Playing Offside by Jax Calder
Aiden
Fuck.
Oxygen escaped my lungs like smart citizens fled a zombie apocalypse.
I lay on the grass, gasping like a caught fish, desperately trying to pump some air back into my body. When you were winded, the key thing was not to panic, but it was hard advice to follow when every cell in your body was screaming for air.
I finally managed to draw some breath into my lungs. A groan escaped my mouth.
As soon as I’d managed two breaths, I staggered to my feet. No way was I letting the cocky bastard think he’d got the better of me.
Tyler’s eyes were wide, and he took a step toward me. “You okay?”
I spat on the grass and took a few more deep breaths before I answered him. “Yeah, I’m fine. You can throw all the cheap shots you want at me, Bannings. I can handle them.”
“It was a legit tackle.”
“Sure it was.” I layered as much sarcasm as possible into my voice.
He swallowed, staring at the ground for a few seconds, before asking, “You ready to go?”
“Are you ready?” I shot back.
His forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “You know what they say. Payback’s a bitch.”
“And you give me shit for my clichés,” Tyler said. Our gazes locked for a second. His eyes were such a warm brown, especially now with his skin crinkling at the corner in a half-smile. I looked away. I didn’t banter with my teammates. Especially not cocky bastards who’d just winded me, potentially deliberately.
I didn’t respond, just shuffled around until his stance showed he was braced for my tackle.
And I definitely didn’t hold back. I nailed him around the middle, lifting him off his feet, satisfaction throbbing through me as he thudded to the ground.
He grunted but rolled over and got to his feet quickly, like it was a matter of national pride.
“Bannings, Jones.”
I snapped my head up. Coach Watson was standing ten feet away, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah?”
He shot me a curious look. “Take it down a notch.”
Fuck. Shame flooded through me. I was supposed to be the experienced one here, not rising to the bait of a rookie.
I flicked a glance over at Bannings, expecting him to be gloating, but instead he looked stricken.
“Shitballs,” he cursed as Watson strolled away toward the scrum machine.
He looked like a kid who’d just been told off by the school principal. And I flashed back to my first New Zealand training camp and how scared I’d been about mucking up and losing my shot at my dream.
Bannings came across so confident and cocky. I’d forgotten he’d still be worried about proving himself, and not just against me.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Sorry about before,” he muttered.
“It’s okay,” I repeated. “You nail the South Africans like you nailed me, we’ll be all good.”
His eyes lifted to mine. “You think I’ll make the team?”
There was something vulnerable on his face that almost made me answer honestly. Because I did think he’d make the team. He was good. And one day he was going to be very, very good.
But the selectors could be random. They could decide he was too young, that he needed another year of Supreme Rugby before he was ready for the international stage. I didn’t want to lift his hopes up to have them dashed.
I shrugged. “Not up to me to speculate.”
He blew out a deep breath. “Well then, do you think you’ll make the squad?” He lifted an eyebrow.
There it was, the mocking back in his voice. But I’d had another glimpse of what was underneath his mask.
I gave him a flat look. “I’ll have to wait and see, just like everyone.”
Luckily, Coach switched it up a few minutes later, and I moved on to doing some ball-handling drills with a bunch of the other guys.
I thought I’d escaped unscathed until the end of the session, when Coach Wilson called out to me as everyone was heading to the changing rooms.
“Hey, Jonesy, wait up.”
I waited until he caught up with me.
“What’s up, Coach?” I asked.
“Just wanted to know if there’s a problem between you and Bannings?”
Fuck. My breath fled the scene like I’d been winded again.
Luckily, I was called the Ice King for a reason. I knew how to keep my outsides cool even when inside I was melting down. “Nah, just some leftover rivalry from Supreme Rugby. No big deal.”
His forehead furrowed. “Aren’t you guys rooming together?”
“Yeah.” I scuffed at the grass with the toe of my boot.
“And no issues there?” He gave me a penetrating look.
Fuck.
If I said there were issues, would they change it up? But then there would be questions about what the issues were. And I was self-aware enough to know it wasn’t Bannings’s fault that for some reason he’d wormed his way under my skin.
“It’s all good,” I said.
He gave me a doubtful look. “You sure?”
“I’m a professional.”
“Yeah, I know you are. Never have to worry about you.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work.”
“Thanks.”
I deliberately didn’t glance in Tyler’s direction while I got changed. I was going to need to work harder to tamp down my reaction to him.
Which would be easier to do if the guy wasn’t my fucking roommate.
I hung back to talk to Zach for a while. Unfortunately, the first topic of conversation plunged me straight back into Tylerville.
“You and Bannings seemed to be going hard at it before.”
I tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Guess I’m the guy he needs to prove himself against.”
“You think they’ll select him?”
“Probably.”
“I haven’t spent much time with the guy. Is he as much of a cocky asshole as he comes across in the media?”
I thought of the trace of vulnerability I’d seen on Bannings’s face when Coach had told us to tone it down. And his concern the day before about whether I liked him or not. I got the feeling he wasn’t the complete SOB he sometimes presented himself as.
“Mostly,” I answered Zach.
When I got to our room, I could hear the noise of the shower running in the bathroom.
I raked my hand through my hair. Just what I needed to top off today. Imagining the guy all soapy and wet in the shower.
I was still on my feet when Tyler came out of the bathroom with only a towel tied around the waist.
My breath hitched.
Fuck my life.
I was a strong man. But right now, I definitely wasn’t made of ice.
And it would have taken someone with a stronger willpower than Gandhi not to check out a half-naked Tyler Bannings standing a few feet away. All that golden skin lying over perfectly sculpted muscle. I swallowed. Hard.
“Like what you see?” He smirked.
Fuck. It looked like the direction of my attention had not escaped his notice.
I managed to stop my cheeks from igniting. I raised my gaze to stare straight at him. He was still smirking, and I had an overwhelming urge to wipe that smug grin off his face.
“Yeah, I do, actually.” The words were out of my mouth without me stopping to think through the consequences.
His smile dropped. “Wait, what?”
Now was the time to backtrack and turn this into a joke. But part of me liked the fact I had the cocky bastard flummoxed. I could always claim the joke later.
“I said I do like what I see.” My voice came out husky.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re shitting me, right? You’re just messing with my head?”
He’d started breathing harder, his chest rising and falling as he watched me. My smart-ass teammate was the most freaked out I’d ever seen him. Even more freaked out than when he thought the New Zealand coach disapproved of him.
And that caused anger to flash through me.
I quirked an eyebrow. “What? I thought you’re this enlightened, woke generation. You’re not going to tell me you’re homophobic, are you?”
His eyes narrowed. “You are messing with me.”
I shrugged. “If that’s what you want to believe.”
He licked his lips. I couldn’t help my gaze dropping to his mouth. When I looked back up, his eyes had heated.
Holy shit, maybe I’d read this situation wrong. He couldn’t be, could he?
Bannings stepped toward me, his dark eyes not leaving my face.
What the fuck was he doing? Was he calling my bluff? Expecting me to back away?
It appeared we were playing a game of gay chicken. This was one game I was never going to lose.
He moved into my space, his beautiful face only inches from mine.
“Prove it,” he whispered silkily in my ear, his breath wisping over my skin, causing the hairs on my neck to rise.
My heart pounded in my chest. How the hell had this situation gone south so quickly?
“You want me to prove to you that I’m gay?” My voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel.
“Yeah, that’s what I want.” His voice was equally low, and a shiver of desire stalked up my spine.
Abort. Abort.
The alarm started in my head. This was a bad idea. In the history of bad ideas, this was up there with the Titanic not having enough lifeboats.
I took a step back.
“Thought so.” The smirk reappeared. He thought he’d won the game.
My blood boiled. Acting purely on instinct, I stepped forward and smashed my lips to his.
He gave a grunt of surprise, which I barely heard over the thudding of my heart in my ears. His lips remained impassive under mine for a moment, and I thought he was about to push me away, disgust on his face.
And I’d win.
But instead, his lips parted, and suddenly he was kissing me hungrily, messily. Holy fuck. Without thinking, I returned his kiss with the same force. A nuclear fusion of mouths.
It was another battle between us, this time involving lips and tongues and teeth. Involuntarily, my hands moved to the back of his head, grasping that golden hair, pulling him closer.
He smelled of soap and tasted of toothpaste, two completely unsexy things that suddenly became so sizzling hot right now when all my senses were consumed by him. He kissed me with such pent-up need that I couldn’t help but match his intensity.
His hand slipped down to my groin, and a moan escaped my lips.
Okay, so it appeared we were both going to win this particular game.