CHAPTER FIVE: Different Meaning To Things.

Ashford

I can feel his gaze on me.

I act like I don't notice it, but it's the only thing I can focus on since I walked into this pub.

His gaze is so intense, I nearly squirm under it.

Why is he staring at me so intently? And most importantly, why do I like it?

He's trying to hide his obvious ogling, but I can feel it like a caress on my skin—it's prickly, and heated, but I don't hate it.

"You didn't say you were coming here. I would have come with you." The man in front of me pouts.

I throw a playful grin his way. "The party got a little wild for me so I decided to step out a bit. This place is much calmer anyway."

It's a lie.

Christian Thompson—that's why I'm here.

I looked him up.

Gosh, it's too silly to even explain, but I think three strikes is more than enough reason to at least try to know who the guy is.

I mean it's a little odd, isn't it?

He's the one I bumped into before the game.

Then he was the defender I snatched the goal from, something I think he's really upset about.

Lastly, he's the one who called me a show baby at the men's room.

I guess that's an interesting way to put it, since I do put on a show.

What can I say?

Older players like him won't understand how taxing it is to be media trained when we thought all we needed to do was know how to play football.

But I'm not upset about his jab. If anything, it's a bit amusing.

What does he know about me that he can call me a show baby? Is he an agitated fan or something?

When Jake—or is it Josh? I'm not sure I remember the name of the man clinging to me right now, but it's not like it matters.

I almost stiffen when he laces his fingers with mine, and presses a small kiss on my lips.

It's not like I'm not used to open display of affection. After all, I'm one of the few soccer players that's out and proud.

Sometimes I forget that the hate against gay men isn't so outright anymore, considering people have to be careful so they don't get cancelled.

It doesn't mean they accept me, it just means they have to manage their own homophobia, and that's fine by me.

"Baby, let's go back to your room." He's whining again, and I groan.

I met this man barely an hour ago at the game's after party, and since I'm not one to turn down a man throwing himself at me, I decided to entertain him for the night.

A decision I'm slowly coming to regret because I'm too distracted by the man who's no longer staring at me subtly, but openly.

He's tall, like really tall.

And his black hair is styled in that way men like to style their hair, so it looks like it's effortlessly messy, when they actually took great care in getting in that way.

But most of all, he's hot.

The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbow, so I can see the way his corded muscle bulge as he presses his glass to his lips.

I bite my lip slowly while I follow the movement.

It's just him gulping down beer, but it’s like my body has a strange reaction to it.

"You've been staring at that man, Ash. Is he a friend?" Jake, or Josh mentions surprisingly, and I clear my throat.

Is it that obvious?

He started staring at me first anyway, so I'm not being rude.

"I played against his team today." I answer simply.

I remember Jake or Josh mentioning that he's a musician at a bar, so I doubt he'll know him.

As I expected, he only hums.

My eyes quickly move back to Christian's, and I nearly lose my balance when I catch him already staring at me.

I gulp when he doesn't quickly look away, watching the way his gaze drops to Jake's hand trailing my chest, and I can't decipher the look on his face.

It looks like agitation, then something else too. Is he homophobic?

My lips furl in annoyance. Well, that's not my problem, but it'll be a shame if a good looking bloke like him is.

"Ash-baby, should we invite the man over to join us? He looks interested."

Hm, is that what it looks like?

The idea doesn't seem half as bad, and I actually catch myself thinking about it.

What's the harm? Maybe he's interested in me. That could explain the incessant stares.

"Sure." I agree, with a smile.

I'm the last person who would oppose to getting the opportunity to roam my hands all over that lithe body of his.

He's clearly bigger than me, and when I imagine his body pressed on top of mine in my dark hotel room, I have to adjust myself.

No need to get too excited, Ash.

"I'll send him a drink, and see what he says," I inform my companion, who glows with glee.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun. He's hot in that older guy way that's just so sexy, hmm." Jake bites his lips seductively, before caressing the front of my briefs.

He is one horny guy.

I motion to the bartender. "Send him another glass of whatever he's having, tell him it's on me."

The young bartender—a goth looking girl—winks at me, before taking the order to him.

I watch with bated breath as he furrows his brow, before shaking his head gruffly.

I frown. Did I misinterpret his interest?

Without thinking, I pull myself away from Jake, and walk towards the other guy.

Maybe he doesn't understand what I mean. Clearly, he's a bit older than me so this must be awkward for him.

"Hey, I—"

Green steely eyes meet mine. "I'm not a faggot."

What the hell?