All Chapters of Sidelined Hearts : An M x M Original : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Christian My life is over. My sixteen years soccer career has come to an end. And it's all because of the infuriating jerk in front of me. The annoyance coursing through my veins struggles to stand still when those chocolate brown eyes meet mine. "Irresistible, Charming, & Downright sexy." Those are the words the tabloids use to describe him. "What do you say then, Thompson? Wanna get into this relationship with me?" The way the formal words roll out of his sensual lips tighten my briefs, and I bite my lips in annoyance. Why does he have to be so hot? His eyes follow the movement, and a sexy smile stretches out his lips. It's like he's speaking in an innuendo only both of us can understand. "Only for the tabloids, Ryder." I manage to reply gruffly, taking his smooth smaller hands into my firmer ones. They fit so perfectly. "Anything for you, Thompson." I want to laugh at this situation because if there's one thing I expect from life, it's that it always f

Ashford I wish they'd stop. "Ashford!" "Ashford, over here! "Ashford Ryder!" The name on everybody's lips. I force a smile that barely reaches my eyes, but at least matches my rapid heartbeat, as I'm led out of the stadium. Everywhere still feels a little hazy, and I'm not sure if it's the lights, or the headache from the match that just ended. The hair sticking to my face feels gross, and while everyone around me is screaming for the win, I transport myself somewhere else. Somewhere I can take a col luxurious bathe. The thought is almost so good, that I forget where I actually am, until I feel a hand on my shoulders. That can't happen if I'm in a bath tub right? I blink rapidly as I'm forced back to reality. "Ash, you need to head to the west wing. Some reporters have already paid for an exclusive, so remember don't talk to anyone here. They need the first words from you." My manager, Pierce's word are sharp and brisk, and I nod stiffly. Of course, the bat

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 h

Christian Bullshit. That's a load of bullshit if I've ever heard one. Not because the man in front of me isn't a fairly good liar. No, his words come out straight enough. He doesn't even stutter as he vomits those lies at me. It's the look in his eyes. He isn't looking at me like he wants to be friends. I've had more than my fair share of blokes like him, so I know when a man wants more than friendly company. And Ashford Ryder definitely wants more than that. Someone else in my position would be happy—heck pleased, if everything I've heard about the dude is to go by. But I'm not. This is just another reminder that he's better than me. So he's gay too. Just perfect. Not only that, but he isn't some fucking coward still stuck in the closet after two decades.

Christian My ears ring when I hear his words. Actually, they start ringing when I process them, because I can't fucking believe my ears. But even as my mouth falls open in shock at his offer—proposition, whatever the fuck those string of words mean, my mind whirled as it tries to fill in the blanks. Ashford Ryder—a literal stranger, albeit celebrity, a hot one to booth, wants to hook up with me. Taking in the guy more closely, the age difference between us couldn't be more obvious if we tried. He's ten years my junior, ten years. That's as close to jail bait as I've ever come, and men this young have never really been my type. Mainly because they remind me too much of myself when it comes to relationships—unsure of what I want from them. The thoughts hit too close to home to be what I'll be interested in, so I've strict