There was a message from Shane too, asking how I was doing and how the weekend was going. I’d mentioned I had to work and had a vague memory of telling him I’d call him after. I quickly tapped out something to say I was good and about to drive home, knowing he’d likely call me as soon as he saw it.
Shane loved a good natter, and I was always happy to listen to him. He often left me voice notes the length of mini podcasts, catching me up on everything he could think of while he walked home or pottered around his house, with the occasional aside from Eric when he had something to add.
As predicted, two minutes later his name flashed up on the console screen and I tapped the button to answer. “Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”
“Ugh, terrible. The kitchen is an absolute mess and I’m really not sure I like the cabinets we picked. They looked so nice online, but now they’re here I’m convinced the colour is different! They were supposed to be a lovely cream, but they look white to me and it’s too stark. Eric thinks I’m overreacting,” Shane said with a dramatic sigh which I knew was directed at his husband. “Ooh, but you were right. Those glass anal beads are amazing.”
I chuckled. “I’m glad you liked them. And I’m sorry about the cabinets. They might look different when you get everything else and finish decorating. Live with them for a bit before you do anything rash like sand and repaint them.”
“I hadn’t thought about doing that. I was going to rip them out and get new ones.”
“No, you weren’t,” Eric said in the background. “Tell the truth.”
“Fine, I wouldn’t rip them out. I’d live with them… and sulk about it for months.”
“Thank you!”
“Rude!”
“He’s not rude; he’s right. You would sulk,” I said as I stopped at some traffic lights. “You’re such a brat sometimes.”
“As is my right,” Shane said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You sound like you’re in a good mood. Was work good today?”
“I mean, the team won. Although it was only a preseason friendly and we weren’t playing anyone difficult, so it’s not surprising.”
“Hmm, it’s not that then. Unless you’ve suddenly developed a fondness for men in tiny shorts without telling me.”
I had, but I couldn’t tell Shane that without him asking who I was looking at. And if I told him it was Danny, that would open up a massive can of worms. I wasn’t sure if there was technically anything wrong with what we were doing, I hadn’t bothered to check any of the employee or player handbooks, but we both had more than a few reasons not to tell anyone.
Danny deserved privacy to explore who he was without having to answer endless questions about himself, what he wanted, or what we were doing.
And me… well, I was an emotionally unstable mess who was fourteen years older than him and going through a bitter divorce with a man who hated me. I was the furthest thing from a good choice for him, but I was the one he’d made. And I was determined not to fuck this up.
If this was the only thing I got right in my life, then I’d be okay with that.
“Not all of their shorts are tiny,” I said. “And you know half of them have partners?”
“So? There’s nothing wrong with looking.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Are you looking? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone except Eric.”
“Maybe.”
“I knew it! See! They are gorgeous, aren’t they?” He sighed happily. “Mmm, who’s that tall, broad one with the blond hair and pretty eyes? Huge thighs and big chest.”
“West Russell?” I asked, hazarding a guess based on how Shane’s mind worked.
“Yes! Fuck me, he’s gorgeous. I would totally climb him like a tree.”
“He’s got a boyfriend,” I said. West was very open about his sexuality and his relationship with his partner, who was a local drag queen, and had never shied away from including him in posts on his personal social media. His partner was even hopefully going to be involved in a charity match for Pride that we had coming up.
“Seriously? He’s gay?”
“Bi, I believe.”
“That’s awesome,” Shane said excitedly. “I can’t believe you’ve got an openly queer player on the team.”
