More Than the Ball (9 page)

“Ah,” Kelly said again. “And now we get to the heart of the matter.”

“Do we, though?”

Kelly sighed and stood to clear our lasagne dishes and carry an enormous cake box over to the island. “Baby, even when we were together, I knew you still had a thing for Elliot. And why not? It sounds like the two of you were great together.”

“We were never together,” I protested.

“Semantics. You just weren’t fucking him.”

I paused to consider this. For as often as I’d thought of Elliot, for as much as I’d missed the way it felt to just be around him, I’d never let myself think that we had been anything other than platonic friends. Platonic friends who liked to cuddle and frequently shared a bed.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“Mm hmm.” Kelly finally opened the cake box and cut us each an enormous slice.

“So... what do I do now?”

“The same thing we all do when we realize we’re in love?”

“What’s that?” I asked. My glass was half empty again, and my cheeks were feeling warm and pleasantly buoyant.

“We sit and we hope and we be as good a friend to them as we can.”

“And if they don’t want to be friends?”

He shrugged over a huge bite of chocolate. “Then we eat cake and get wasted with someone who does.”

I nodded, forking a huge piece of cake into the air as if to say “cheers,” and shoved it into my mouth.

O
kay
, I’m not a hugely famous director with dozens of films under my belt, but I’ve done enough that I shouldn’t still have opening night jitters.

I do, though. I really, really do.

Despite being one of my lower recent budgets for a film, this one meant more to me than any other that I’d done, maybe ever. It didn’t help that I knew Coach would be there, watching the story I’d told about him, seeing himself through my eyes. It was humbling. And it was terrifying. What if the story I told didn’t feel true to him? What if he felt overlooked or underappreciated?

The worst of it was that I was alone.

From my first premier, I’d always had someone with me. If I wasn’t seeing anyone, Kelly would come with me for support. The trouble was, this premier was in Oregon, and Kelly had a concert in LA that night, so when the lights went down and the curtains were drawn back, I was sitting between Victoria from the alumni association and Coach Youseff.

I couldn’t look over at Coach, but I was super aware of his presence as the film began to play, the title scrolling up the screen: More than the Ball. As the room settled to a hush, Coach’s calm, thoughtful voice rang out saying, “In football, the worst blindness is only seeing the ball. Nelson Falcāo Rodriguez.”

From my right, I heard Coach give a satisfied sigh, and then his hand came to rest on my forearm.

After that, the jitters slipped away and it was only pride from then out. Pride for this man who had turned me into a man. Who had known more about me at that time than I had, and who had taught me that being an outsider just meant that you were being underestimated. It meant you had a little more room to change the world. You could get away with bending the rules and creating new things. No one would expect it.

He taught me that you had to stay true to what was at your deepest core. Because if you gave in to society, you’d never discover the incredible strength and creativity inside of you.

He also taught me that it was who you surrounded yourself with that changed you, so chose your teammates wisely. It was difficult to not realize that I had failed in this in my adult life. Jordan was not the choice I wanted to make, or should have made. He was a good kid. But that’s not what I needed to find my core. To find my strength. To deepen my creativity.

I sat through the film completely satisfied by Coach’s smiles. And by the knowledge that even if the way my filming had ended was painful, this felt like the best film I had made to date.

T
he film
, if tonight’s audience could be trusted, had been a raving success. I was swarmed by journalists, alumni, professors, even a few undergraduate film students looking for an autograph and a chance to network. I hardly noticed, though. Coach had been pleased with my work. He’d been happy with how he had been represented. I couldn’t ask for more than that.

At least, I didn’t think I could until I felt a warm, solid hand on my shoulder and turned to see Elliot beaming at me.

“That was amazing, Dev,” he said, and I was drawn into an unexpected but not at all unwelcome hug. “I... god, you’re amazing.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I leaned into the embrace probably more than I should have, but I was three glasses of champagne into the night, and Elliot smelled like oranges and cinnamon. “Thanks,” I whispered, not wanting to be the first to pull away.

In the last few months, I’d forced myself to focus only on finishing the film. It hadn’t been easy. Every former teammate I met up with had wanted to talk to me about Elliot. I’d been constantly bombarded with a reminder of the friendship we no longer had. In truth, I hadn’t spoken to Elliot since that night in London, and I had to confront every disappointed face with a shrug and a, “We didn’t really keep in touch.”

Even when we both sort of pulled back from the hug, Elliot’s hand stayed on my shoulder. “I knew you were good. I mean, I saw your student stuff, but...you’re really good.”

I ducked my head, willing myself to stay perfectly in place so that Elliot had no reason to remove his strong hand. “Thanks,” I said again. “I guess people like it. This was...” I trailed off. I had no words for how important this project had been.

“I get it,” Elliot said, nodding. “But you nailed it, man. I think Coach was crying.”

I laughed. “I know he was. He borrowed a tissue from me.”

Elliot grinned, and I wanted to say something, anything, to recognize the elephant in the room, to acknowledge our last, awkward encounter. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, though. I should have asked about Jemma, but I didn’t want to hear that they were happily living in domestic bliss even now. I did glance around the room a bit, though, looking for her perfect brunette head.

“She’s not here,” Elliot said softly, and I had to laugh. Of course he could tell who I was looking for. Elliot always knew what was on my mind.

“Sorry,” I said, ducking my head again. And then it just came tumbling out. “Sorry for everything. For dinner, for getting drunk on you, for... for kissing you.”

This was one time I really hoped Elliot couldn’t read my mind. I was absolutely not sorry for the kiss. How could I be? It was almost the best memory I had of that trip, right up until the moment Elliot ran away.

He dropped his hand from my shoulder to wave off my apology. “Don’t sweat it, man,” he said, looking so much like he had in college, so at ease with himself that I had to smile.

“Thanks,” I said, and I let myself feel how good it was to see him again, to know that whatever stupid things I’d done, I hadn’t ruined this completely. I still had a chance to be a good friend for him.

“Of course.” He slung an arm over my shoulder and a moment later we were swamped by former teammates.

Not everyone had been able to make it, but it was a testament to Coach’s work that so many of us had made time to be here, to honor his legacy. I felt myself relax as we talked and shared stories of our lives. Some of these guys I hadn’t seen since graduation; some of them, I hadn’t even thought about, but we’d all been brothers once. That’s what Coach had taught us. Our team was our family, and we didn’t let anyone mess with family.

“
S
hh
... we don’t want to get caught.”

“What are they going to do? Expel us?”

I was another champagne into the evening when Elliot had suggested sneaking down to see the locker room, pointing out that it wasn’t fair that I had already been down there and he hadn’t.

“I’m pretty sure President Clifton is still sore about his car on the roof.”

Elliot grinned. “Still the best senior prank.”

Elliot, of course, had been the mastermind behind disassembling the university president’s car and putting it back together on top of the music building.

“Yeah, but if he’s feeling really vindictive, he might call in the campus police on us.”

“Are you kidding?” Elliot asked, his voice echoing in the empty corridors. “Did you see how many donors were upstairs? They should name a field after you for this.”

“I’m not sure that’s how things get named.”

“It should be.”

I wasn’t sure how many drinks Elliot had consumed tonight, but he seemed just about on my level of tipsiness as we finally turned the corner into the locker room. Elliot turned on just one set of lights, casting most of the room in an eerie sort of blueish half-light. He immediately headed to the row of lockers that we’d always used to change.

“Man, I haven’t thought about this place in forever,” he said quietly, his fingers sliding along the metal doors with a calm reverence.

“Yeah, it’s funny how something that is so much a part of you can slip away so easily.”

“You’re drunk, Bandi,” he said with a smile, turning to face me.

“So are you, Gates,” I returned, leaning against what had once been my locker.

Elliot leaned against the locker next to mine, still smiling at me, though there was something wistful in his expression. “I never wanted to let it slip away,” he said, and I wasn’t sure we were still talking about the locker room.

“Neither did I,” I confessed, leaning a bit closer, our shoulders almost touching where they rested against the cool metal. “I still don’t.”

“Neither do I.”

I wanted, so badly, to kiss him, but the memory of his form retreating down the hotel hallway was still too painful, so I stayed right where I was as he closed the distance between us himself and pressed his lips to mine.

I
didn’t know
what possessed me to kiss Dev. I’d been thinking about it all night, sure, but I didn’t think I’d ever have the balls to actually do it. It was so easy, easier than I’d imagined. His lips parted under mine, and I was suddenly pushing him back against the lockers, pressing fully against him.

I felt his intake of breath and heard his gasp. My hips pushed forward against his, and I could feel the hot press of his dick against mine, even through the barrier of our clothes. He made a noise I was sure I would never forget, and it went straight to my cock, making it pulse with desire. My hands settled at his hips, and his moved into my hair, and the kiss became something fierce and desperate.

As my lips moved to his throat, I let my hands fumble to untuck his shirt and tug at his tie, unsure which way to go first. All I knew was that I wanted to feel his skin, press my palm to the hard planes of his stomach and let the heat of it spread through my body.

“El,” he whispered, his head falling back against the locker with a muffled clang. “Elliot... fuck...”

I wasn’t up for any sort of banter, so I answered the only way I could just then, by pressing the palm of my hand against his erection and giving it a slow, firm rub.

Dev made a noise like a whimper that echoed through the room, and I brought my lips back to his like I could taste that sound. My hands came up to cup his face as his moved to my clothes, tugging up my shirt until we could press our stomachs together. Next, he went to work on my pants, pulling them open expertly and sliding a hand inside. His long fingers wrapped around my cock, and I pushed into the grip, remembering again what it had felt like that night, how I’d known as soon as he touched me that I wanted more of this.

I wanted more this time too, and I slid to my knees, my eyes on his face as I hesitantly worked open his trousers. His dark eyes watched me intently, shadowed in the dim light of the locker room.

“You sure?” he asked, his fingers in my hair, stroking along my cheek, cupping my face.

“Yeah,” I answered, my voice rough and low. “Yeah, I want to.”

I had no idea what I was doing, but when I pulled down his boxers and his cock sprung free, I didn’t care that this was brand new to me. I knew Dev wouldn’t care either. My hand curled around the base, and Dev let out a soft moan. There was a drop of pre-cum at the tip, and I wanted so badly to taste it. My eyes stayed locked on his face as I leaned forward, flicking my tongue out to snatch away the wetness.

Dev sucked in a breath, and I wanted nothing more than to see what other sounds I could drag out of him. I had never given a blowjob before, but I’d gotten enough of them to have an idea of what to do.

I slid my tongue up the length of his cock slowly, listening for any noises that might clue me in to what was working and what wasn’t. It seemed to me like everything was working. When my lips finally closed around the tip, Dev let out a low string of curses.

Encouraged, I began to suck, gently at first and then more firmly, letting up only to slide my mouth down his shaft a bit. I couldn’t take much into my mouth before I felt like I was choking, but Dev stroked his fingers through my hair and whispered, “Fuck, El... that’s perfect.”

And it was. There was something about the weight of his cock in my mouth, the hard, thick heft of it, that was driving me crazy. My free hand slid down to my own crotch, palming my aching dick as Dev’s pulsed against my tongue.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Fuck, yeah. Touch yourself. Stroke your dick while you suck my cock. God, El... you’re so fucking hot like this. Been thinking about this for years.”

I knew he was just babbling, just saying whatever came to his mind as he got closer and closer to coming, but there was something about the idea of Dev, lying in bed, dick in hand, thinking about me on my knees, sucking him off, that was just too much for me. I sucked hard on his cock, my cheeks hollowing, and the hand on my dick squeezing before I shoved my pants down, wrapping my fingers around my erection and stroking fast and firm.

“Jesus, Elliot,” Dev gasped, his fingers twisting in my hair, encouraging me to take him deeper. I did my best, wanting to make this as good as possible for him, knowing he was probably used to much more talented cocksuckers than I was. “Just... just... fuck... Fucking Christ!”

He tugged at my hair in warning, but I only managed to pull back a little before he was coming, the salty, bitter taste of his cum bursting on my tongue as my balls drew up and I followed him in climax.

I swallowed, more because I didn’t know what else to do than because I was even thinking about it. Dev’s fingers stayed in my hair, running slowly through it as I rested my forehead against his hip.

I would have been content to stay like that for hours, but just as I tilted my head up to look at Dev, I heard a voice echoing down the hallway.

“Fuck, man. It’s exactly the same.”

“I know, right?”

I recognized the voices: Jeffries and Peterson, both teammates.

A shock of fear jolted through me, and I was on my feet in seconds, hastily tucking my cock away and rushing through buttoning my shirt and getting myself into some kind of order.

“Elliot,” Dev said softly. “It’s okay.”

“Shit,” I muttered, as quietly as I could manage. “Get dressed, man!”

Dev gave me a look that almost seemed disappointed, but he quickly put himself back together. I just had time to wipe my mouth before Jeffries came around the corner.

“Thought I’d find you two down here,” he said with a grin. “You’re missing your own party, Bandi.”

“It’s more Coach’s party than mine, really,” Dev said, his voice perfectly even, a slight flush in his cheeks the only sign that he’d just come in my mouth. I could only hope I looked as calm.

“We should still get back up there,” I said, shrugging as nonchalantly as I could manage.

“Sure, yeah,” Dev said. He put a hand on my shoulder as I turned to go, and I shrugged it off. I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see what was on his face as I moved away from his touch.

I’d disappointed us both enough for one night.

A
s people started
to trickle out, Dev and I ran into each other at the little student run coat check. We both got our coats and then stepped to the side. I put mine on and watched Dev put his own on. It was impossible for me to not see how his shirt hugged his perfect torso. All I wanted was to put my hands all over him again, to drag him into the coat room and shove him against a wall behind the rack of rich donors’ too-expensive jackets.

But I couldn’t do it.

The world is getting better. Things are getting better, slowly, all over. Dev was out and proud and successful, and there were places in the world where you could do that.

Premier League Football was not one of those places.

Sports stars all over the world were coming out and being embraced for it. Not in my game, though.

The message was very clear: English football has no place in it for gay men.

I couldn’t lose my career. Soccer had been there through everything in my life. I couldn’t even remember a time without it. I wasn’t really sure who I
was
without it. And even though I knew it wasn’t fulfilling, I knew what a life without Dev looked like. It wasn’t what I wanted, but at least I knew I could survive it.

“Listen, Dev,” I mumbled slowly, not even able to look him in the face. “I... I just don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry. I can’t.” I looked up to see his eyes widening, and I quickly forced my unwilling body to turn and walk away.