Page 71 of After the Siren
‘Cunningham!’ He sounded delighted. Yelks flinched next to Theo. Jake smiled, but there were a lot of teeth in it. He clearly fuckinghatedthis journalist.
‘Surprised to see you here, Hunter,’ Jake said. ‘Didn’t think you followed the AFLW.’
Brayden Hunter, Theo remembered. He’d played a few games for the Sharks, then slid into footy media. His dad was the CEO of one of the Perth clubs, he couldn’t remember which one.
‘I do when there’s a story,’ Hunter said. He held the mic to Jake’s face and the camera person stepped in closer. ‘You’ve been pretty active on social media over the last couple of days,’ he said. ‘Anything you want to say to a wider audience?’
‘Yeah, actually,’ Jake said. ‘Though I’m not sure you’ve got a bigger audience than I do, mate.’
There was a note in Jake’s voice Theo remembered from months ago, in their room before Jake had come out to him. Yelks looked like he wanted to yank Jake bodily away from the camera.
‘Go ahead.’ Hunter looked thrilled.
Jake looked straight at the camera. ‘Women and non-binary folks have been playing footy for decades, even though everyone tried to stop them. They’ve played on shit grounds with shit facilities at shit times. They’ve been called names and laughed at and they’ve kept playing because they love the game – love it enough to put up with all of that so they can put their boots on and get out there.’
He took a breath. Theo could feel Yelks basically vibrating with tension beside him.
‘I saw that piss-weak skit,’ Jake continued, ‘and I reckon if you’re a Falcons fan – or a footy fan – and you’re laughing at that shit, or dragging the AFLW while your ass is stuck to the couch, then you can fuck right off.’
Hunter looked like Christmas had come early. Yelks looked like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to wring Jake’s neck or high-five him. Theo knew exactly what he wanted to do to Jake, but he definitely couldn’t do it in front of a camera.
‘Cheers,’ Jake said, grinning at Hunter. ‘Go Falcons.’
Chapter Seventeen
Theo had known Jake was a controversial player. It was impossible to play football and not know that, even if you avoided the footy media. There had been a protracted period a couple of seasons ago when you hadn’t been able to turn on a game without running into a wall of commentary about the way Jake Cunningham played for frees. There had been an actual rule change as a result of Jake’s game.
Knowing it was one thing. Seeing it up close was another. Theo had never witnessed a camera operator chase someone across a car park before. Every pundit had a view. Every fan on social media had a view. Greg had a view. Randy Jones and Davo had a view. The AFLW players had views.
Yelks had stepped in to manage Jones and, as much as he could, the media. Theo had liked Yelks, but he’d developed a new respect for him after seeing the way he handled drama. He soothed ruffled feathers, fixed his earnest green gaze on journos as they asked leading questions, and somehow managed to back Jake up without putting a toe outside the hastily circulated media strategy.
Jake had been sent to Greg to ‘discuss his media presence’. As far as Theo could tell, the meeting seemed to entail Greg using terms liketraditional fanbaseandmoderationwhile Jakedrank a bubble tea. Jake was shrugging it all off – or, to be more accurate, shrugging off journalists and continuing his enthusiasm for the AFLW team on social media – but Theo could tell something was bothering him. He was brazening it out, because that was what Jake did, but there were moments when Theo saw his energy flicker.
‘I did the right thing,’ he’d said to Theo in the silent locker room one evening. They’d each stayed back late for appointments with Jenny and Mick.
‘Yeah,’ Theo had agreed.
Jake tossed his phone into his bag. ‘Imagine if all these people calling me a fag knew the truth.’
Theo winced. ‘Jake —’
Jake shook his head. ‘Let’s not.’
Theo had nodded and left it. He’d followed Jake home and had dinner there, watching Paddy make Jake laugh while Xen cooked them pasta.
Jake had done the right thing in the interview with Hunter, no question. The problem was that Theo had watched that interview more times than he would ever admit. If he’d thought it was hard to be around Jake without being distractedbefore, it was nothing compared tonow.There was the interview, and then there was Jake swaggering across the car park with an AFLW cap on backwards, smirking at importunate journalists. There was the way his face had settled into serious lines for a moment when Tenders had called him a shit-stirrer, and then he’d saidjust sticking up for my mates.It all made Theo want to ... he didn’t even know. Kiss Jake breathless. Beat the shit out of every homophobic asshole on the internet.
A game against the Ogres wasn’t usually rowdy; they were an interstate team without a massive fan base. But today a group of Ogres fans had come to the game holding giant cardboardsnowflakes with Jake’s face pasted into the middle of them. Jake waved to them as the Falcons warmed up.
Jake had spent the whole week leading up to the game crackling with an intensity that had made the hair on the back of Theo’s neck prickle. On top of Jake’s normal pre-game energy, it made the situation feel explosive.
There were other fan-made signs, too, though nothing quite bad enough to get anyone ejected. Jake just pointed them out, laughing, and practised his shots.
Theo tried not to watch him, tried not to think about how Jake’s eyes looked up close, the freckles across the bridge of his nose, the way he’d pushed his sweaty hair out of his face when they’d been in bed.
That became untenable after Jake kicked his third goal of the first half.
Even Theo had to accept that his own kick to set it up had been a beauty – low and perfectly weighted so it thudded straight into Jake’s chest as he ran hard on the lead. The whistle shrilled and the beaten defender said something that made Jake grin.
