Page 7 of There's No Us Without You
“If you say so.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the slight shake of his head before he, too, turns his attention to the screen.
I’m not even sure what’s playing, but anything is better than having Will pry my lies from my mouth. And the reminder of the tackle from tonight’s game has me grinding my back teeth and gripping the bottle in my hand harder than necessary.
We had five minutes left on the clock—winning two to one—when Hayden Smith, the Adelaide Eagles’ best centre back, wentfor a slide tackle on the ball and ended up taking me out with it. I took a boot to the side of the knee and went down like a sack of shit. The moment I jumped up and put weight on my left leg, I knew I’d done some damage. It wasn’t until after the game, when my muscles had cooled down, I realised just how much damage I’d done.
Coach made me see the team physiotherapist. A few pokes and prods later, I was told to ice my knee and if it continues to cause me problems, to come back and see her.
However, there’s no fucking way I’m doing that. We have eight weeks left of the soccer season, and not only are finals a real possibility for us, so is winning.
These finals mean everything to me.
I’ve been working all my life for this very moment. Ask my parents and they’ll tell you I was kicking a soccer ball as soon as I could walk. Once I was old enough, they signed me up to play, and the rest is history. I got selected to play in the A-League Youth competition at seventeen. Six years later, I’m playing for North Sydney Football Club—one of the best clubs in the Australian A-League.
It’s not just my dream. It’s my parents’ as well. Mum reminds me of that every time I see her.
I take a deep breath, urging my heart to slow down. Will is going to see right through me if I don’t get my shit together. He’s been my best friend for ten years now, and I can’t hide much of anything from him.
The last time I tried doing that was back in grade twelve when Wren lost his mum, Deb. I tried so hard to keep my shit together for Wren. For Matilda—Wren’s girlfriend. Fuck, even for Will. Deb was a huge part of Will’s life, so I knew he was suffering just as much as any of us. One night, a couple days after the funeral, I went out, got wasted, and stumbled to Will’s house at three in the morning. I don’t know how, but I managedto climb through his window and into bed with him. He didn’t kick me out, either. Instead, he shuffled over and held me as I broke down. The next morning, he made me promise to never hide anything from him again. And I haven’t...
Until now.
My eyes slowly begin to close, my vision blurring as the weight of tonight’s events comes down hard on me. Maybe I just need a good night’s sleep, and everything will be back to normal tomorrow.
Although, that’s unlikely to happen considering I can’t getherout of my head.
When I walked into the bar earlier tonight, I headed straight for my favourite spot. All I wanted to do was drown my woes in a little whiskey before heading home. In hindsight, that was the worst decision of my life.
At first, I had no intention of talking to her, but as soon as I saw the sadness in those green eyes of hers, words came flying out of my mouth as though I had no control over them.
Just the memory of those eyes and I’m about ready to get back in my car.
Bloody hell.
I’m in trouble. Like bury-me-in-the-fucking-ground kind of trouble. That woman stole a piece of my damn soul, and she didn’t even have to lift a finger.
She’s also the reason it took me so long to get home. I spent the first half an hour walking around the streets to sober up, then the next hour driving around the block, trying to work out whether I should go back in there. Each time I came around again, I’d come up with ten more reasons why it would be the worst idea ever.
The final and most important one, of course, was if Coach found out, he’d skin my dick while I watched, and I like my penis the way it is, thank you very much.
You’d think a debilitating injury would be enough to keep my coach off my back, but I was wrong. While I was getting twisted around like a pretzel after the game, Coach kindly told me if I don’t keep my dick in my pants, he’ll bench me.
Apparently, sleeping around isn’t great for my image. Or the club’s. I’m Captain of the team, for Christ’s sake. It’s also not my fault my dick likes to keep its options open. I’m a sharer. So what? I like sex... and women.
And apparently, now, my grumpy best friend.
What’s wrong with that?
I sink further into the couch and intentionally relax each muscle in my aching body. I’m almost completely out of it when Will shifts in his seat and flicks a bottle cap at me, just narrowly missing my face before it lands on the cushion beside me.
“Jesus.” I snatch the cap from the cushion and throw it back at him. “What the fuck was that for? You could have poked my eye out.”
“That’s a little dramatic,” he says, catching the cap and throwing it onto the coffee table beside my feet. “You’re pissing me off, and I can’t handle the silence. Spill.”
With a groan, I throw my head against the back of the couch and stare at the ceiling. He’s not going to let this go—I know that much.
“Fine,” I say, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. “I met a girl and I’m not allowed to touch her.”
