My heart races as I let myself into the house. Jasper and Dane are in the living room watchingTed Lasso, but I ignore them and head straight upstairs to my room and pace back and forth, my fingers tearing at my hair. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Zac’s words play on repeat, his scent still lingering.
“Why the hell they named you captain has got me beat.”
Until Mitch Peters popped his shoulder out at the end of last season, I’d been at the top of my game. I worked hard, trained hard, and played hard. Then Kincaid got his starting position and everything fell to shit.
I started making stupid decisions in front of goal that you can’t afford to make when you’re the last line of defence. The role of a centre-back is to make sure your keeper doesn’t end up in a one-on-one, and ever since Kincaid stepped into the box, I’ve been failing.
He’s right.
I don’t know why they named me captain.
Flopping onto my bed, I stare at the ceiling, my fingers scratching at my scars. I need to figure out how to switch off this animosity towards my goalkeeper before I cost usthe season. Contrary to what he thinks, I’m not treating him like shit because he’s bisexual. I’m doing it because I’m so aware of him on the pitch that it messes with my ability to think, and I hate myself for it.
I need to block him out, because regardless of how my body reacts to him, it isnevergoing to happen. There may be some wiring in my brain that’s all wrong, but apart from my visits to Euphoria once a month, I’m not exploring the possibilities of what it means. I don’t like guys. Ican’tlike guys.
As if sensing my internal struggles, my phone rings, and I check the screen to see it’s my dad.
I want to ignore it, but if I don’t answer, it will only make him angry, and a pissed-off Carl Bentley can be unpredictable.
“Hi, Dad,” I say with a heavy sigh when I answer.
“How was training tonight?” he asks, not even bothering with formalities.
“Good.”
“You better step up and turn the season around, Noah. Our family name is on the line with you as captain. Having a former championship team bottom of the ladder the following season doesn’t look good.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re looking sloppy out there. What the hell is happening in Beckford? Do I need to send someone to keep an eye on you?”
His warning is clear. He won’t allow another scandal like the one at Perth University, and if I fuck up my second chance at Beckford U, who knows what steps he’ll take to pull me into line.
“No,” I rush to tell him. “There’s no need to send anyone up here. I… um… I’m seeing someone. A chick. She’s really hot, and I’ve just been caught up in a few late nights with her. But she’s going to stop staying over before games. I need to get my full eight hours of sleep, you know?” I force a chuckle, my stomach churning at the lie.
“Get your head on straight, boy,” he growls. “You’re up there to finish your business degree so you can take your place in the company, not so you can fuck around. If soccer or anything else becomes a distraction, you’ll be dropping it.”
My chest tightens. Soccer is the only good thing I have in my life. I can’t let him take it away.
“I mean it. Turn the season around, stop fucking around, and keep your nose clean. Beckford U better win this weekend, and any whiff of anything untoward going on and I’ll come down on you like a house of bricks, you hear me?” There’s no disregarding the threat behind my father’s words. He means every last one of them.
“Yes, sir.”
He hangs up on me.
I roll over and scream into my pillow. How did I let my life spiral so out of control over one infuriating golden boy? Whatever’s going on in my head needs to get the fuck out before I find myself in a worse situation than Perth. If something like that happens again, my dad will deal with it once and for all, and it won’t end well for me.
My father is a ruthless man If I embarrass him again, I know without doubt… I won’t survive his next lesson.
Somehow,I ignore Zac’s presence on the pitch for the rest of the week at training, and my game is already improving. I don’t cuss him out, but I don’t speak to him either, choosing to pretend he doesn’t exist. As long as he’s protecting the net, I focus on what I have to do.
I feel good about the upcoming game against Macquarie University, and the vibe in the change rooms on Thursday afternoon tells me the team does too. Showering quickly, I keep my head down while I get dressed and hightail it out of the rooms before anyone can stop me.
Tomorrow night is the masked night at Euphoria, and I’m desperately trying to distract myself from giving in to temptation. We have a Saturday game, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardise my current concentration.
When I reach the car park, I spot a familiar person walking to their car, and an idea pops into my head.
