“He’s not the only one,” I said. “And, er, the head coach, Clive, has a husband too.”
“I love that.” There was a split-second pause, and I realised exactly what Shane was going to say before the words came out of his mouth. “Do they have any policies against hooking up with players? Because if they don’t and some of them are interested?—”
“No,” I said, refusing to let him even finish his thought.
“Why not?”
“Because mixing work and sex is a recipe for disaster, and I’m not fucking up this job just so I can get my dick wet.”
“Nobody would know unless you told people, though.”
“It’s still a no.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked as I stopped at another set of traffic lights, suddenly very uncomfortable despitethe fact the air con was on. In my denial, I’d made another very good point about why I shouldn’t be involved with Danny. Very few workplace romances ended well, and I couldn’t afford to lose my job if people found out. And that wasn’t even thinking about what it might do to Danny’s career.
He had his whole future ahead of him. He shouldn’t be putting it at risk by fucking around with me.
“It means, I think you’re lying,” Shane said. “I think you would absolutely fuck one of them if they were interested.”
“Why the hell would you think that?”
“Because I know you, and you love it when people want your attention.”
“Are you calling me an attention whore?”
“Yes, but in a good way.”
“How does that work?” I asked, wondering if there was a way I could distract Shane away from this topic of conversation and onto something else. I’d rather talk about his sex life than mine.
“You love it when men come to you and want someone to explore with. You always have. And you love it when men notice you. It’s not a bad thing, honestly, babe. Just own it.”
I sighed. I loved Shane too much to be upset that he knew me so well. “Shane, these men are in their twenties. I’m too old for them and too”—I waved my hand even though he couldn’t see it—“fucked up.”
“Firstly, age is only a number as long as everyone is legal, consenting, and understands the ramifications. And there is a big difference between you hooking up with someone who is mid-twenties and someone who is eighteen. The first one is fine. If it’s the second, then we’re going to have problems. And also, you’re not fucked up. You’ve got baggage. Who the fuck hasn’t? It’s about how you deal with it.”
“Is this where you tell me to get therapy or something?”
“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said. I didn’t know if I would, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. He’d probably know I didn’t mean it anyway.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “You know I want you to be happy, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. You’re about the only person who does, so…”
“That’s not true and you know it. Stop being a morose wanker.”
“Morose?”
Shane laughed. “I know, it’s a good word, isn’t it? I’m trying to use it more often.”
I smiled to myself as I turned onto the street next to mine. “I look forward to hearing what other words you add to your vocabulary.”
“I’ll be sure to find plenty to impress you,” he said. “You do sound happier, though, E. I don’t know what you’re doing or if something changed, but whatever it is, it’s working.”
“I don’t think it’s much. Maybe I’m finally listening to you and not blaming myself completely for what happened with Reed.”
