The game against Penrith on Saturday was messy but we managed to hold the win. Barely. We made the long trip back to our pub for drinks, but it was quiet, no one really in the mood to celebrate.
I had somewhere else to be, anyway.
Apparently Lane Cove had smashed Warringah, and Valentine was in a good mood when I got to his place at nine.
He ordered Japanese food and we drank a few cans of Asahi while I made him watch The Expendables on Netflix. It was a very boyfriend-ish thing to do, and while I was too scared to ask if that’s what we were, it felt right.
I’d told him I basically loved him on Wednesday when he’d had his big meltdown. If you don’t want me to love you, tell me right now.
That’s what I’d said.
He hadn’t voiced any great declarations in return, but his entire spiral was because he felt things he’d tried to ignore.
And he could deny it till he was blue in the face, but I knew he loved me.
Valentine didn’t have a lot of love in his life, and he said he wasn’t sure what it even meant. But the way he looked at me, the way he smiled at me.
It was love.
And how he’d cleared away dinner, then curled up against me, my arm slung over his shoulder as we watched the rest of the movie. The way he took my hand and led me to bed, the way he kissed me, the way we made love, and the way he fell asleep in my arms afterwards.
This was love.
I knew we’d have challenges and bridges to cross. I knew it wouldn’t always be easy. When it was just us? Easy as breathing. When we factored in the outside world, how our friends and families might react?
Not so much.
I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.
Because on Wednesday night he came over to my place. I’d been to the supermarket for ingredients for him to cook because we certainly couldn’t go to the supermarket together.
Like we couldn’t go out for breakfast on his birthday.
Because we couldn’t be seen together.
Because he wasn’t out, and we were supposed to hate each other. Because he was also technically my boss.
There was no way we could explain it without incriminating us, without exposing us both. And it was fine. I had no problem with keeping us on the down-low. It was safer that way. It was more private and personal, and I kinda liked that.
Until we were in my kitchen, and he was gagging trying to touch the raw fish and I was laughing at him . . .
And there was a knock on my door.
We both stopped and stared at each other, silent. My heart was thumping against my ribs and Valentine paled.
Fuck.
Another quick knock and a familiar voice. “Marshall? It’s just me.”
My mum.
I almost told him to go wait in my room, but that felt a stretch too far. I didn’t want to hide him. He shouldn’t have to hide like we were doing something wrong.
“Stay here,” I whispered, my hand on his arm. The kitchen was hidden from the front door. He’d be fine. “She won’t come in here.”
I went to the door, wiping my hands on a tea towel, and opened it. “Mum,” I said. “What are you doing here?” I hadn’t meant it to sound rude, but a little notice would have been nice.
She was holding a tray of eggs. Of all the fucking things. “I went into Mrs Younis’ shop for fresh eggs like you said. She wanted me to give you these, and I was just on my way home,” she said, looking past my shoulder. “I thought I heard you laugh.”
I almost told her it was the TV, but the damn thing wasn’t on. “Oh, I, uh . . . um.”
She zipped past me. “I’ll just put these in the kitchen—”
“Mum, wait!”
She stopped in the entryway, seeing Valentine. “Oh.” Then she shot me a bewildered look. “You have company.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I do . . . I, uh . . . Mum, now’s not a good time. I’ll explain later . . .”
Valentine was standing there in the kitchen, awkward as I’d ever seen him. He was still a shade pale and was gripping the kitchen counter, looking about ready to run. Or puke.
“Hello, dear,” Mum said, making a face. This wasn’t good. She handed me the eggs and did a half-wave thing that was weird and just as awkward. “I’m Penny. Marshall’s mum.”
Fucking fuck.
I had to introduce them. I didn’t expect Mum to recognise him. She wouldn’t have seen him for almost twenty years . . .
“Ah, Mum, this is Valentine.” My mouth was so dry I couldn’t even swallow. “Valentine Tye.”
Mum’s eyes cut to mine, wide with surprise, and I didn’t miss how Valentine steeled himself. “Oh,” Mum managed.
“Nice to meet you,” Valentine said, his voice tight.
Mum seemed to collect herself. “Yes, nice to meet you too, dear. I didn’t recognise you after all this time.” Her eyes drew down to his shirt. The white button-down shirt with the buttons with red thread. She looked at me, realising that we’d sewn those damn buttons on weeks ago.
And I’d never said anything.
I put the stupid eggs on the counter and stepped in closer to Valentine, almost shielding him from view. He needed to know he had my support, that I was on his side. “Mum,” I said. “Valentine and I are . . .”
Well, shit. I didn’t really know what we were.
I raised my chin and put my arm around his waist. “We’re kinda together, but it’s complicated, and I’m sure you understand why I never said anything. It’s . . . well, it’s . . .”
“Me. I’m the reason,” Valentine whispered. “I’m not . . . I can’t . . .”
“It’s for both of us,” I added, not wanting Valentine to have to shoulder this on his own. I pulled him a little closer and looked him right in the eye. “It’s not just you, Valentine.”
Christ, he looked miserable and scared as hell.
Thankfully, Mum seemed to clue in. “It’s okay,” she said with a sad smile. “It’s not anyone else’s business. And I should have called first but I was driving, and you know I can’t use that Bluetooth thing. I’m sorry for just turning up. I should get going or your father will worry.”
I cringed. “Yeah, uh. I dunno about Dad—”
“I’ll take care of your father,” she said, giving me that don’t-argue-with-your-mother look. “He’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t sure about that.
“I’ll let you get back to your evening,” she said. Then she studied Valentine for a beat. “You okay, love?”
He blinked a few times. “I’m really sorry.”
She put her hand on his forearm. “You have nothing to apologise for. I’m sorry for interrupting your night. You make sure Marshall looks after you, okay? And you let me know if he doesn’t.”
That was clearly an attempt to lighten the mood and maybe even get Valentine to smile. It worked, kind of.
He nodded. “I will.”
Her eyes met mine, wide and apologetic, before she went to the door. I followed her, seeing her out. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He wasn’t ready.”
“No one can know,” I replied quietly. “He’s not out. You can’t tell anyone. Dad—I don’t expect you to keep this from him, but he won’t understand.”
“He doesn’t have to,” she said. “He just wants you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Mum.”
She nodded, a little teary. “I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell us.”
“Me too.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” she said. Then she spoke loud enough for Valentine to hear, telling us both, “But I’ll call before I just turn up next time. I promise. Have a good night, boys.”
She left and I closed the door, not sure how this night would now end. Like my mum had said, he wasn’t ready.
I walked straight up to him and collected him in for a crushing hug. At least he couldn’t make a run for it if I was holding him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know she’d just turn up. I mean, she just turns up sometimes. But she won’t tell anyone. She understands that all too well.”
His hands were at my sides, fisting my shirt. “I’m sorry too,” he mumbled.
I pulled back and took his face in my hands. “You have nothing to apologise for.”
He looked so fucking sad. “Your dad’s gonna hate me.”
“No he won’t. He’ll be surprised, let’s put it that way. But you’re not your father, and he’ll see that. He’ll get to know you, and . . . he’ll see how much I love you and then he can’t say shit.”
Valentine’s eyes went wide and I realised what I’d just said.
Well, it was out there now.
“You . . .” He began to smile and cry at the same time. “You said . . .”
I pulled him back in for another hug, mostly so he couldn’t see my oh-shit face. “I said it, and you know what? I’m not sorry. And it’s your fucking fault. You made me fall in love with you with the whole I-want-you-to-come-inside-me thing. Like what was I supposed to do? Not fall in love with you?”
He barked out a snotty laugh. “Oh my god.”
I wasn’t letting him go because I didn’t want to own up to anything I’d just said, but he pulled back. His arms were around my waist, his eyes met mine. “Marshall,” he whispered as if he was out of breath.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, and I don’t expect you to say it back to me. But you should know.” I knew my face was red, but whatever . . . “You should know how I feel. You deserve to know.”
“And you do too,” he whispered. “I’ve never loved anything or anyone, and it scares the hell out of me but—” He shook his head. His voice was just a breath. “I love you too.”
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
I was smiling like an idiot and kissed him. “Was it because I came inside you? It was, wasn’t it?”
He burst out laughing. “Pretty sure it was, yeah.”
“I knew it.”
His smile faded. “I’m going to fuck it up, I know I will. I just ask that you try and be patient with me. I’m sorry your mum found out like this. I was hiding in your kitchen, for god’s sake. I’m sorry you had to keep this a secret from your parents.”
I put my hand to his jaw. “You know what? I’m glad she knows. And she’ll tell my dad and then we’ll have to do Sunday dinners with them, and it’ll be embarrassing and awesome. And I’m glad Lleyton and Taka know, and your sister knows . . . Well, she knows you’re gay, and that’s amazing because now the most important people in our lives know. The rest don’t matter. I don’t care about anyone else. We can just be us now, without worrying about people finding out.”
He inhaled deeply and nodded into my palm. “Besides the whole work thing.”
I conceded a nod. “Well, yeah. There’s that.”
“And our rugby teammates.”
I snorted. “Could you imagine the look on their faces?”
“When they find out I’m gay? Or when my team knocks your team off the top of the ladder?”
That made me laugh. “You wish. And god, no. They’ll just bypass the whole gay thing when they find out who your boyfriend is.”
He froze, his eyes meeting mine. He blew out a breath and shook his head, fighting a smile. “Christ. It’s a night for big announcements, isn’t it?”
I snorted. “Apparently.”
“Maybe we could forgo the cooking tonight and just skip right ahead to the wine and fucking.”
Laughing, I turned him around to face the fish, my hands on his hips, my chin on his shoulder. I let out a long breath and kissed the top of his shoulder. “Nice try. Food first. Then wine and fucking.”
I was pumped for the game on Saturday. Valentine had been smug about how Lane Cove was going to thrash us and knock us off the top of the ladder.
I couldn’t wait to see them try.
It was going to be a hard game. They were in fine form while we’d barely managed to scrape together our last win. But we were undefeated, and they’d only ever lost to us.
“We’re going to rectify that today,” Valentine had said before he kissed me goodbye this morning. Then he looked me right in the eye and smirked. “I’m taking you down.”
That smugness, that arrogance. My god, I used to hate it.
Now I saw it as a challenge.
“You gonna be cool today?” Taka asked me. We were in the dressing sheds, warming up before taking the field. We were T-minus two minutes until kick off and my pregame nerves were bordering on nausea.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I bounced on my toes a few times and shook out my hands. “But we gotta get the W today. He’ll never let me forget it if we don’t.”
Taka laughed and wet his mouthguard before putting it in. “Good luck with that.”
We took the field, running out to where Lane Cove were already waiting. They had the home field advantage, and the full crowd was a mix of cheers and boos. I blocked that shit out and focused on one thing.
Valentine Tye.
I hated that he looked so fucking hot in his rugby gear. He grinned around his mouthguard at me, and I grinned right fucking back.
He was wearing headgear and I knew it was to avoid another serious knock like before. But rest assured, no one was getting near him today.
If anyone was taking him down, it was me.
“You’re going down, Tye,” I yelled out.
“You fucking wish, Wise,” he yelled back.
Lleyton’s eyes almost bugged out of his head and Taka laughed behind me. The referee told us to behave right before he blew the whistle. They kicked off and it was game on.
We got the ball and they held their line, defence tight. They hit hard and my first touch of the ball, I fumbled it.
Like that wasn’t bad enough, but someone laughed.
I got to my feet, fist closed, ready to get my fight on, only to see it was Valentine.
Would I have swung at him?
Undecided.
Taka pulled me back by my jersey. “You don’t wanna do that,” he said, shoving me back into my line.
But a few sets later, when Valentine made a run for touch, I got a clean tackle on him, smearing him into the ground with an oomph. I laughed for the spite of it and tapped his headgear. “Who’s laughing now?”
One of his team pulled me off him none too gently, and the referee was soon between us, telling us to cool it.
But I hadn’t had this much fun playing rugby in years.
Then they scored and it made me focus. Head back in the game, dignity on the line.
I made a break pass, feeding Taka a sweet ball and he steam-trained across the line.
We went into half-time tied on seven–all. We knew it was gonna be a tough match, and they weren’t giving us a second to let us catch our breath.
Two minutes into the second half, Simons got a tackle on Valentine. It was fair, a good tackle even, but it rankled something in me. I pulled Simons off him, earning me a “What the fuck, Wise?” from someone in my team, but I just pointed to our defence.
“Hold the fucking line,” I bit out.
Valentine got to his feet and grinned at me, and it spurred me on even more. And the next time I got my hands on the ball, I tucked it under my arm and ran like a man possessed.
I could hit harder, I could bulldoze harder, I could dig in harder and hold a whole fucking scrum.
But he was faster than me.
He took me out across the sideline. We slid on the grass, the try line just a few feet away, and he got pulled to his feet by his team with cheers and slaps on the back. I got to my feet and wanted to kill him.
By some grace of fucking god, we managed to score on the next set. But then with five minutes left on the clock, hit up after hit up, they went across the line again.
Thank fuck they missed the kick for goal, the whistle blew, and we’d somehow managed to hold our title of undefeated.
Barely.
It meant we’d have next week off getting a walkthrough to the final, while Lane Cove played again for their spot against us for the shield.
It also meant we’d be heading back to their pub for after match drinks. As usual, their team hung out in one corner, my team hung out in the other, rarely intermingling. Sometimes meeting at the bar or passing through to the restrooms.
Like it always was.
I kept my back to Valentine like I always did so I didn’t stare at him and get caught smiling like a lovesick schoolboy with hearts in my eyes.
Until I caught Taka smiling at someone behind me.
“Good game,” Valentine said.
I turned then, smiling, because I was a total goner. “Thanks.”
“I was talking to Taka,” he said casually. “Though the way you fumbled the ball was outstanding.”
I had to take a deep breath and try counting to ten while also trying not to laugh and not strangle him. Or kiss him. I put my drink on the bar and stepped in closer, still trying to decide. “Is that right?”
“Ah, jeez,” Taka said quietly. “Got yourselves an audience, fellas.”
Valentine laughed, found my gaze, and held it. He was baiting me, goading me. But then he clapped Taka’s arm. “Good win.” Then he threw a fifty on the bar and ordered some drinks for his table.
I had to make myself take some deep breaths, and when I looked around, both our teams were watching us like they were holding their breaths. Waiting for a fight to start, waiting to jump in.
Valentine was going to get it when we got back to his place, and I knew without doubt that’s what he was doing. He was trying to piss me off enough so that when I walked into his place at nine o’clock, I’d make him pay. I’d be rough and ready. Unforgiving.
And I would. I’d give him exactly what he wanted, exactly how he wanted it.
He was such a whore.
He was my whore.
I snatched up my bottle and took a swig, turning my back on Valentine and lasering my gaze on the far wall instead.
“You okay, bro?” Taka asked me quietly.
“Oh, yeah. Him goading me like that? It’s like foreplay.”
Taka almost choked on his beer. “And you both trying to flatten each other in the game today?”
I nodded. “Yep. Foreplay.”
He laughed. “Bro, that is fucked up.”
If only he knew. “You have no idea.”
Then someone bumped into me from behind, kinda hard, kinda deliberate, knocking me into the bar. I thought it might have been someone looking for a fight, so I turned around, ready to go.
It was some random guy who was quite drunk. And familiar. Maybe I’d fucked him once . . .
He smiled and fell into me. “Oh, hey there, stranger,” he purred. And slurred.
I tried to set him on his feet. “Yeah, okay, steady as she goes, sailor. You got wobbly boots on.”
He laughed and tried to fall against me again. “Wanna take ’em off for me?”
I pushed him back to arm’s length. “No. I don’t.”
He lifted his finger, to do what, I had no clue. “You played so well today.”
Then, appearing outta thin air, Valentine was there. He stood at the bar, closer to me than he probably should have been, and he glared at Wobbly Boots McDesperate. His gaze was cold, his voice like ice. “He said no.”
Oh boy. Holy shit.
Some of his team were watching.
I tried to whisper as inconspicuously as I could. “What are you doing?”
Valentine put his hand to his forehead and looked away. “I don’t know.”
“You okay?”
Valentine shook his head just as the dumbest drunk guy on the planet decided to pipe up. “Dunno what your problem—”
Valentine turned to him and got in his face, smooth and lethal. “My problem is you.”
Aaaand then half of Valentine’s team were on their feet—glaring at me because most of them hated me and I happened to be near Valentine when he was about to get his fight on—which was hot as fuck, by the way—and their reaction towards me made half my team take notice.
I put my hands up because I was just a bystander in this. “I didn’t do anything!”
Which of course made Valentine spin to face me, shooting daggers of ice from his eyes.
It was kinda hot.
Taka laughed until Valentine’s glare landed on him. He straightened up. “Yeah, okay. You’re on your own with that one.” He clapped my shoulder and sidestepped away.
Connor and Paul, two of Valentine’s teammates who I knew didn’t like me, came to stand beside him.
“What’s your fucking problem, Wise?” Connor said. He was the guy Valentine once said wanted to fight me, the reason Valentine shoved me into the toilet cubical that time all those weeks ago.
Dunno what I ever did to piss him off. Was probably just better than him at something.
“I don’t have a problem,” I replied. “Yet.”
“You know what I reckon?” Paul added. “I think we might need to take this outside.”
I laughed. For two reasons: one, because they thought they could fight me. And two, just to piss them off. “You wanna lose twice in one day?”
Connor bristled and tried to puff himself up like a fucking pigeon.
Then Valentine stood in between us, facing me. His eyes were wide and wild. Was he on my side? Or was he on theirs?
“What are you doing?” I asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” he breathed. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He put his hand to his forehead, his fingers shaking.
Ah, jeez.
I’d seen this before. Right before he got too overwhelmed and freaked the fuck out.
I grabbed his wrist to pull him to the door. He needed fresh air. The cold fresh air would do him a world of good. But apparently grabbing Valentine’s wrist wasn’t the right thing to do because Paul grabbed my arm.
“Let him go,” he said, trying to shove me backwards.
I almost lost my footing and Valentine pulled his arm free, and while Connor and Paul were trying to get to me, I was trying to get to Valentine. “Get the fuck off me,” I said, shoving Connor as Paul grabbed my collar.
“Let him go,” Valentine yelled, then he was in front of me, his hand on Paul’s wrist, his knuckles white. “I said let him go.”
“What the fuck?” Paul cried, pulling himself free. “Whose fucking side are you on?”
Then Taka was in the middle of it all with his huge arms out. “Okay, fellas, cool it, yeah?”
Valentine’s hands were still shaking, he took a step back, and he gasped for breath. “Can’t . . . I can’t . . .” Everyone was staring at him. His eyes met mine. “Marshall. Marshall . . .”
I fought free and grabbed him and all but carried him outside, Lleyton right behind us. I burst through the front doors, got him into the cold air, and put my hands to his face, making him look into my eyes. “Breathe, okay. Just breathe.” I took deep breaths with him. “Nice and deep.”
Valentine blinked a few times, but he managed a lungful of air and then another, keeping in time with me until he nodded and sagged. I pulled him against me and he came without protest.
“What was that?” Lleyton asked.
“He just has trouble catching his breath sometimes,” I answered. I was a little surprised that he didn’t know about Valentine’s anxiety, but then again, the fact Valentine hadn’t even told his closest friend didn’t surprise me at all. I kept my hand on the back of Valentine’s head, his face in the crook of my neck. “You okay?”
He nodded but made no move to pull away. He was heavy, exhausted. Embarrassed. “Sorry.”
I rubbed his back. “Don’t apologise.”
Hearing voices behind me, I turned to see quite a crowd outside. Mostly his team, some of mine, probably wondering if Valentine and I were fighting, shocked to see me with my arms around him.
“Nothing to see here, folks,” Taka said, his voice always so calm and disarming.
Lleyton walked back and both he and Taka kinda shielded us.
“You’re okay,” I murmured. “Wanna go home?”
He nodded against me, still breathing heavy. “I feel so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“That guy was all over you.”
Which one? The first one? Where Valentine intervened?
“He was a dick. I told him no.”
He looked up at me then. “I know you did. I don’t blame you. I just . . . I couldn’t handle seeing him touch you. Anyone touch you. I wanted to stand with you, touch you, and then he thought he could touch you. Like it lit a fire under me or something, and I was in his face before I knew what I was doing, and I know how that looked. I know . . . People will know . . .”
I put my hand to his face. “It’s none of their business.”
“I wanted to tell him. God, I almost came out. I almost did. I almost said it in front of everyone. That you were mine and that guy needed to back the fuck up. And then Connor got in your face, and my god, Marshall, I’ve never had anyone to defend before. No one’s ever been mine. If he punched you, I would have killed him.”
I put my hand to his hair, to his face, unable to keep from smiling. “That’s kinda hot.”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “I can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Hiding. Lying. Lying to my team, lying to myself. Hiding who I am. I don’t want to hide in your kitchen anymore.”
“Oh, babe.”
“I want to come out, Marshall. I need to. For me. I need to stop being such a fucking coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” I said firmly, my forehead to his. “Like I said before, everyone’s story is different. If you want to do it for you, then great. But don’t let yourself feel pressured.”
“I’m sick of hiding. I’m sick of not being me. Not being able to do what I want, be what I want.” He shook his head. “Lleyton knows, and Taka. Brooklyn knows, kind of. Your parents know. And it’s such a fucking relief. I can’t begin to explain . . . I don’t need to explain because you already know. Fuck.”
“No one else matters.”
His eyes searched mine. “Then why should I care if they know?”
“Your father—”
“I don’t care. If he fires me, so be it. Makes my decision about what to do easy. If he disowns me, he’d be doing me a favour.”
Oh, Valentine . . .
His eyes searched mine. “You once said what I’d lose by being true to myself doesn’t matter in the end because I’d gain me. And back then I thought that was stupid.” He shook his head, his eyes glassy. “But I’m worth that, aren’t I? I deserve that, don’t I?”
I could have just about cried. I could barely nod. “Yes.”
“Then fuck everything else.”
I laughed, took his face in my hands, and kissed him.
He laughed, a little teary, and put his forehead to my shoulder. “I feel better already. Even just making the decision. I haven’t even told anyone yet.”
Uh . . .
“Well, about that,” I said, turning his head to the audience we still had out the front of the pub.
“Oh shit.” Valentine stared at them, then at me. He took a small reflexive step back, but then he blinked a few times, then he laughed. “Fuck. Well . . . fuck.”
“Still wanna go home? Or wanna go back in for another beer?”
He looked back at the guys outside, then back at me before he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I’m ready . . .”
“Then we don’t go in there. We’ll go home.” I took his hand and went to lead him to my ute.
He stopped. “Wait.”
I stopped and waited for him to talk.
“If I leave it, it’ll be worse. In my head. I won’t be . . . I won’t be able to face them at training.” He looked back at the pub as if he was sizing up a fight. “If I do it now, it’ll be done. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, and if anyone’s got a problem with it, then at least I’ll know. Before training. Knowing is better than . . . not knowing. I’ll get all up in my head and it’ll be bad, and I want you with me—”
I squeezed his hand. “Hey. I’ll be with you. The whole time. Every second.”
His eyes met mine and he nodded. “Okay.”
“You ready?”
He let out a rush of breath and nodded. “Yes.”
Okay then.
I led him back to the pub, to the crowd, still holding his hand. He was gripping mine so tight I thought he might have been trying to break it, but every breath he let out was long and shaky. He was still trying not to freak out, still oblivious to the courage it took to do what he was doing.
“You all good, bro?” Taka asked me. Ignoring everyone else, ignoring the silence.
“All good.”
He held the doors open. “Good. Then get your arse inside. It’s cold out here and it’s your shout.”
Leave it to Taka to break the ice. There was a reason why everyone loved him. But inside we went. Everyone stopped and stared as we made our way to the bar, and I swear you could have heard a pin drop.
Valentine still held my hand.
Now, no one in their right mind would have dared say anything. We had Taka in front of us, Lleyton behind us. And I’d have flattened anyone who dared say shit to Valentine.
So I was surprised when Connor was the first to come up to us. I hoped he had dental in his private health insurance because he was about to fucking need it.
He didn’t look at me, but he gave a weird smirk to Valentine. “Really?” he asked. “Out of all the guys, you picked the enemy?”
Now, I still wasn’t sure if this was an olive branch or a stick of dynamite. My instinct was to go with the latter, defend Valentine and take Connor’s head off. But I knew my reaction had to depend on Valentine’s. He had to take the lead here, and I didn’t want to make things worse.
Valentine raised his chin, his eyes darted to mine, and eventually he smiled. “He’s actually not that bad.” His grip on my hand could be measured in PSI, but he sighed unsteadily with a shrug. “I mean, enemy’s a strong word.”
Connor smiled and there was some silent agreement between them, and just like that, it was done. Valentine relaxed immediately and let out a deep, shaky breath, and after a second, Connor pointed his stare at me. “This doesn’t mean I have to like you or anything, does it?”
I snorted. “Fuck no. I don’t have to like you either.”
He smiled. “Good.” He took a swig and shook his head. “Gotta say, Valentine. You have terrible fucking taste.”
Valentine laughed and leaned into me a little. “I know.”
Then Connor must have realised . . . “So, about the grand final? What happens—”
“When we flog you?” I asked, slinging my arm around Valentine’s shoulder. “When we go through the whole season undefeated?”
Valentine’s eyes met mine, though his cheeks were pink, he was smiling. Genuinely, truly happy. “You fucking wish.”
My entire team went to Lane Cove’s next game, and like a dutiful boyfriend, I cheered from the stands. He played really well, and I was so proud of him my chest hurt. Also no one hurt him, so I didn’t have to kill anyone.
Always a good thing.
They won, of course, and it meant I’d be facing Valentine in the grand final. We always knew it would come down to this. And I might have spent the week spruiking off and being a smartarse about how we were gonna win, win, win.
Rival against rival. Boyfriends off the field, enemies on the field, right down to the final whistle.
Except my whole team played like a busted arse, me leading the parade. Like we’d never held a rugby ball before. The one time I managed to make a break for the line, Valentine drove me into the ground and I lost the ball. He got up, patted my back, and laughed.
I would have been fucking livid if he wasn’t so damn happy.
We lost, and lost spectacularly.
The scoreboard was humiliating. Nowhere near how humiliating going back to their pub for post-game defeat celebrations was going to be. And after my cockiness and big fat mouth for the last two weeks, I was going to deserve every single bit of it.
We walked into their bar, limping and wounded, to rounds of applause and jeers. Valentine’s grin was breathtaking, his eyes only on me.
I fucking hated that I loved him.
He handed me a beer with a laugh. “You played terribly.”
I ignored the bursts of laughter around us. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Valentine laughed so hard he snorted. “This is gonna be so much fun.”
