Playing Offside by Jax Calder
Aiden
My phone pinged as I was standing at my kitchen counter, halfway through making a sandwich. My golden cocker spaniel Beasley was beside me, observing the sandwich-making procedure with great interest. Given the jar of beetroot and tin of sardines on the counter, he probably wondered what the hell kind of concoction I was coming up with.
I’d decided on a whim to come to my cottage and hadn’t bothered to do more than stop at a gas station to grab milk and bread on my way through the nearest town, which meant I was relying on whatever dregs I could find in my pantry and fridge. Because once I was at my cottage, buried deep in rural Canterbury, I didn’t like to leave.
This was my retreat from the world. My safe space. It was a former farm cottage, built sometime back in the 1970s, that colorblind decade where people decided orange and brown were a great combination. Most of the original décor still remained with the Formica counter top and shag carpet. I’d bought the place off a reclusive farmer, and to my knowledge, none of the other locals knew I was a part-time resident in the area.
Beasley’s eyes remained glued to my face as I bit into my sandwich.
“I can see the hope in your look.” I leaned down to pat the silky fur of his ears, and he made a contented grunting sound, leaning into my legs. If only all relationships could be as simple as my relationship with Beasley.
My phone beeped again, reminding me that I had a message to check.
Swallowing the next bite of my sandwich, along with resentment that the real world was intruding on my haven, I reluctantly picked up my phone.
Hey, I’m in town, you guys want to catch up? Tonight, Cruiser bar, eight p.m.
Macca was one of my New Zealand teammates. Even though he played for the Auckland franchise now, he’d grown up on a farm outside Timaru, only a few hours from Christchurch. He, Zach, and I had played age-group rugby against each other back when we were half the size we were now.
I hesitated for a second. Because a boozy night fending off chicks wasn’t exactly my idea of fun. And Christchurch was two hours’ drive from my cottage. It was a long way to go for a night out.
But I’d already vowed to make more of an effort with my teammates this year.
They’d announced the New Zealand squad a week ago. As usual, it had attracted the attention of the whole country, with the endless speculation on sports radio talkback leading up to it.
For the first time in years, I’d been on edge as I waited to hear the full team announced. Not for myself. My inclusion in the squad was a given, and I’d already received the obligatory call from Coach Wilson confirming that I’d been selected.
But I’d been tense to find out who my teammates were.
And that tension had only grown once Coach Wilson got to the one name I was dreading.
Tyler Bannings.
It wasn’t unexpected. The consensus was the selectors would be mad to overlook him after the Supreme Rugby season he’d just had.
I didn’t want to admit, even to myself, that I’d kept closer track of Tyler Bannings than I had any other competing player. I still couldn’t work out why my guts clenched every time I heard his name or saw him being interviewed.
Maybe it was because of the flashes of raw talent I saw in the kid. If he harnessed it right, he could be one of the greats. All of the signs were there.
And while it was good for New Zealand rugby, it might not be so good for me personally. I was on track to pass Josh Latu’s record for the most points scored for a first five. He’d passed 1600 points a month after he turned twenty-nine. With just over a year until I turned twenty-nine, I had a few test matches to score the 120 points I needed to take the record. I didn’t need someone else jostling for my starter spot.
I wasn’t usually a stat chaser, but this was different.
Unbidden, the memory seeped out from the place I’d secured it in my mind.
The TV had been blaring with the sounds of the game, the smell of sausages and onions wafting out from the kitchen. I was snug on the couch cuddled next to Dad, watching as Josh Latu ran over the line, threw the ball in the air, and was engulfed by his teammates in a seething mass of rugby players.
“Why is he so happy?”
“He’s the first person to score more than 1600 points in rugby.”
“I’ll score that when I’m even younger,” I’d vowed with the arrogance of an eight-year-old who knew absolutely nothing.
There had been laughter tinged with indulgence and a ruffle of my hair. “I have no doubt you will, Aids.”
My phone pinged again, snapping me back from the past. I blinked, shaking my head. Beasley was still watching me with a nonjudgmental gaze. I swallowed hard, trying to gulp down the taste of the past, with its lingering sadness.
It was Zach’s reply. I’m in.
I leaned down to pat Beasley again as I reluctantly typed out my reply.
Yeah, I’ll be there.
* * *
I madeit to Cruiser Bar by quarter past eight, slipping in with a quick nod at the bouncers. I had a beanie on my head and was dressed in a nondescript shirt and jeans, yet the whispers and stares started as soon as I stepped inside.
“Is that…?”
“I think it’s Aiden Jones…”
This was the one side of the game I disliked, the high profile that came with playing for New Zealand.
In a lot of other countries, rugby was a minority sport, and the players for the national team weren’t widely recognized outside rugby circles. But in this country, rugby was like a religion, and we were the gods held up to be worshipped.
I sped up my pace as I moved toward the VIP section at the back where at least there would be more privacy.
But when I got a glimpse of the table, my steps faltered.
Fuck.
Tyler Bannings was sitting next to Macca in the booth, laughing at something Zach had said.
What the hell was he doing here?
Macca rose from the bar to greet me. “Jonesy!”
“Hey, mate.” I stepped back quickly after a brisk backslap exchange.
This was what I hated about being the closeted gay guy. I was always hyperaware of any level of body contact. Not that I thought I couldn’t control myself in all situations, but when I finally came out, I didn’t want any teammates to replay interactions with me and for there to be any niggling doubts I’d taken advantage in some way.
I followed Macca to the booth where Tyler, Zach, and Nikau Tuhaka were sitting. Nikau was another young Greens’ franchise player, a lock who’d probably make the New Zealand squad in a year or two if he kept up his current trajectory. He mumbled a shy hello to me.
“How’s it?” Tyler raised his eyebrows in greeting, a cocky half-smile playing on his lips. My mouth went dry. Jesus, the kid was gorgeous. He was good-looking enough on a rugby field, but now, all dressed up for a night out in a tight T-shirt, his floppy blond hair styled back to give his big brown eyes center stage, he was devastating.
I flicked a look at Macca. “You on babysitting duty tonight?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tyler bristle at my words. I got a weird thrill about that.
“Yeah, I brought these two brats with me, wanted to show them how it’s done down south.” He cuffed Bannings and Tuhaka over their heads. “Nah, we’re in town for a sponsors’ shoot. Thought it would be good to catch up with some of you boys while I’m here.”
Tyler ducked away from Macca’s hand. “Watch the hair, dude.”
“Says our resident Pretty Boy.” Macca grinned.
“The girls have got to have something nice to think about when you’re with them,” Tyler shot back.
Fuck, the kid had a mouth on him. Yeah, don’t look at his mouth, the way his lips were pink and full and pouty.
I eyed their almost empty glasses instead. “You guys up for another round?”
“Yeah, make sure you grab them some Canterbury Stallions. None of this watered-down piss they drink up in Orc Land,” Zach said, using the hilarious term everyone outside Auckland used for our biggest city.
“Sure thing.”
Heading to the bar gave me a chance to regroup. So what if Tyler Bannings was here? I could treat him like I would any potential new teammate. Okay, so he might be good-looking, but I had years of practice squashing any attraction to the guys I played with or against. You didn’t shit in your own nest. Especially when your nest happened to be right in the middle of the glaring spotlight of international sport, where every minute detail was analyzed and overanalyzed.
I paid the bartender, accepting his halting praise with a half grimace, half smile.
When I got back, Graham and Levi, two of the other Canterbury players in the New Zealand squad had joined the group, overcrowding the booth.
The only free space was next to Tyler.
I set the drinks down on the table, hesitating for a second.
“Don’t worry. I don’t bite,” Tyler said with a grin as he slid over.
“Fairly sure I can handle you, Bannings.” I kept my voice dry and slightly bored as I sat down. Luckily, he couldn’t hear my pulse, which had a speedy episode in response to his close proximity.
It was a tight squeeze, his shoulder against my shoulder, his thigh lightly brushed up against mine.
Yeah, cataloging every point where his body touched mine wasn’t a good way to get my pulse under control.
This close, I could smell his spicy aftershave, which had another fresh scent as an undertone. Peppermint, perhaps?
I took a sip of my ginger beer, the spicy flavor tickling my tongue.
Tyler nodded at my drink. “You driving tonight?”
“I always drive.”
“You know what they say, all work and no play…” He trailed off.
I lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah, tell me what they say. I’m waiting with bated breath.”
“All work and no play makes a boring bastard.” He smiled triumphantly, like he’d just delivered an absolute zinger.
“Aids is the Ice King both off and on the field. Doesn’t drink at all. And you should see the way he freezes out any ladies who try it on with him,” Macca offered up.
Hairs prickled on the back of my neck.
“Treat them mean, keep them keen?” Tyler cocked an eyebrow at me.
I coughed. “Seriously, kid, you need to come up with your own lines sometime rather than being a walking book of clichés.”
“Better to be safe rather than sorry,” Tyler said with a sly smile, and I had to swallow an unexpected laugh. His eyes glinted.
Unfortunately, Macca hadn’t dropped the subject. He tilted his head, regarding me like I was some kind of puzzle. “I actually don’t think I’ve ever seen you hook up with anyone.”
“Yeah, there’s a reason why they call your private life ‘private.’ Everyone’s a potential paparazzi nowadays. Why risk it?”
“What happened to that chick from the TV you were dating a while back? She was smoking.”
I shrugged. I’d done a charity thing with Amy Tairoa last year, and we’d hung out a few times afterwards, which had led to speculation that we were dating. I hadn’t bothered to shut it down.
I noticed Tyler was still listening closely to our conversation. When I flicked my gaze to him, he dropped his eyes to his beer.
“Some of us don’t aspire to be on the cover of Women’s Weekly.” My smirk was aimed at Zach.
“Fuck off. That was Jess’s idea,” Zach said.
“Sure it was. Fairly sure you planned your whole ‘popping the question’ strategy around what was going to make the best story to sell.”
He threw a coaster at me as everyone laughed. Scrutiny successfully diverted.
“That money from the interview is going to pay for the honeymoon, I’ll have you know.”
“And your true cheap-ass nature comes out.”
We gave Zach shit for the magazine article for a bit. Then the conversation drifted to other stuff.
Try as I did, I couldn’t stop being hyperaware of Tyler sitting next to me. The way his body shifted against mine every time he laughed, the way his voice rumbled when he quipped in with a comment. It appeared the kid was as much of a smartass off the field as he was on it.
He was drinking beer, trying to keep up with Graham and Levi, who were knocking them back like they were electrolytes after a hard game.
I’d never been a big fan of Graham, a loudmouth redhead who’d once cost us a game against South Africa because he’d got a yellow card at a crucial moment for mouthing off at the ref. He was the type of guy who still called things ‘gay’ as an insult, despite Zach and others constantly pulling him up on it.
And he was the guy who was now buying Tyler round after round of beer, egging him on.
I wanted to tell Tyler to slow down, that he didn’t have to prove anything with these guys. But it wasn’t any of my business.
He turned to me, leaning in slightly as I swallowed down another mouthful of ginger beer.
“So, there’s a reason why you don’t drink?” In the dim light, his dark eyes were almost black.
There was a swooping sensation in my stomach at having his attention focused on me. “I like being on speaking terms with my liver.”
He smirked. “You talk to your organs?”
“Sure, doesn’t everyone?”
“I’m not sure if all that New Age shit of being in touch with your body means actually communicating with individual parts.”
“You should try it. You may find it useful to locate your brain sometime.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. Burn.”
I didn’t reply.
“But you’re the Ice King. You don’t do normal burns,” he continued. “What’s the name of that really cold thing that they use to burn off warts and stuff?”
“I think you’re talking about liquid nitrogen.”
“That’s what you did then. My first Aiden Jones liquid nitrogen burn.”
I wrestled back a smile that was trying to make its way onto my face. The kid was a smartass, but he was funny. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing he amused me, though.
After another hour of shooting the shit, someone had the grand idea of moving on to Drummers, a nightclub full of loud music and bad decisions.
Shit. I was far too sober for Drummers. Should I just make an excuse and head off? My gaze slipped to Tyler, who was starting to look sloppy. If Graham kept encouraging him, he’d end up obliterated.
“You coming?” Zach asked.
“Yeah.”
Zach’s eyebrows shot up. Normally, I’d have bailed by now. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I followed everyone out of the bar.
There was only a few hundred meters between the bar and the nightclub, and the night was shrink-your-balls freezing. Already, a low mist lingered over the Avon river, which was barely more than an oversized stream at this point as it wove through the central city of Christchurch.
“Hey, Bannings, dare you to walk along that edge,” Graham said. His face was full of its usual boastfulness, only now there was beer added to it.
Tyler looked at the narrow concrete edge with a ten-foot drop to the Avon River below.
He licked his lips, swallowing.
“Come on, are you a boy or a man?” Graham taunted.
I snorted. Because if you had to do stupid stuff to prove your masculinity, then it really didn’t say great things about men.
“Challenge accepted,” Tyler said.
An alarm bell sounded in my head.
I stepped toward him. “Hey, you’ve had a few. Maybe not the best idea.”
Tyler met my gaze, his eyes slightly glazed. Yep, he was definitely half-cut.
“Just cause you don’t have the balls, old man,” he said.
Zach drew in a breath.
I kept my voice cold. “There’s a difference between having balls and being an idiot. You might want to learn the difference.”
“Sometimes it’s fun to be an idiot.” He gave a goofy grin.
I shrugged, faking a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “Your issue if you want to get injured. I don’t really care who wins the scramble for my leftover minutes.”
His grin morphed into a smirk. “We’ll see about that.”
Irritation flared inside me. Fuck, funny or not, this kid really needed taking down a peg or two.
“Come on, Bannings, you doing it or not?” Graham asked.
I directed a glare at Graham, but he didn’t meet my gaze, instead watching as Tyler pulled himself effortlessly onto the concrete edge and gingerly got to his feet, sticking his arms out like he was a kid pretending to be an airplane. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he took a tentative step forward.
I tried to untense my muscles. The drop wasn’t that far. This wasn’t a life-or-death situation. And hey, if Bannings did get injured, all it meant was I wouldn’t have to cope with him at training camp. Maybe I should encourage him to skip or something.
But my mouth was still like sandpaper as Tyler took a few more hesitant steps, wobbling.
He looked up, flashing a triumphant smile. “Maybe I’ll take up tightrope walking as my next career.”
“All the hot chicks in leotards would be a bonus,” Graham said.
Tyler wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sounds like fun.”
He was halfway along the ledge by now. My fists began to unclench.
Then he started to topple.
Fuck.
Without thinking, I took a step forward, heart in my throat, arms out, ready to grab a handful of his T-shirt before he fell.
Then he stopped himself mid-fall, and a wide grin spread across his face. I pulled up, feeling like a fool.
He took a few more confident steps, then did a flamboyant bow before jumping off.
Always the fucking showman.
Zach gave me a weird look. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I stuffed my hands into my jacket pocket.
We made it into the club, jumping the queue because the bouncer recognized us. One of the perks of being a New Zealand rugby player.
Tyler headed straight to the dance floor, which was good, as it would give him a chance to dance off some of the alcohol in his system.
He danced with the fluidity only the exceptionally coordinated could master, standing out from the mere mortals around him, a golden god of good looks and physical prowess.
I ordered a lemon, lime, and bitters from the bartender, the bitters biting at my tongue as I took my first sip.
When I turned back to look at the dance floor, a beautiful girl in a tight red dress had wrapped herself around Tyler. But he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was staring at me.
We stared at each other for a few heartbeats until the girl said something to him and he looked back at her, giving her one of those charming smiles.
I clenched my jaw.
Why the fuck did I care? The kid was a cocky idiot. A cocky idiot who for some reason had gotten under my skin.
I was going to have to figure out a strategy to cope with him, as I was going to be seeing a whole lot more of him soon.