Home Goal and My Goal: Two Gay Footballers Stories Read online

  Home Goal

  and

  My Goal

  Two Gay Footballers Stories

  H J Perry

  Home Goal and My Goal © H J Perry 2018

  previously published

  Home Goal © H J Perry 2016

  My Goal © H J Perry 2016

  Cover design by ResplendentMedia.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is suitable only for mature readers.

  First LoveLight Press electronic publication: May 2016.

  http://lovelightpress.com

  Set in the UK and so contains some British words and phrases but is largely written in American English.

  The characters write text messages with random punctuation and they are deliberately presented that way in this book.

  The Birmingham City South football team and characters are fictional but real people, places and events are mentioned in the story.

  ABOUT HOME GOAL

  In the closet...

  Career-focused Jason Tant has given up on love to play football at the highest level: his team is in the Premiership, and Jason also plays for the English national team. He doesn’t want to be the poster boy for LGBT people in sport—and his advisors have told him that coming out will ruin his career. It’s not an issue until Scott captures Jason’s heart and turns his world around.

  Out and proud...

  With a carefree, live-for-today attitude, Scott Cole was never in the closet. Funny, clever, and a terrific dancer, the science student has many talents but the man he loves requires something else—discretion. They seem an unlikely couple but neither can resist the chemistry that draws them together.

  Under scrutiny...

  Prying paparazzi are everywhere, determined to out gay footballers. Scott questions whether he and Jason need to keep their love a secret when professional British sportsmen in other fields are coming out. Will Jason have to choose between love and his career? Or will the tabloids destroy them both?

  An MM romance novel with a happy ever after. The story spans 2012-2015. Set in England where fans would die for their football team and football is not called soccer.

  The book was inspired by the news story in October 2015 that British gay footballers are preparing to come out in public.

  ABOUT MY GOAL

  A story of first love. A gay friends-to-lovers romance between two closeted soccer players.

  He’s cocky, he’s arrogant, he’s entitled to his big ego. He an International footballer and a multimillionaire. Carlos Garcia’s a huge success on and off the pitch, and he’s got it all. Joining a new football club, he wants his teammates to like him, especially the one man who sets his pulse racing.

  As the quietest guy on the football team, Harry Carter avoids attention. He’s so scared of people finding out he’s gay that he’s made sure there are just clothes in his closet. He has nothing to hide, there’s no history, no past, no secret boyfriend, not even a one-night stand. Ever.

  Things are changing. Outside of work, Harry’s best friends are a discreet gay couple, but how is Harry going to keep all the secrets when the new guy on the football team keeps hanging around?

  Why exactly does Carlos sit next to Harry at every opportunity?

  CHAPTER ONE

  January 2012

  Jason

  “I’m sure these are magic, self-refilling, champagne flutes.” Jason eyed the sparkling amber liquid with suspicion.

  The very fact that he found himself holding another full glass of bubbly without knowing where it came from indicated he’d already held too many that night, prior to this one.

  “Good excuse, mate, I’ll have to remember that.” Mark studied his own drink, looking for the trickery.

  Karen giggled. “That’s what you call a champagne lifestyle.”

  “Two’s my limit. You can drink me under the table, Karen. You’re the one with the champagne lifestyle.”

  “Jason’s not much of a drinker.” Mark slipped an arm around Karen’s waist as he clinked their two flutes together.

  Over their shoulders, Jason saw the crowd breaking up into the usual groups. Those who were staying in the nightclub until the break of daylight were settling into prime positions. Others, intent on leaving earlier than Cinderella, took up stations around the periphery of the roped-off VIP section.

  “It’s a lifestyle I could become accustomed to.” She gazed at Mark with calculated adoration, the man she currently hoped would foot the bill for her lifestyle choice.

  Jason could feel Lisa’s eyes boring into him. He turned away to avoid acknowledging her and his gaze fell upon a familiar couple on the dance floor. Often, when the team came to this club on a Monday night, which was most weeks, he watched the same couple with interest.

  Tonight, she was wearing a very short dress; it could have been a nightshirt, atop colorful hippy-tie-dye leggings and Dr. Martens boots. She was tall and slim with a boyish, close-cropped haircut. He was also in boots, with cargo shorts and a short-sleeved Bermuda shirt. It wasn’t their strange dress sense that drew Jason’s attention. The nightclub had no dress code on Mondays when it offered cheap admission to students and attracted an oddball crowd. He had his hand on the small of her back, and they were moving together in some choreographed Latin dance to the Jamaican dancehall track. The couple got Jason’s attention week after week because they looked fabulous. They were among the first to the dance floor, which they commanded like professionals. They appeared relaxed together, having fun. They must have been dating for ages to look so easy with each other.

  “They are great dancers.” Lisa noticed where Jason was looking. “Do you want to dance?” Lisa moved to stand between Jason and the dance floor, though he was able to see straight over the top of her head. Lisa remained tiny even when teetering on high stilettos. Her short dress over bare legs may attract the attention of some footballers but not Jason.

  Yes, Jason wanted to dance; his body couldn’t resist moving. These beats were not just foot-tappingly good; they stirred his whole body to react, as did the eye-candy currently having fun on the dance floor. But not with Lisa or Karen. As friends of the girlfriend of one of the center forward, these women were at many of the players’ social events and focused their attentions on Jason ever since he joined the team last summer, for a signing fee that broke club records.

  “Sorry, I’m dead tired. I’ll call it a night pretty soon.” Jason put his glass down on a nearby table, with no intention of retrieving it.

  “You can’t leave this early when it’s a twenty-first birthday party.” Lisa looked amazed.

  “Our Jason is always one of the first to leave,” said Mark. “Don’t take it personally, just get him to take you home.”

  Jason inwardly groaned and hoped he was not rude enough to display his reaction to this suggestion on his face. There’d be another birthday next week.

  “How long have you guys known each other? I thought you two had only just met?” asked Ka
ren. Mark arrived at the Birmingham South City club as an additional defender only days ago, in the current winter transfer window.

  “I only just joined this team, but Jason and I go years back.” Mark slipped his arm around Jason’s shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Fate brings us back together.”

  “That’s right, we played together on the same youth team,” Jason agreed.

  “We were teenagers, and I latched on to Jason. I figured he’d have special insider information because of his dad.”

  Karen looked blank, and Lisa shrugged her shoulders.

  “Did you know Jason’s dad is a footballer too?”

  “No, I didn’t know.” She shook her head looking from Mark to Jason and to Lisa, who also knew nothing of this.

  “Jason, you’ve not changed at all. You’re still not talking about your off-pitch personal life.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. My dad was a footballer.” Jason explained to the ladies. “But he played in first division teams in the 1980s. I didn’t get any special treatment. He’d long retired from football by the time I met Mark, and we played in the junior league.”

  “Those were the days; all the lads thought they were destined for football stardom. You realize, we’re the only survivors from our group to play in the Premiership.” Mark intended to impress the female audience; Jason didn’t need reminding.

  “Some of the lads are employed in division one and two.” Jason glanced back at the dance floor; the dancing couple had gone. Perhaps for a drink?

  “Didn’t they have the talent?” asked Lisa.

  “It’s not that. They weren’t as focused or ambitious, so they didn’t work as hard as us,” Mark said. “The other lads had the ability but didn’t put in the effort. Some had attitude problems; others were just easily distracted by girls and stuff.”

  Mark stuck out his tongue at Karen, and she giggled.

  “It’s true,” Jason agreed. It was definitely hard work that got him where he was; he never thought it was talent or luck alone.

  He pulled out his phone. “Excuse me.” And slipped away from the small group and out of the VIP area.

  A focus and lack of distraction may have propelled him to a Premiership first team at the age of eighteen and playing for his country less than two years later, but he couldn’t live like a monk. He needed to get laid; it had been way too long, and surrounded by his straight teammates in a fenced off VIP enclosure wasn’t getting him any action.

  CHAPTER TWO

  January 2012

  Scott

  “You having fun?” Liz shouted over the music.

  Two bottles of sickly sweet strawberry flavored alcohol stood on the bar.

  “I haven’t had this much fun since your last birthday.” Scott picked up his drink and grimaced when he took a swig.

  Liz laughed. “Last birthday! That's crazy; we didn’t know each other.”

  Scott shook his head in disgust. “It tastes like something we might mix up in the chemistry lab.”

  “And that’s how we get banned from the chemistry labs.” Liz picked up her bottle and held her nose as she took a large gulp.

  “Someone should have banned them from releasing this drink for sale to the general public.”

  “It’s my birthday. So this is what we do.” She drank more, without holding onto her nose.

  “The same thing we do every Monday. Get to the club, early, dance for hours and leave with enough time to get a good night’s sleep before college.”

  “Exactly. This poison in a bottle is the special treat for my birthday. Drink up so we can get back to dancing.”

  “If I taste this again, in twelve months’ time, it’ll be too soon. In fact, I might duck out of that night.”

  “I hope some other drink will be on the two for one offer next time. We can’t be this unlucky two years in a row.”

  Scott couldn’t argue with Liz; it was her birthday. A few of her other friends had joined them earlier, all science undergrads, but they dropped out earlier, and it was still pretty early, but this party had begun in the afternoon.

  “At least there are loads of good-looking guys here.” Liz turned to look at the people in the crowded bar.

  “They may be cute, but they're not really my type,” said Scott.

  “Why not your type? Other than willing, I didn’t know you had a type.”

  Scott opened his mouth for a mock pose of indignance. “Well, gay for a start.”

  “Like I said, willing.” Changing the subject, Liz asked, “Did you see that bloke in the roped off section again?”

  “I couldn’t not see him. He’s hot.”

  Even across the club, Scott could see the stranger was interested. It was a game they’d played for months, whenever they saw each other. Scott worked his dance moves for the man’s attention. The stranger watched with not-so-subtle interest. Last week the guy was standing alone, watching them dance, so Scott showboated some of some of his most sexy, provocative moves. One hand on his crotch, the other hand outstretched, gesturing toward the stranger. And he blew a kiss. It was suggestive, sexual and just staying the right side of crude.

  “I saw him too. When are you going to approach him?”

  “How can I? Haven’t you noticed, he’s always in the fenced-off VIP section? Roped-off to keep him safe from ordinary plebs like us.”

  “Plebs we may be, but please, not ordinary. Look at us.” Liz tilted her head, making a show of inspecting them both.

  “I think he’s not out among those guys he’s with. It’s the only possible reason that he doesn’t come over and ask to take me home.” This same fantasy got Scott horny, but nothing more, every time he saw the guy.

  “You’d think they’re all gay, or cover models or something, judging just by their looks. I’ve never seen so many men with their hair carefully sculptured and not moving.” Liz dragged her fingers through her own hair as she spoke.

  “You’re telling me. But they’re surrounded by gorgeous women with no self-control when it comes to the application of cosmetics. That’s the clue that they aren’t gay. Whereas I’m accompanying a beautiful woman who understands the phrase less is more.”

  “Ha! I’m trying to believe that when it applies to my bank balance. As in, every time I have to spend money. Anyway, perhaps it’ll be different this week. He’ll come over, sweep you off your feet, and then you won’t have to bring home some other man and pretend it’s him.”

  Scott thought about objecting to that statement. She was joking. He’d never told her but sometimes his mind did wander to that fantasy when he was with other guys. That’s not the sort of thing you own up to.

  “I didn’t give him the full show yet; I’m saving that for when we get back out on the floor.”

  “You mean like last week when you grabbed your crotch and pointed at him?”

  Scott choked on his drink, and some of the foul sugary concoction went up his nose. “That is not how I’d describe my seductive dance moves, but you remember it correctly.”

  “Let’s get this straight.”

  “Not straight. It’s already straight enough in this club.”

  “Okay, let’s be clear. You think he’s gay and shy or even in the closet, and you think lewd gestures like that are the way to seduce him?”

  Scott rested an elbow on the bar and his chin on his head striking the pose of the thinker. After a pause, he said, “You may have a point there. Too subtle. This week I thought… hold on; I’ll show you.”

  Despite broad masculine shoulders and muscular arms, he slipped from the bar stool with boneless, feline grace and took up a position behind it.

  “This is you. You’ll bend over, and I’ll dagger from behind.”

  Liz’s eyes were almost as wide as her mouth as she tried to speak.

  “But.” With an outstretched arm, Scott’s hand went up in front of Liz’s face to silence her. “This is the most important part.” He slowly moved his outstretched arm until it was at a right
angle to his body and then he sought out a distant object. He pointed at the object and the chair, then the object and the chair, while thrusting his pelvis in obscene gestures.

  Liz screamed with laughter. “I love it. Do I need to list the many, many, many things that are wrong with that plan?”

  “I thought it was genius. A clear invitation, that I’d like him in that position. How could he resist?”

  “You are not serious. He’d die from embarrassment. They might play some dancehall, but this is not the sort of club for daggering. And you’re far too camp for that move.”

  “Liz, I can’t believe you’d say such a thing. You of all people.” Scott placed a hand on his hip and waved the other.

  “Look at you, Scott. Have you ever had to come out to anyone?”

  Scott secured both hands on his hips, which he moved to the music. “No, not as such.”

  “Because…”

  “Because everyone knows. I wear my sexuality like a badge.”

  “Because you’re so camp everyone assumes. They look shocked when we pretend I’m your girlfriend.”

  “Oh. That’s only because you’re such an obvious butch lesbian.”

  “I’m not obvious. This is look is hardly butch. And I’m only part-time in the girl-on-girl club.”

  “What other reason is there to explain why you aren’t chatted up by blokes?”

  “Because men are scared by intelligent, assertive women. And if I told them I was on a drama course they’d be all over me. One hint that I’m a female physics undergrad is like straight-man-mace.”

  “Enough about you. Just because it’s your birthday, no need to hijack the conversation about how I plan to seduce my secret admirer when his straight friends surround him. You can do the daggering if you prefer. I’ll bend over, but I’m not twerking.”