Page 61 of The Fly-Half

Peaches

Done!

Peaches

You really do know the way to my heart.

Feeling a tiny bit smug that I’d managed to get Peaches on side, I stretched out again and then heaved myself off the sofa. I had no plans for the rest of the evening except eating, watching TV, and soaking myself in the bath with one of the bath bombs I’d treated myself to. I needed to look at ordering a few moreChristmas presents too, but I had no idea what to get Jonny that wasn’t just myself tied up in ribbon.

Although… maybe that could work.

Someone had to make good ribbon cuffs and maybe some cute silk underwear with a bow on it. I’d get him something else too, but Jonny loved playing with me and I’d make the perfect Christmas toy. And it would be easy for us to come back here and indulge in private.

I had no idea how long Jonny, Mason, and Ryan’s lease on the house was, but maybe in the new year it would be worth talking about. I was sure Mason and Ryan would like their privacy, and I’d love to have Jonny to myself. The only issue was how new Ryan and Mason’s relationship was, at least in relative terms, but they’d been roommates for a while, so maybe it wouldn’t be such a hurdle since they were already used to living together. And with Mason’s wage, it wasn’t like they’d have to move into somewhere tiny.

Jonny and I would definitely need to look for somewhere new since my flat was small, but I had a rolling contract, so I wasn’t tied to anything.

I knew I was putting the cart before the horse, and we had a lot of things to work out before we actually got to that stage, but I’d been dreaming about a relationship with him for so long that I couldn’t stop my brain from running away with things.

I just had to hope that everything would work out the way I’d always wanted.

My phone flashed on the kitchen counter where I’d put it to start getting things out of the fridge.

Jonny

We’re totally fucked. Ryan mentioned something about karaoke—apparently Mason told him they were all singing Cher in the dressing room, and now he wants us all to try Mariah Carey?! FFS.

Jonny

Also, how do you feel about joining our game of Dungeons & Dragons?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jonny

I paced upand down the corridor outside the office on the second floor of the training centre, waiting for my watch to hit two. Nerves bubbled in my stomach and I wondered whether taking Clive up on his offer to talk to a sports psychologist about everything that had been going on recently had been the wrong decision.

I’d talked to plenty of sports psychologists before—it was pretty much part and parcel of being a player—but I’d never really talked about anything so personal with one, and I was worried they were going to turn round and tell me being in a relationship with my teammate was the problem and the only way to get over my jealousy was to break up with Devon.

If they said that, my life would be over.

The door in front of me swung open, revealing a hulking man who had to be at least my height or taller and twice as wide with a bald head and skin covered in faded tattoos, which contrasted wildly with the dark green knitted jumper he waswearing with the sleeves rolled up. “Jonny?” he asked in a rough but surprisingly gentle voice with a warm Geordie accent.

“Yeah.”

He nodded and smiled as he stepped back. “You might as well come in. I can hear you pacing.”

“Thanks,” I said, ducking past him and into the office, which was set up for sessions like this with a variety of large comfortable chairs and a sofa, since many of the guys on the team found armchairs a nightmare with their huge thighs. I was always a little worried about getting stuck or breaking something, and more than one of us had a story about cracking flimsy restaurant chairs. The worst one for me, though, had been at my nan’s house and breaking an old wooden chair everyone had insisted I’d be fine on. I’d been fucking mortified when I’d ended up on the floor, but at least Nan had been understanding.

I’d fixed it with a ton of wood glue and never touched it again.

“I’m Wayne,” the guy said as he settled himself on a wide green armchair with no arms, resting one of his ankles on his other knee. He exuded calm and warmth, and a feeling of safety settled over me. He somehow reminded me of my Under Fifteens coach, one of the first people to really believe in me. “How’re you doing? You look a bit nervous.”

“Yeah, a bit,” I said from my seat on the sofa opposite him, my foot tapping as I pulled at my bottom lip.

“Have you done sessions like this before?”

“Yeah, but they’ve only ever focused on my performance as a player and giving me things to help me improve my game.”

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