Red Devil rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. “Uh… not exactly.”
I grasp at her words. “What does that mean?”
She studies my masked face carefully, and for a moment I get the feeling she knows who I am. “She was going to come tonight.”
“But?”
Diego appears with my drink, but I don’t even spare him a cursory glance, my gaze solely on the devil in front of me.
The devil sighs, dropping her eyes to the bar. “I don’t know. Something scared her off.”
Something scared her off.
Me.
I scared her off.
For the first time, I curse the rule of no phones allowed in the club. “Can you pass on a message for me?”
Red Devil’s masked eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Sure.”
I rub my hand over my chin. “Tell her I’m sorry I pushed the boundaries. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me in the last couple of years, and I’m sorry I screwed it up.”
Her mouth goes slack as she stares at me, probably wondering what the hell I did to her friend and whether or not she should pass on my message.
“I’m leaving Beckford. I was hoping to say goodbye to her face, but can you please tell her…” My voice wavers, and I take a mouthful of my whiskey to steady myself. “Tell her I don’t regret any of it. She gave my life meaning again, and I’ll never forget her.”
With a deep breath, I place my glass on the bar and turn to leave.
“Wait!” Red Devil reaches out and grasps my forearm. “Where are you going?”
“The UK.” My lips tug into a small smile. “Promise me you’ll tell her I won’t forget her?”
Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she whispers, “I promise.”
“Thank you.” I lean in and press my cool lips to her cheek before I turn and leave.
As I walk through Euphoria for the last time, I see it for its beauty. It’s a place where the people of Beckford can come and discover their sexuality in a safe and welcoming environment. Straight, gay, bi, trans, pan, and everything in between—everyone is free of constraints and judgement when they walk through these doors.
The house isdark when I arrive home after driving aimlessly around Beckford for half the night, not wanting to admit to myself that I was searching forher. I’ve got nothing to go on other than she’s blonde and roughly my age. No name, no personal details. It’s like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
I let myself in, thankful I don’t have to deal withGeorge or Gwendoline’s wrath over my dramatics at dinner. Although my father won’t let me get away with embarrassing him like that. Not for long.
Knowing there’s no chance of sleep with the restless energy running through my veins, I head to the games room and grab a beer from the fridge. After I crack it open, I lean against the pool table and guzzle down half the contents while I try to figure out my next move.
My angel not showing up cut deeper than I thought it would. We may not know each other’s true identities, but I thought we shared a connection that was deeper than sex. For six months, we trusted each other with our most intimate desires, and over that time, I developed feelings for my mysterious stranger—feelings I thought were dead inside of me after what I went through with Breanna.
While my teammates have spent the last six years wetting their dicks in any willing hole, I’ve only been with two women—Breanna and Angel. Maybe I’m the problem. I get attached too easily and see things that aren’t there.
According to Willow, Breanna was a bitch to everyone, but I never saw it until she broke my fucking heart. Did I really have rose-coloured glasses on for four and a half years? Or did I choose to ignore it? After everything she put me through at the end of our relationship, it took almost two years for me to even think about being intimate with anyone else, then I latched onto Angel with an intensity that rivalled my training schedule—clearly, I was dispensable to her though. Am I just fucking broken? Am I destined to fall for women who don’t want me back?
With a shake of my head, I down the rest of my beer. I’m being ridiculous. Football is my dream career. It’s not like I’m going to give it up to stay in Beckford for a woman who doesn’t even want to see me outside of Euphoria.
Fuck. Why have I let this mess with my head so much?
I lift my gaze to the shelves lining the walls, drifting over the trophies that sit there. From my under seven participation medals to the ‘most valuable player’ award from Beckford U last season. Playing international football has been my dream since I was thirteen and I found out Lionel Messi had signed his first contract at my age. From then on, I had a ball at my feet every waking hour of every day. Nine years later, I’m one step closer to my dreams, but instead of being excited, there’s a heaviness settling over me.
Shrugging it off, I realise I need to shift my focus from my dick to the fresh new start that’s awaiting me. I’m twenty-two years old. There’s plenty of time to worry about finding the right woman. I need to get out from my father’s hold and work on making a name for myself in international football.
