Playing Offside by Jax Calder

1

Aiden

The cocky asshole was at it again.

I tried to keep my breathing even as I sat on my couch and watched on my phone the news clip that my teammate Zach had sent me.

The reporter had ambushed Bannings after training, when his face was flushed, blond hair sticky with sweat. Despite that, he still looked like a Hollywood pretty boy with those deep brown eyes and chiseled cheekbones. He turned on a charming smile the moment the microphone was shoved in his face.

“Are you looking forward to playing the Marauders?”

“Can’t wait.”

“How do you think you’ll go up against Aiden Jones?”

He shrugged, his grin growing wider with an edge of anticipation built in. “You guys in the press have been constantly talking about this matchup. All I can say is he’s called the Ice King, so I guess I’m going to have to bring a blowtorch to the game.”

Fuck. I groaned. As if the press needed more fuel to fire up this supposed rivalry between us. It was already running on napalm. Now he’d just chucked a handful of firecrackers into the flames.

Tyler Bannings was the new hotshot, the kid in his first professional rugby season playing for the Auckland Greens who’d somehow managed to catch all the other teams by surprise. When he’d run rampant over the Clansmen in his first game, everyone had assumed it was a fluke. But when he’d proceeded to take apart the experienced defenses of the Warriors, Cyclones, and Cougars, commentators and the public had sat up to take notice.

The problem was, he wasn’t playing the game of the humble kid who couldn’t quite believe he was managing to hold his own against the heroes he’d grown up watching. Instead, he was all smug grins and cocky arrogance. He knew exactly how good he was.

My phone beeped with a message from Zach.

Did you watch it?

Yep. He can deliver a good soundbite; I’ll give him that.

My phone beeped again three times in quick succession.

You need to show the pup who’s the top dog.

Show the young ‘un there’s only one silverback.

Show the cub who’s the head of the pride.

I typed quickly. Okay, stop with the animal metaphors before you hurt yourself.

Watching all those nature documentaries with Jess has got to come in handy somewhere.

I grinned. Zach’s fiancée Jess was a biology teacher, so I had no doubt his TV experience contained more of the Discovery Channel and David Attenborough’s accent than was strictly healthy.

I tapped out my reply. I’ll do my best to remind Tyler Bannings I won my first World Cup before his balls even dropped.

After I sent the message, I watched the clip of Tyler again, trying to work out why I had a weird, unsettled feeling in my stomach as he trash-talked me.

I’d watched all his matches, and even I could begrudgingly admit the kid had game. He was looking like a bolter for the New Zealand squad if he kept up this form. Which meant not only would I have to cope with playing against him in the Supreme Rugby competition—I’d also soon have him as a teammate in the national team, breathing down my neck for my starter spot.

Something to look forward to.

I cruised through social media. Fuck. Tyler’s little gem hadn’t escaped notice. There were so many melting metaphors circulating amongst the Greens fans, you’d think the extremes of global warming had already arrived. Someone with far too much spare time had even mocked up a picture of Tyler holding a blowtorch to my head. Everyone was speculating whether his flashy, unpredictable play would finally be my downfall.

That’s the problem when you make it to the top. There was only one direction to go.

But fuck, I’d worked my ass off, sacrificed so much to get here. There was no way some cocky smug upstart was going to get the best of me.

I grabbed my phone and loaded up the prep tape Dean Clark, my coach at the Marauders, had sent me. It was full of clips from the last few games where Tyler had stampeded over the opposition. I’d already watched it multiple times.

I pressed play and leaned forward, elbows on my knees. Time to watch it again, work out if there was anything about his play that I’d missed.

Because tomorrow night, I was going to educate the kid about exactly whose turf he was on.