into the stadium. We walked past the few staff who were already working, and to Tim’s office.

I knocked, and walked in before I got a response. Tim was on the phone, and held up a finger. “No, we will not be commenting at this time. I don’t know, tell them I’m ill. Or dead!” He slammed the phone down and smiled weakly at us. “You’ve certainly made an impression, Ollie. I take it this is George Reynolds?”

“Pleased to meet you,” said George, the gruff rugby lad persona in place as he reached over to shake Tim’s hand.

“Sit down, lads. Let’s talk, shall we?” Tim gestured, and I realised he’d set out a second chair in the corner. George took it, and I sat down in my usual chair across from Tim.

“Now, I was asleep in bed with my lovely wife when I got the DEFCON one call this morning, so please forgive me for being a bit light on the details. But it seems that George’s blog has caused quite a stir with revelations as to your sexuality. I admit when I asked you to think about how you were going to approach this, I wasn’t expecting…well, this, at all.”

“I didn’t mean it to happen this way,” I said.

“So the man over there who is…let me check my notes…deeply in love with you happened to write a blog on the night we talked about you doing out, without any interference from you?”

“Well when you put it like that…” I started.

I didn’t get to finish though, because seconds later the door was being hit like it had offended someone. “I’m fucking coming in!” shouted a man. A man with a very familiar voice.

“Down, boy,” I muttered as George stood up to face the intruder.

John burst into the office with a face like thunder. “You littlecunt,”he said with more venom than I had ever heard in his voice. “You’ve fucked up your life, my retirement, all because you were selfish.One yearwould have set you up for life and you threw it away. For what?”

“Love, I guess,” I said, containing the tremble in my voice. “And bravery, if I’m lucky. Not selfishness. I try my best not to be selfish, given all I already have. But I guess that concept means nothing to you.”

“I will end you,” he said. “I will rip your life apart if I have to. I know things…”

“I’d rather you didn’t speak to my player like that,” said Tim. But John just held up a hand to stop him talking, the arrogant little prick that he was.

“I know things. The places you’ve gone, the things you’ve done.”

“Like?” I asked. I was tired of his games, but slightly scared of what he had.

“Wings,” he hissed. “You visit kink clubs. You think that’ll go down well with marketing, or the team owners?”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Could he know what had gone on in there?

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