Page 39 of Sweeper
I laugh nervously and shake my head at the idea that sex can be called a casual convenience. It’s so different from everything I’ve done in the past. In the past, I’d have to date someone for at least a month before I’d sleep with them. I needed time to build trust and comfort. To make sure I knew who they were before we could be intimate together.
Then again, I waited an entire month to sleep with Rex, and look how brilliantly that turned out. I was in love with him, and I didn’t even know him. Maybe knowing a bloke before you get naked together is overrated.
I mean, look at Phoebe. She makes casual hookups look easy and carefree. She never moans about guy problems. She is fulfilled by not knowing the men she sleeps with.
Zander Williams is likely the male version of Phoebe, and he clearly doesn’t get troubled by anything or anyone. Maybe I’m doing this adulting thing all wrong.
Zander steps closer to me and reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. The sensation sends shivers beneath my poncho, and I turn into his warm touch. It’s a heady sensation having him this close again. I don’t want it to stop.
“This can be fun, Ducky,” he says, his voice low and sultry. “We are consenting adults, and we can make our own rules. So just think about what you want and let me know.” He hits me with a soft, crooked smile that I really would love to kiss right now. Then he leans in, and I hold my breath as he tenderly brushes his lips over my cheek. “I’m only a wall away.”
Zander
“That’s how you fucking do it, boys!” Coach Z yells as the entire team files into the locker room, sweaty, screaming, and flying high from a home game win at Tower Park.
After training the entire week in the official sweeper position and doing drills with Booker over and fucking over, I still couldn’t believe it when Vaughn told me I was starting. The guy actually pulled me aside before the game, looked me in the eyes, and said, “The improvement I’ve seen in you the past week and a half has been so incredible, I’d be a fool to clip your wings tonight. So go out there and fly, son.”
Hearing him call me son at that moment hit me in a way I didn’t expect. I’ve been doing such a good job with focusing on soccer and not giving any real estate in my mind to the DNA results I’m still waiting on. But at that moment, when my manager and possible birth father told me in so many words that he was proud of me, a fantasy took flight in my mind. I allowed myself, just briefly, to imagine what it would be like to play for Vaughn as his actual son.
The scariest part of that image? I actually liked it.
The guilt over that realization was nearly crippling. I felt it hovering over me as I marched out of the tunnel and onto the pitch to warm up. I had a dad. He is who I should play for today and no one else.
Before the game started, I pointed up to the sky and repeated my mantra, football over bullshit. My first starting game isn’t the time to play make-believe. It’s the time for focus.
And that’s what I did until the referee blew the final whistle.
When Knight and Link both tackled me onto the field with celebratory hugs, I realized that somehow, someway, I just finished the best game of my career. Suddenly, Link and Knight are shoved away from me by Booker Harris. He holds his gloved hand out and helps me up before pulling me into a long hug.
“Let’s do this all season, Williams.” He pulls back and shakes my shoulders before stabbing me in the chest with his fingers. “We’re celebrating tonight.”
“Fuck yeah!” Link bellows and wraps an arm around Booker, who doesn’t look like he was planning to celebrate with Link. He laughs and shoves him off, then points at me one more time before jogging over to the sidelines to embrace Vaughn and Tanner.
I stand frozen on the grass, watching the three of them embrace and talk animatedly, their hands gesticulating plays that had happened throughout the match. At one point, all three of them look over at me, and Tanner offers two big thumbs-up while Vaughn directs a round of applause my way.
A knot forms in my throat as I wonder once again if my connection to these men is only soccer related? Or blood related? I’d all but forgotten about the DNA results I’m still waiting on the past few days, but experiencing a win like this has shifted something inside me. I feel a bond to them I hadn’t felt before. Maybe I actually want to be related to them?
After we’ve showered, changed, and completed a few media interviews, we make our way into the player parking lot. Bethnal Green fans crowd the sidewalk, cheering through the gate, and several of the players stop to sign autographs and take selfies.
Once we’re done, we begin loading up into various cars. “Where are we going?” Link asks Booker as we slide into his large SUV.
“We’re going to Old George by your flat, Williams,” Booker replies, glancing at me in the passenger seat. “That’s a family favorite. And if we end up back at your place to play a little FIFA afterward, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
I laugh and pull the bill of my cap down low, amazed that this pro soccer player would even consider sitting on a rookie’s couch playing video games over hitting up a posh nightclub with a million fans to soak up all his glory. Booker Harris is kind of the shit.
Minutes later, we stroll into the Old George, and the patrons instantly start chanting the Tower Park pride song, forming a semi-circle around us. Loads of patrons are decked out in green and white Bethnal Green jerseys and T-shirts as they give all of us a round of applause for the big win tonight. Several fans come over and take selfies with the team, and when one asks me to jump in the shot with him and Booker, I can’t help but smile. To be on top again feels wicked, and the atmosphere of the community all rallying around the team is amazing. We really are the people’s team, just like Daphney said.
Once the crowd clears out and gives everyone some space, my eyes go to the bar in search of good ole Duckmeister to see if she’s working. I couldn’t stop thinking about her last night after our second little hallway tryst. She looked so fucking ridiculous in that mouse-catching getup yet still just as adorable as always. It’s been a while since I’ve had to chase a girl, but I have to admit, I like that she’s not making this easy.
However, I’m not sure what will come of us. I can tell she’s a relationship girl, and I honestly haven’t ever been in much of a relationship. One girlfriend in high school that I dumped to focus on my soccer doesn’t really count, does it? And with all I have going on at Bethnal Green, getting involved in something serious isn’t what I want, either. But just the thought of a missed opportunity with Daphney makes my balls fucking ache.
When Hubert appears behind the bar, I, along with Link, Knight, Booker, Roan, and a few other teammates, sidle up to order some drinks. My head jerks when my phone buzzes against my thigh. I pull it out to see a missed call from my mom. She left a voicemail that I wonder if I should even listen to. It might bring down my good mood.
Unable to stop myself, I press play and move down to the end of the bar to listen. “Hey Zander, it’s Mom. Saw the game online…I was able to buy this package that lets me see the matches, but since I’m not in the right region, my neighbor had to do some sort of hacker thing to hide the location of my computer. I was slightly worried that he used my computer to get on the dark web, but in the end, I was able to watch and…wow…what a game, buddy.” Her voice pauses for a moment, and I hear a soft gasp of breath as she adds, “Dad would have been so proud.” My eyes tear up instantly as my grip tightens around my phone. “Anyway, I took a long lunch to watch, so I’ve got to get back to work before they realize just how long a soccer game actually is.” She laughs and adds, “I love you,” before hanging up.
My heart thunders inside my chest. She watched. She got over herself and she fucking watched me play. There was no apology in there for words said in the past, but it’s a step in the right direction at least. I’d better give her a call tomorrow.
“Zander, we’re going out to the beer garden!” Booker says, handing me a drink and gesturing for me to follow.
