Playing Offside by Jax Calder
Tyler
“Welcome to training camp.” Macca slapped me on the back as I walked in the door of the hotel.
“Thanks, mate.”
Yep. I was here. New Zealand training camp.
You didn’t need to pinch me because I’d been pinching myself so often since they announced the squad that I should have been a walking, talking bruise.
I’d made the New Zealand training squad at age twenty. Could life get any better?
“Room allocations are over there.” Macca nodded at the board set up in the lobby.
“Cool.”
I strolled over to the board, saying hi and giving the heads-up to other guys with a massive grin on my face. There were five other Greens players besides me and Macca in the squad, and I’d played against all the other guys at some point. These were the elite rugby players in New Zealand. The fact I was now one of them was like getting a shiny golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
My smile slipped when I found my name on the board. Actually, it wasn’t seeing my name that caused the Jaws theme song to suddenly become the soundtrack in my head. It was the name of my roommate printed directly underneath.
Aiden Jones.
Holy hell, was the universe trying to prank me?
I had to share a room with Jones? Yeah, let’s put the gay guy in the same room with the hottest guy in the squad. Because seeing Aiden in his underwear every day was bound to improve my focus.
A pit in my stomach opened up as I continued to stare at his name. It was a pit lined with a swirly mass of snakes.
Because along with coping with Aiden being smoking hot, I also had to cope with his attitude. I’d already gotten the impression the guy didn’t like me all that much. Hard to believe, because what was not to like?
But that night out in Christchurch, he’d given me the vibe that my company didn’t exactly give him thrills of pleasure.
And okay, maybe I’d been a bit mouthy to him. But it had driven me mad, the way he ignored me, and when he did look at me, his expression had been of bored dismissal, like I wasn’t worth thinking about.
I couldn’t resist poking him a little.
Although to be honest, it wasn’t the fun type of poking I wanted to be doing with the guy.
Yeah, things not to think about, number one. Because I was about to have to share a room with him.
Holy hell. I took a deep breath.
“Who you in with?” Kelso, another Greens player asked, as he came to stand next to me.
I found my voice. “The Ice King.”
“Brrr. Better dress up warm.”
“Ah… yeah. It’s going to be like camping in Antarctica,” I replied.
Well, there was nothing more to do. I grabbed my room key and a folder full of paperwork stuff from one of the management team, then set off to find room 412.
Unsurprisingly, it was on the fourth floor. Yep, with my intellect, it was surprising the government hadn’t harnessed me to find the cure for cancer or something.
I hesitated before unlocking the door. Was Jones going to be inside? What did he think about having to share with me? Probably he didn’t think anything. Odds were, the guy didn’t give me any more thought than you’d give a pesky mosquito, something you swatted at when its buzzing became too annoying.
I opened the door, my heart thudding more than the effort of opening a door should warrant.
The pounding didn’t ease when I discovered Jones was already there.
He was propped up on the pillows on the bed closest to the door, watching something on his laptop. When I walked in, he lifted his gaze from the screen, pulling his headphones away from his ears.
“Hey, roomie,” I managed.
“Bannings.” He lifted his dark eyebrows a miniscule amount in greeting. Like I wasn’t worth expending any more energy over.
Shit. My mouth dried. He was so hot. All that brooding dark handsomeness in an incredibly hot body.
Feeling like a kid on the first day of school, I awkwardly navigated around his bed to chuck my bag on the spare bed.
I flicked a glance back at Jones, but he’d gone back to watching his laptop, headphones securely back in place.
So much for an in-depth roommate bonding session.
I turned my attention back to my bag. I was going to be here for four days, so I probably should unpack.
I grabbed a handful of clothes and headed to the wardrobe. Jones’s stuff was there already. Of course he’d be the type to unpack immediately on arrival, everything hung up neatly, his shoes lined up on the shoe rack.
I shoved my shirt on a hanger and placed it back in the wardrobe to hang out next to Aiden’s clothes, then put my shoes next to his.
My stuff brushing up against Aiden Jones’s stuff. Yeah, it got me half-hard just thinking about it. Being jealous of a pair of shoes was a new low for me.
Shit. I really need to tamp down this ridiculous crush.
But it didn’t help when I took my things into the bathroom, it was obvious Aiden had been in the shower before I arrived. There was still condensation clinging to the mirror, and the whole room smelled like his deodorant or aftershave, a woodsy, masculine smell that made my mouth water.
When I reemerged from the bathroom, the man himself was standing by the door.
“Coach’s talk in five minutes,” he said as he left.
So nice of him to wait for me. Great. I was about to experience a week of getting iced by the Ice King. I was probably going to end up with frostbite.
* * *
I madeit down to the seminar room for the introductory talk just in time.
Grahams, the giant hulking forward I’d met on the night out in Christchurch, greeted me as I slipped into a chair next to him.
Coach Wilson started off by eyeballing us, reminding everyone what a privilege it was to be selected for training camp.
“You’re a team from this moment, and I expect you to behave like one. Anything that’s come before gets left at the door.”
This was the crazy thing about playing for the national team. Last week, I was competing against most of these guys in the Supreme Rugby competition and doing everything I could to exploit their weaknesses. Now, they were my teammates, and we had to unite to represent our country.
My eyes drifted to Aiden, who was sitting up at the front of the room. What was he thinking as he heard this talk for the millionth time?
After Coach Wilson finished, outfitting was next on the schedule. Which turned out to mean heading to a room filled with clothes and shoes and basically getting a whole lot of free stuff.
We were also fitted for suits, which involved measuring parts of me that usually didn’t get measured.
Then it was through to the photography studio for headshots. I’d been through this with the Greens, but it was a different feeling when you were pulling on a black jersey with a silver fern slashed across it.
Nerves and excitement waged an epic battle in my stomach. Because this was the real deal. It was like a fairy tale—I had been given a key to a magic kingdom.
Now I just needed to prove I belonged here.
After the photos, it was time for dinner. Feeding time in the rhinoceros pen was probably more restrained than watching twenty-six rugby players demolish a buffet, even though it was obvious nutritionists had designed the menu, with kale and lean protein featuring heavily.
I sat with Graham, Macca, and Kelso, talking shit as we ate. I pretended to be relaxed, but I always had an extra hum under my skin at these types of events with a constant stream of instructions flowing through my mind.
Don’t look at anyone in a way that can be construed as a come-on. Don’t say anything that can be viewed as being a pansy. Be manly. Deep voice. Show no weaknesses.
So I laughed outrageously at Graham’s story about big-game hunting in Africa, even though the idea of shooting a lion made me feel slightly sick.
We’d been instructed by Coach to get an early night because we had to be up at sparrow’s fart the next morning, so after hanging around shooting the shit with the guys for a while, I headed upstairs.
Aiden had disappeared half an hour before me. When I got back to our room, there was the noise of a shower coming from the bathroom. How many showers did one guy need?
I raked my hand through my hair. Imagining Jones in the shower was doing great things for my body. Time to recall how many hairs my Great-aunty Greta had on her chin.
The noise of the shower turned off, and I propped myself up on the pillows on my bed, scrolling through my phone, trying not to look like I was waiting for Jones to emerge.
When he finally came out, he was dressed only in boxers and a T-shirt, his hair still damp.
My mouth felt like it had been instantly freeze-dried. Okay, these next few days were going to be up there with waterboarding, having Aiden Jones so close and not being able to touch.
Jones hesitated at the foot of my bed, then leveled me with a look that made me put down my phone.
Shitballs. I squirmed under his gaze. Why did I get the feeling I’d already done something wrong?
“I’m assuming management put us together because they want me to show you the ropes,” he said slowly.
I plastered on a smirk. “Maybe they think you can learn something from me.”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Bannings. Training camp is hard. There’s a lot to learn. You need to be on top of your game, so there’s no time for stupid shit.”
“I don’t do stupid shit,” I argued.
“Yeah, I have a memory of you walking along a concrete ledge that begs to differ.”
My cheeks heated because, yep, that hadn’t been my finest moment. But Graham had been egging me on, and I hadn’t wanted to look like a pussy in front of all those New Zealand players.
“That was one time,” I muttered.
“Well, make sure nothing like that happens here. You don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said the words grudgingly, but I knew Jones was right. This was my chance. I couldn’t screw it up doing anything stupid.
Jones continued to stare me down, and I wanted to reset the dynamic. Fast.
“Thanks so much for the pep talk. You’re like Yoda. In fact, I’m pretty sure ‘Stupid shit, you should not do’ was one of his catch phrases.”
Something glittered in Jones’s eyes. It looked almost like amusement.
“It makes sense that you should channel Yoda. You’re probably in his age bracket,” I continued.
His eyes narrowed, and he stalked the few steps to his bed, pulling back the covers of his bed before climbing in. He rolled over to face me. Holy hell. Seeing Aiden Jones lying in bed only a few feet away from me was almost more than my libido could handle.
“Is there a Yoda quote along the lines of ‘Shut up now, or your roommate will murder you?’” he asked in a mild tone.
“Not sure. Maybe. Yoda was a pretty wise guy.”
Jones didn’t reply immediately, just continued to stare with his penetrating gaze until I looked away.
“I want to switch the lights off soon. You okay with that?” he asked.
“Yeah, I was thinking you definitely needed your beauty sleep.”
“You’re one to talk, pretty boy,” he shot back.
“Oh, you think I’m pretty? Thanks.”
Something flickered in his expression. Then he closed his eyes, like looking at me was too much effort.
My stomach hollowed.
Why had I said that? He knew I was joking, right? Or had my words been too girly? Was it not what most guys said to their New Zealand teammate?
“I’ll just go brush my teeth,” I muttered, launching myself off my bed and taking refuge in the bathroom.
As I was standing at the sink, I replayed our conversation like it was a sitcom rerun, analyzing every expression on his face and every word exchanged between us.
I’d told Jones I didn’t do stupid shit.
But I was fairly sure that crushing on my roommate at New Zealand training camp, the same guy whose starting role I was after, was the definition of stupid shit.