“Mar.” I reach a hand out to him, trying to smooth over the strange tension. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—I didn’t want?—”
The lines of his chin are hard as he looks at me. “Then don’t.” He sighs and his features soften. “Sorry. It’s been…a day.”
“Yeah.” My arm is still outstretched and I wave my hand, invitingly. “I know. Come here.”
Marlon hesitates for a second, then rubs his eye and nods, moves back towards the bed.
I grab a hold of him as soon as I can, pulling him to me. He tumbles onto me and laughs, involuntarily. I push him to his back then rest my head on his chest. I know I can’t stay here. All of this has been a mistake. A mistake I enjoyed too much to regret.
Marlon’s arm wraps around me and he exhales slowly, his muscles relaxing. “Thanks,” he whispers and his fingers get tangled in my hair for a second, caressing my skin.
I fucking melt against him, it feels so good. I feel so…at home.
Shit.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time, but I push myself off of Marlon’s chest and sit up. I have to. We can’t do this. “You doing better?” I smile down at him like I’m not breaking my own heart right now.
Marlon looks at me with a sadness that’s worse than the sorrow from up on the terrace. Then he blinks and the expression is gone, like it was never there. “Yeah,” he says softly and smiles back. “I needed that.”
I give him a tiny salute. “Glad to be of service. If you ever need another distraction, you know where to find me.”
Fuck.
That shouldn’t have left my mouth.
It shouldn’t even have been on my mind.
I swallow and raise both hands, doing my best to produce my usual shit-eating grin. “Kidding, obviously. Kidding. Obviously this can’t happen again.”
Marlon nods slowly, then closes his eyes. “Obviously.” He sits up and rubs his eyes. “I should sleep.”
Yep. He should. I should too. I jump off the bed and hurry over to my pile of damp clothes. It’s disgusting to put them back on, but at least it’s only for the short walk back to my own room. “Right,” I say, once I’m dressed. “So…”
“Yes.” Marlon’s voice is quiet and I don’t look at him.Can’tlook at him.
I hesitate for another heartbeat, then I check through the spyhole in the door that there’s no-one outside and leave.Obviously this can’t happen again, I repeat to myself and trynot to struggle with the thought that I will never get to hold him again.
CHAPTER 6
Freddie
MAY
My shirt is half undone,sleeves rolled up, tie long since discarded. Giddiness warms me almost as much as the alcohol does, and then of course there’s Marlon, arm looped over my shoulder, in a similar state of disarray. His closeness does nothing to stop the heat inside me.
There’s a first for everything, and this is our first time winning the league. Some of our team mates have done it a half-dozen times already, and they laugh at our antics because they remember what it's like. We may have missed out on the cup and the European title, but this—this is real. We’re bloody champions of the bloody league, in our first ever season with the first team. If that’s not reason to celebrate, I don’t know what is.
I’ve never seen Marlon let loose like this, either, and the sight of it is almost as intoxicating as the round of shots the gaffer got for everyone. Usually, Mar is controlled and deliberate, almost uptight, aware of everything around him. Now, he has a bowler hat in Westfield colours perched topsy-turvy on his head, the open buttons of his shirt showing off the smooth, slightly sweaty skin of his neck and chest, and he’s touching me.
Like he’s been touching me all night.
They’ve all noticed, but nobody frowns upon it. They laugh at us, young and dumb rookies who can’t comprehend what their lives have become. We’ve come up through the ranks together, so of course I licked the salt for my last tequila shot off of Marlon’s pec. We’re the youngest players on the team, so of course when Marlon did a terrible rendition ofRule The Worldon the karaoke machine, he kept pointing and winking at me.
Footballers are a bunch of very straight men who love to get very cuddly with each other, and that plus the many, many shots provide the perfect cover for us to get close. As cloudy as my head is, I’m very aware of Marlon and how close he is.
He now grabs my hand and pulls me out of the club’s sweaty hot main room and I’m glad—stupidly glad—that he’s here. That he decided to get us out of there.
The urge to touch him in ways teammates don’t usually do has been getting stronger and stronger. I need a break. Or a place where no-one can see us, at least.
