A future in which I am totally and utterly fucked.
Chapter 10
Alejo
The day after always has an ominous tone, and for a good reason.
It’s the day after I kissed Thalia, and I’m so fucking beside myself, I don’t know what to do.
It’s also the night of the Real Madrid versus Real Sociedad match.
To be more specific, it’s right after the game.
We lost.
Again.
So there’s really no choice on a night like tonight but to get utterly and completely wasted.
I skipped my therapy that morning and went on the bus with the guys, to watch the game from the sidelines, to get back into that headspace and to put as much distance between Thalia and I as possible.
Childish? Perhaps. But I couldn’t deal with seeing her again, and the game seemed like the biggest distraction.
Now, Luciano and I need to get distracted.
We’re in the back of a private car, ordering the driver to take us to The Last Resort, the only bar we would be remotely safe in tonight.
“There are going to be angry mobs everywhere,” Luciano says in a daze, staring out the windows as we drive through downtown Madrid. Thank god people can’t see in because there are a ton of them on the street and they’d probably rock the car.
Madridistas are a wild bunch. They’ll boo you on the field if you fuck up too much. They’ll whistle when they’re unhappy. If they see you on the street after a few losses, they might try to get a punch in. They take the game very seriously, almost as much as we do, so on nights like tonight, we have to be sharp.
Luckily, the bar, even though it’s crowded, knows us and knows to leave us alone. We’re led to the VIP area with bodyguards and I tell the waiter to keep the champagne coming.
“No champagne,” Luciano barks. “There’s nothing to celebrate.”
“Beers, then,” I tell the waiter, and he walks off, giving us both a sympathetic smile. I’m not sure which is worse, the pity or the anger.
“Mateo won’t be too happy about beer,” Luciano says.
“Well, the manager isn’t here, is he? And as far as I’m concerned, it can’t really hurt at this point, can it?”
“We lost three games in a row, Alejo,” Luciano says. He’s staring straight ahead, hunched over, rocking one knee up and down. “This isn’t good.”
“As soon as I’m back in, we’ll be winning,” I tell him.
He gives me a quick glance. “Uh huh. And what if that doesn’t work? Alejo, you saw tonight. You’ve watched the games. It’s not just that you’re not there to score a goal or two. We have other players to score goals. I should be scoring fucking goals. We couldn’t even get the team to the place where we could shoot. It’s like we lost all ability to play as a team.” He shakes his head. “Unreal.”
I know it’s my job to try and make him feel better, but I’m not sure how because what he’s saying is all true. “I guess we just need to focus on our errors. Watch feedback of the game. Make sure we know what we’re lacking.”
Luciano raises a brow at me. “Don’t tell me you’re after my job.”
I slap him on the back. “You’re El Capitán. I just want to score goals. I just want to play.”
“You will,” he says with a sigh. The waiter comes by and drops off a bucket of beer, knowing we’ll be through them all pretty quick. “How is it coming anyway?” Luciano asks. “Mateo said it’s been slow?”
I nod, not sure how much I want to say. “Slow, yes, but it’s getting better.”
“Has Thalia been a help?”
See, I didn’t want to talk about Thalia. She’s the last thing I want to talk about, and the only person I can think about.
“She has been.”
Luciano studies me and then gestures to the beer bottle. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?” I ask before I take a sip.
“I don’t know. You seem different. Not sure I like it. When did you get so serious?”
I shrug. “I guess since my knee got fucked up and I haven’t been able to play my game.”
“Right,” Luciano says. “So tell me about Thalia.”
Swallowing becomes hard all of a sudden. “Why?”
“Because I’m the captain of the team and she’s in charge of rehabbing one of our star players. I want to know if she’s doing a good job.”
“She’s doing a great job. Why wouldn’t she be?”
“No reason. I’ve just heard grumbles from Dr. Costa. He thinks you might need surgery. He doesn’t know if she’s doing a good job.”
“She’s doing a good job,” I tell him adamantly. “She’s an impressive woman. She knows everything there is about anatomy and she has healing hands.”
“I bet she does,” he says under his breath.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I snipe.
He pauses and slowly looks at me, forehead creased. “Whoa. Calm down there, Brother.”
“You were insinuating something that wasn’t true.”
“Okay. Okay,” he says, his voice high and searching for resolution. “I get it. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would take offense on her behalf.”
“I’m not…” I trail off and finish my beer.
Luciano frowns. “I have to ask though, and maybe it’s none of my business. But…is there something going on between you two? I’ll keep it between us.”
“No,” I say quickly. With maybe too much emphasis. “There is nothing going on. Truthfully.”
“Okay.” He takes a swig of his beer.
“I mean I kissed her last night.”
He spits out his beer.
“What?” he cries out, wiping his mouth with his arm.
I give him a crooked smile. “Yeah. It wasn’t my best moment.”
“You kissed her?!” he whispers harshly. “Holy fuck, dude. Why?”
I raise my brows.
He nods frantically. “Okay, okay, I know why. I know why. She’s gorgeous. She could be a supermodel. She’s one hundred percent someone you would put on your wall as a kid. But…I mean, no offense, but you are kind of a kid, Alejo.”
I roll my eyes. “Twenty-fucking-three. I am an adult, imbécil.”
“Okay, you’re right. That’s not fair. You’re an adult. It’s just that she’s so much older.”
“Would it matter to you?”
“Maybe not,” he says, tilting his head in consideration. “Unless you’re planning on something more?”
I shake my head. “No. It was a mistake to kiss her.”
“What did she do? Kiss you back?”
I nod, the memory sliding down my spine, making me hot. “She kissed me back. And then I stopped it before she could stop it first.”
“I see,” he says. “You know she could get fired.”
“I know. That’s why I stopped it.”
“Good.”
“But fuck, man,” I look at him. “I want that to happen again.”
“Wanting and doing are two separate things. Maybe it would be easier if she passed you off to another therapist. You’ve been working together in such close proximity these last three weeks, I guess I’m not too surprised something would happen. I suspected as much.”
“You did?” My heart thuds in my chest, and I quickly grab another beer, popping off the top.
“Part of my job is to watch our team. I know you. And I’ve been watching you. And I’ve been watching her and the two of you together. I don’t think it’s obvious to anyone else, but it’s obvious to me that you like her. And she likes you.”
“Like,” I say with a dry laugh. “It sounds like when we were kids.”
“That’s how it starts for everyone. You like someone. It’s a good start. It doesn’t always evolve from there. I hope in your case it stays right where it is.”
I nod, even though I want to argue. It’s rising inside me like fire. “But would it be bad to evolve?”
“You’re ignoring the part where s
he could get fired for sleeping with you.”
“We haven’t slept together.”
She did grab my cock, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Right, but that is where things evolve to.” He exhales, and from the stern look in his eyes, I know a lecture is coming. Both Luciano and Mateo like to go into “I’m older than you” lecture mode, and they’re both so very good at it. “Listen,” he says.
Oh yes, here it comes.
“I may not know everything, but I know some things, and it’s so much easier to fall in love with someone who is necessary to you than someone you are necessary to.”
“I’m not in love with her,” I tell him. “Remember, we were just talking about liking each other.”
“Fine. You’re not. But you know what I mean. You’ve become dependent on her because she can heal you. She’s become necessary to you.”
“And I’m necessary to her. She needs me to prove herself.”
“Okay,” he says gently. He smiles. “I’m not arguing with you, Alejo. You know yourself and what kind of situation you’re in better than I do. I’m just trying to give you some advice, as unwarranted and out of touch as it may be.”
“I don’t think it’s out of touch,” I tell him. “You must have had someone break your heart at some point.”
He gives me a funny look. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’re old and you’re single.”
His eyes narrow. “Que te jodan.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Fuck you.” But he’s laughing. “Okay, fine. Yes, when I was younger there was someone who broke my heart. Only she never knew that she broke my heart. She was a sports journalist. She was dating my brother.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. So you can see it already starts off badly. She was dating my brother and I think I fell in love with her without knowing. They broke up. She left to do her journalism elsewhere. To get away from him and the memories. Okay? Then she came back once to Lisbon, when I was with Sporting, before I joined Real Madrid, and we had a beautiful week together. And then the next day she left. She told me she was staying, but then she was gone and I don’t know what happened. But she was definitely the one that got away.”
“And that’s why you’re single?” I ask. I find that hard to believe since the media is always fawning over Luciano. Almost more than they fawn over me.
“No, I just…I’m happy being alone. It’s easy. If I want to get laid, I go get laid. If I need someone to talk to, I have you. I have friends. Family. I’m just fine the way I am.”
“You don’t want your own family? Children?”
Luciano shakes his head, even if he looks a little sad. “No.”
I decide not to press him anymore.
So we sit there in the club, and we drink. Eventually some people we know find us and start chatting away about the team, and Luciano comes alive again, acting like the captain with a plan.
But I’m locked in my head.
I have to figure out what to do about Thalia.
The lines that were crossed last night.
I had tried for two weeks to ignore that incident in my room.
I thought I did a very good job of it.
Every sordid thought, every primal urge, every inappropriate remark, I found a way to bury it deep inside me. I managed to push through it and do what was right for the both of us.
But when we did that yoga session, everything fell apart.
The resolve I had built up, the steel I wrapped myself in to keep it all together, that dissolved and disappeared.
For the first time in my life, for reasons I can’t even explain, I was on that moonlit football pitch, beneath stars and airplanes, and I was vulnerable. I opened myself up to someone as I had never done before.
I talked about my father. About his suicide. That night.
I felt the things I tried to hide for so many years.
Everything came forward.
All because I was with her.
Because I trusted her.
Because I thought I could wrap up all the dark and ugly bits I’ve carried with me, present them to her like a wound I was hoping she could fix.
She can fix my body.
Why not my soul?
And it was in those barest moments that she came over to me and she held me.
I can’t remember the last time I was held like that, held by someone who accepts your pain and wants to help you. My mother and brother don’t count. My teammates don’t count.
Kissing her was inevitable.
My head was so fucked up.
My soul bare, a raw nerve, exposed for her to see.
My heart heavy with the horrors of my past.
What else could I do but try and express it?
But it doesn’t matter now. I can try and spin it every which way in my head, try and come up with the reasons why I did it.
I did it because I wanted to.
Because I want her.
And I’m fucking terrified that this feeling isn’t going to go away.
That I’m going to see her, and it’s going to be hell because all I’m going to think about is kissing her again and again and again.
But maybe, when it comes down to it, there’s no use even fighting it.
Maybe our lives have been set in motion from that kiss.
Maybe everything after this is inevitable.
Chapter 11
Thalia
I’m running.
I don’t really know where, but the sun is just coming up and I’m hitting the streets of Madrid before the heat and humidity rise. Even though the summer is coming to a close in these early fall days of September, it’s still hot as hell here, and if I don’t jog in the morning, I won’t get to jog at all.
I know I could always use the treadmills at the gym at Valedebebas, but since it’s my day off, it’s the last place I want to be right now. There’s so much damn tension there that it’s probably for the best that I stay away if I can.
Most of that tension has to do with the team’s losing streak.
The rest of the tension is between Alejo and me.
Granted, I haven’t seen him since he kissed me on the football pitch.
He didn’t show up for our therapy session the next afternoon and then I found out he was on the bus, heading with the team to the game. I think it probably did him some good to go and support them and get his head back into that space after being injured and cut off from it for so long.
But I also think he left because of me.
In a way, I don’t blame him.
For better or for worse, that kiss changed something in me. It might have changed something in him. It for sure changed our relationship. I was able to recover from that incident in his bedroom and he seemed to as well. But this was something else.
And yet, I have no choice but to be professional about it.
I can’t let it come between us, even if it’s changed the way I view him.
That kiss brought him from a beautiful boy to a magnificent man, the kind of man who is comfortable baring his soul, the kind of man who can almost bring me to my knees with his lips.
I try to shake it out of my head. I keep running, hoping that I can sweat the angst out of me. Maybe it will clear my head, help me figure out just what the hell I’m supposed to do next.
Before I know it, I’m running past the royal palace and on the path alongside the river, running until I can’t breathe anymore and have to stop.
I rest, bent over with my hands braced on my knees, trying to get a grip.
Apparently I can’t run away from my problems. That might just make things worse.
Or give me a heart attack, at the very least.
Suddenly my phone rings from the armband on my bicep, and I quickly fish it out to answer it, blinking in surprise at the display.
It’s my mother.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Oh good, you’re up
.”
“What time is it there?” I ask, and my heart beats even faster because I’m usually the one calling her. “Are you okay? Is Dad?”
She chuckles. “Of course. We’re fine. It’s only ten p.m. We were just at the Stephaniuk’s for dinner and you came up in conversation. Made me realize I hadn’t talked to you in a while.”
I should be annoyed that it takes other people to make my mother realize we haven’t spoken, but I’m used to it by now. She’s always lived in her own little world. She’s a retired school teacher, but I always felt with her teaching classes and then having five kids at home, she shut out everything the best that she could.
Including my father.
My parents were the type of parents that fought bitterly the entire time I was growing up, and yet they never, ever divorced. Things seemed to calm down as soon as my mother retired, but until then it was a battle every day. I remember bringing it up once, when I was old enough to recognize it and the thought of them divorcing wasn’t traumatizing, and she said marriage is until death do us part.
You can imagine she hasn’t been too thrilled her only daughter is divorced.
“How is everything?” she asks.
“Fine. I’m just up early, jogging.”
“How is the team? I’ve seen you on the sidelines once. Your father was able to watch part of a game on the internet.”
“Well, my job is good, if that’s what you’re asking. The team has lost a few games, but they’ll get back at it.”
“I’m sure they will. That’s the good thing about your job, you don’t have to worry about the wins or the losses.”
“Well, I kind of do. The players care and I take care of the players. They become like a family. You want them to do well. They’re your team.”
“But Manchester United was your team.”
“It was, but now I’m here. That’s how it works with professional sports.”
“But Stewart is the coach for that team. Don’t you care about him?”
I hold the phone away from me and make a face at it.
Seriously?
I bring the phone back to my ear. “No, not really,” I tell her in a clipped voice.
“Thalia. Just because you’re divorced doesn’t mean you should cut him out of your life.”
The Younger Man: A Novel Page 13
