Maybe, I think with my head leaned against the cold glass of the black cab window, I need to—ugh—follow Clara’s advice, at least for a bit. Go out. Fuck more men. Get Freddie out of my system. Surely, having a larger sample size will make the memory of Freddie pale.
Because if it doesn’t, I’m truly fucked.
CHAPTER 5
Freddie
FEBRUARY
By mid-February,I’ve convinced myself that Marlon is nothing but a team mate. I may have felt a bit of a crush there for a moment, but whatever. It’s passed. I’m back to normal.We’reback to normal.
Then he goes and scores a goal and my house of lies crumbles.
It’s a banger of a free-kick, fired directly into the goal’s upper-left corner, leaving the opposing goalkeeper helpless. It’s super fucking important for the team, clinching a last-minute win against a direct opponent. It’s also Marlon’s first goal since our promotion to the first team.
Sure, he was never a goal getter—that’s my job, after all. That makes it all the more exciting.
My gaze flies to him and I am charmed by the surprised expression on his face. It takes him a full second and I watch, gleefully, when joy and pride finally flood his face. His eyes go wide, the corners of his mouth lift, and he beams.
He is so. Fucking. Beautiful.
The whole team runs towards him, descending upon him like an avalanche of joy. My heart lurches at the sight of it, his laughing face no longer visible but etched into my heartnonetheless. Everything I’ve pushed down the last couple of weeks comes back with even more ferocity.
I’m late to join the celebrations, momentarily stunned by my happiness for him and the feelings churning in my heart. Now though, my body moves, carrying me across the field to the pile of happy Westfield players. They’re hugging him, clapping his back, yelling in his ear.
I want to push them away so I can have him all to myself, selfishly, wantonly. Kiss his laughing mouth, admire the way he’s beaming like he wants to light up the whole damn stadium by himself. But I keep a grip on myself. Barely. Instead, I jump into his arms, loving the strength of his arms as he catches me and holds me up. I hold onto him, one hand reaching up to cradle his head, unable to stop myself.
“Yes!” I shout at him, too overwhelmed for words. “Yes! You did it!” The moment is mixing everything together, things that should be staying separated, playing our sport and being mates and being more than mates and, I realise belatedly, being watched by dozens of bloody cameras.
I jump back, out of Marlon’s arms, and instead wrap him in a tight hug. “You amazing man”, I say into his ear, not letting him go. “I could kiss you right now.”
Marlon’s body stiffens, but he’s better than me at doing this. “Funny,” he retorts. “Julian told me the same thing.”
I laugh and then I inhale deeply, the smell of his sweat reminding me of that one night we had together. “Yeah, but did he mean it?”
Marlon lets go of me and I instinctively chase after his warmth, then pull myself together. Everybody else is already back in position, ready to kick off again for the last minute or two still remaining on the clock. I should get back too. I should move.
“Do you?” Marlon’s question hits me hard and as I look at him, tension hangs heavy between us for a moment. There’s something in his gaze that hits me right in the gut.
Then he grins, lopsidedly, claps me on the shoulder and jogs down the field, back to his place in the line-up. I follow him, body moving on auto pilot while I mull over the question.
Do I?
No. Obviously. It was a one-time thing.
Hadidja and I aren’t real, but I still need to act like we are. I can’t blow both of our covers.
Occasional one night stands? Sure. Going back for more to the same person? No way.
The referee looks impatient when I finally return to the centre circle for kick-off. He blows his whistle and I force my head back in the game. That’s what matters. That’s all that can matter.
Things go back to normal eventually. I keep scoring, the team keeps winning. Marlon and I are both called up to the national team, though only I get to play. We act normal around each other and it’s helpful that Julian and his best friend Jakub are drawing attention towards themselves, like they have for years. It takes the spotlight off of me, which gives me room to breathe.
This first season is turning out to be a whirlwind. An amazing, overwhelming, breathtaking whirlwind of unexpected success and attention. It makes me perform better and it also makes me keep my secrets even closer to my chest. Aspiring youth player Freddie Bloom didn’t want his sexuality to come tolight. Rising star Freddie Bloom cannot risk it. It would destroy everything.
Hadidja has been awesome, leaning into the role of supportive girlfriend, posting pictures of us together or of herself in the arena, wearing my jersey. The happy couple we pretend to be is nowhere near the truth; I’m barely home as the season inches towards the finish line, and Hadidja has started seeing someone in secret. A woman. I love that for her, and for me, too. It’s nice to have someone who gets it. Who knows what it’s like to fall for a person, not a gender.
Not that I’ve fallen for anyone, lately. Obviously.
