Love had snuck up on me slowly, creeping its way into my heart and seeping into every part of me, like it knew I would try and reject it if it arrived in style. I hadn’t had some grand realisation with soaring music and butterflies and shit like that. It happened, of all places, in fucking Waitrose when Danny was looking at bottles of vodka.
He’d had a box of Crystal Head in hand, examining the skull-shaped bottle inside and turning the packaging over to read the label. “Fuck me, this sounds pretentious,” he’d said, shooting me a smile. “We should absolutely fucking get some.”
“I didn’t think you liked neat vodka,” I’d said teasingly as I picked up a bottle of Grey Goose.
“Yeah, well, it’s grown on me,” he’d said. “And you like it. Oh, but I also wanna get some of that piña colada mix we got last time, ’cos that shit was the fucking cock. Besides, I can’t have you thinking I’m classy all the time.”
I’d chuckled and put my arm around him, kissing the side of his head.I love him, I’d thought as I’d watched Danny wander off with the trolley in search of cocktail mixes, singing ‘The Piña Colada Song’. He was wearing a tank top, ripped jeans, and a brand-new pair of trainers, his mullet and moustache perfectly styled, and I knew I’d never forget what he looked like in that moment.
The image seared itself into my memory and branded the emotion on my soul, undoing and remaking me all in a single instant.
If you’d told me seven months ago, when I’d first moved to Lincoln, that I’d fall in love again without even realising it, I’d have packed my bags and moved to Australia before we’d finished the conversation. But now, falling in love with Danny felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Reed might have been my spring, capturing the first part of my life, but Danny was my summer, bright and bold and glorious and unflinchingly fearless. The love that I felt for him might be new, but it was deep-rooted and certain. I could be myself with him, all my sarcastic, bossy, needy messiness exposed to the light.
Danny had seen me at my lowest, at my most shattered and broken, and he’d still chosen me. And there was something to be said for that.
I was terrified about telling him, but Shane had reminded me that fear was natural, especially after everything. It was how I chose to deal with it that mattered. And I was going to choose hope.
On the pitch below me, the match had kicked off and I tried to focus on the game as a whole and not just what Danny was doing. But it was difficult. Danny was so fun to watch, especially when he wasn’t involved in play. He’d smooth out his moustache, adjust his shorts, and shout and yell at the others, pointing and waving his hands like he was exasperatedly directing an aircraft.
I could imagine what he was yelling, even if I couldn’t hear him, and I chuckled to myself as I watched him berate Bailey for something.
But when the ball came his way, he snapped into action before I could blink, powering forward down the wing as Brighton’s defence tried to catch him. One of them caught him around the waist, forcing him to twist in their grasp and hand off the ball to Kegan before they released him. Danny staggered slightly but didn’t go down and immediately got stuck back into the action.
Brighton were really trying to push the Knights and prove what they were made of, but it didn’t take too long for Charlie to get the ball over the line, arm outstretched as players piled on top of him. But the whistle blew, the try was given, and the Knights opened their account for the season.
I cheered and clapped, smiling brightly as I watched Danny jumping on top of Charlie as soon as he got up, the two of them celebrating together. I knew Danny would be ridiculously proud of his friend but also desperate to get a try of his own on the board. Especially since I’d teasingly suggested we could implement a rewards system for each of his tries and assists.
I’d called it a bit of extra incentive, even though I’d always spoil him rotten, and Danny had immediately made me promise to swear to it.
“You won’t get two matches in and decide I’ve had too many rewards, will you?” he’d asked while sitting naked in my lap.
“No, I’d never do that to you.”
“Swear then.”
“I swear,” I’d said, rolling him over and kissing him. “And if I break my promise, you can choose my punishment.”
He’d grinned and wrapped his arms around my neck. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what Danny would conjure up, but it would certainly be interesting. He hadn’t shown any interest in topping because, in his words, it was always a bit shit when he was fucking women and why would he want to do something shit? I couldn’t argue with him there.
My punishment would probably be something like letting him have as many orgasms as he wanted, whenever he wanted them. Which wasn’t much of a punishment, but I wouldn’t argue with him.
Brighton managed to get themselves a penalty, bringing the score to seven to three, but it wasn’t long before the Knights were threatening again, the whole team trying to get the ball across the line. With every step, every heave, the ball got closer. But I didn’t think they were going to make it.
Then the ball got passed out wide. And again, spinning backwards, straight into Danny’s arms.
Nobody had marked him—he was too far out and back for them to think him relevant. But that was their downfall.
And the crowd roared as he gleefully launched himself across the line, sliding across the turf and putting the ball down to score.
Good boy.
“Fancy seeing you here,” said Danny as he strolled out of the changing room to find me leaning against the corridor wall, phone in hand so I could review some of Adam’s posts.
He was wearing his usual slutty tank top and shorts, and I wondered if he’d still be wearing them in the middle of winter or whether he’d finally throw on a hoodie. His hair was slicked back where it was still wet, because he could never be bothered to give it more than a cursory rub with a towel to dry it, and there was a soft tiredness to his body that made me want to envelop him in my arms and hold him there.
