My Goal Read online

  September 2012

  CARLOS

  Even though they occupied adjacent spaces in the locker room, Harry kept a low profile and drew little attention to himself. He didn't speak much, nor did he strut around the locker room showing off. He was rarely in the locker room, and when he was, he changed quickly and got out. He was one of the invisible quiet minority, the sort of blokes Carlos usually dismissed from his mind as dull.

  Harry in his own home, however, grasped Carlos's attention as if he had hold of him by the balls. When he saw Scott with Harry and wondered if they were lovers, it was the first time he noticed that Harry was also a stunningly handsome man. It was more than his appearance, his friendly face, and footballer-fit physique. It was something about his smile, his modest mannerisms, his personality.

  Hell, Scott was attractive too, in a very obviously gay kind of way. He'd heard that Scott hung around the team. If he were discreetly dating Harry, that would be why. They were a beautiful couple if they were together.

  Carlos always sought attention, showboating and talking crap. He'd previously ignored those who didn't jockey for position of top dog in the locker room banter stakes. Therefore, he'd barely noticed the reticent English footballer before visiting Harry in his apartment for the first time. Afterward, Carlos developed a keen interest in his neighbor.

  That first visit swept back a curtain, behind which Carlos glimpsed a different world—or at least one of the men within it. He noticed Harry was damned attractive and exciting; he just didn't draw attention to himself.

  Harry was super-cool and self-confident. Carlos had seen that much from their first meeting in the locker room, and he admired it.

  Carlos sought every chance to get better acquainted with Harry. Carlos himself was normally very self-confident when it came to relationships, sex, and dating. But having limited experience when it came to men, he didn't want to rush in too quickly and make a fool of himself.

  If Harry was single, Carlos was damned if he was going to miss his chance at getting closer. He longed to take Harry in his arms and press their lips together.

  Carlos watched Harry at every opportunity: in training, in the gym, in his own apartment. The more he watched, the more Carlos was certain he liked everything he saw. The way the man moved. The way he looked. How he behaved.

  HARRY

  Every time he turned around Carlos was there next to him. Something had changed. Not gradually, but abruptly.

  During the first couple of weeks when Carlos appeared at the club, even though they were positioned next to each other in the locker room, they never exchanged words. Harry felt invisible, which was fine. He liked it.

  Overnight, after Carlos visited Harry's apartment for the first time, there was a difference. Outside of work, they began to hang out together. They'd visit each other's apartment, watch TV, and play computer games. It was convenient. They lived so close to each other. That's all it ever was. They'd go shopping together and eat together too.

  At home was one thing. After all, Carlos was new to the city of Birmingham. After successfully blending into the background for years, Harry wondered why he wasn't invisible any longer. Carlos kept seeking him out. He insisted they travel to and from training together. They'd take turns at driving. At work, they'd partner up in the gym or on the training pitch.

  In Harry's experience, the international superstars on the team—the very best players—didn't hang out with him.

  At the club, at lunchtime, they sat together. Carlos popped himself down next to Harry, or across the table from Harry so often that Harry resigned himself to the fact that they always ate together. It was weird because Carlos was not the kind of person Harry would sit beside.

  Like one of the popular kids at school, Harry found Carlos intimidating. He was a loud, arrogant, attention-grabbing, alpha male. Harry sat with the quieter introverts. Hell, they were all professional players on contracts worth millions. None of them were that introverted, not even Harry.

  On the bus that took them to away matches, Carlos claimed a permanent place next to Harry. Within a few weeks, no one else would sit next to Harry, as if they knew that was Carlos's seat.

  And then there was Carlos talking to Harry in the locker room and the goddamn showers. In a state of undress. Naked. Leave me alone!

  In some ways, Harry enjoyed the attention. He was flattered that a superstar noticed him. It was fun to have the attention of one of the cool kids, and in fact they were becoming good friends. He just couldn't understand why. On the other hand, it left Harry feeling confused about what was happening.

  Harry didn't want the attention of Carlos, not him of all people. He was the only man who could let slip Harry's secret. While Carlos was befriending Harry, he wasn't telling other people about the incident. Carlos didn't even mention it, as if it were forgotten. After all, it took place so many years ago. And they were both drunk.

  Every game, home and away, was preceded by a night in a hotel. Here Carlos's attentions become a little overwhelming. Carlos was always in the same crowd of people that Harry hung out with in the hotel. He seemed hard to shake off.

  CHAPTER SIX

  October 2012

  HARRY

  "Let me show you I'm no angel."

  The young woman could barely stand. She flung herself onto Harry. White wine sloshed around in her glass. She seemed oblivious to it splashing over the edges and onto her dress.

  "How are you going to do that?" Harry had to keep up appearances. A thin veneer of heterosexuality had to be reapplied at regular intervals if Harry were to pass as straight, especially with Carlos as his new shadow.

  It was a pleasant enough night dancing, drinking, and socializing. But pressure mounted. To be seen to be straight. Players start to notice when one of the guys is forever single and never goes home with anybody. There was nothing wrong with being permanently single, so long as you took back a woman at least now and again. Because why wouldn't you as a wealthy footballer in his twenties and a fit athlete?

  "Are you going to take me home?" Angel teetered on her high platform shoes.

  It appeared someone should take responsibility for getting this woman safely home. He doubted if she'd make it out onto the street without holding on to someone. Harry glanced around the room. There was no point leaving with a woman unless lots of the lads saw him.

  Much as he didn't want to, finding the right girl at a nightclub was Harry's best chance at a cover story. And here they were, at a nightclub. Birthdays and anniversaries, personal achievements, and winning a game were all good reasons for the single guys to go out and party. Unfortunately, Harry was one of the single guys. Those with girlfriends and wives had an excuse.

  It had been a while since the team had visited a nightclub or had a team night out of any sort. Birthdays and other reasons came around frequently enough as reasons to celebrate. For Jason's birthday, the whole team went to the nightclub where Jason ostensibly met his girlfriend, Liz, but it was where he actually met his boyfriend, Scott.

  Harry locked eyes with Carlos. It wasn't a casual meeting of eyes across a room; it was as if Carlos were watching him. Harry couldn't understand why Carlos was always there, a constant reminder of the only night he'd ever kissed a man. Carlos held this over him, although he'd never mentioned it.

  If Carlos could verify to the whole team that Harry had taken a girl home, this should get him a free pass for some months and could get Carlos off his case.

  Taking home a woman was the only way out. Harry knew he couldn't go through with it, but he could at least give the impression.

  "Well then, footballer, are you going to get me a drink?"

  Her glass was indeed almost empty with most of the contents all over the floor and her clothes. It was unlikely that she'd remember much about the evening.

  If he took Angel out of there and put her in a cab home, he may save her from some dreadful adventure that she may regret or not even remember.

  "Come on, Angel." He s
lipped his hand around her waist and led her toward the exit. "Did you check a bag or coat?"

  Carlos was bound to witness their exit together, because every time Harry looked around he made eye contact with Carlos. For fuck's sake, why was Carlos always there, always watching him? After a moment, Carlos's serious face broke into an encouraging smile. Harry could almost read his mind. Well done. You go for it.

  Harry wondered why he could not go for a cover story that was closer to the truth, such as claiming his Christian beliefs prevented him from engaging in sex before marriage. Probably because, first, he didn't want to be a laughingstock, secondly, no one would believe him no matter how true such a claim was, and thirdly, he hadn't thought of it sooner.

  CARLOS

  A midweek club night with the team in the West Midlands was far from the sort of glitzy nightlife Carlos was used to. In the VIP section, a mere rope separated them from the hoi polloi. The second city was a far cry from London.

  Carlos had only met Scott once. Over the few weeks that Carlos had dedicated himself to getting to know Harry, he'd not seen Scott at all, Scott had called Harry a few times but not visited. This night, Scott hung around with Liz and Jason, which wasn't surprising because Carlos knew they were good friends.

  Harry had stayed away from Scott. If they were boyfriends, they didn't see each other often. Seeing Scott and Harry at the same venue, they kept a distance from each other and barely spoke or even looked at each other.

  They were in a nightclub where the team was ostensibly celebrating Jason's birthday, when everyone knew it was just an excuse to spend money and party.

  The sound quality of the music was terrific, but the club was shabby. Jason and Liz spent most of the evening on the dance floor with Scott.

  Scott probably had a footballer boyfriend, but a different footballer.

  Carlos was interested in Harry, and Harry appeared to be single.

  There were copious quantities of champagne flowing. Colorful cocktails made an appearance in the hands of scantily clad women who were draped, over groomed, polished, and highly manicured footballers. An ostentatious display of expensive drinks and exclusive labels were familiar aspects of a footballer's night out.

  What was going on?

  Carlos couldn't pull his eyes away from the scene, watching Harry leave with a drunken girl draped over him. Was that Harry's type? If Harry was bisexual, then Carlos may have missed his opportunity if the one-night stand turned into a relationship. Damn!

  Carlos should have stayed close to Harry, and regretted ever leaving his side. Carlos should be taking Harry home and taking him in his arms for the first time. When Harry left, Carlos wanted to leave too, as if every reason he was there had just left the building with that girl.

  Carlos wasn't thinking rationally, that he recognized. The jealousy ruined rational thought. He snapped a goodbye to the people he was standing with, and left.

  Harry and his woman had disappeared from the street, presumably jumping into one of the waiting taxis, as Carlos did. When Carlos's taxi pulled up outside their building, somebody was getting out of another taxi just in front. Carlos thought nothing of it until he watched the familiar figure walk along the footpath to the door.

  "Hey, Harry, wait up."

  Harry looked around and nodded. Carlos was only a few steps behind. Within a couple of seconds, he had closed the gap between them.

  "What happened to your girl?"

  "She wasn't feeling well. I put her in a taxi to go home."

  "You didn't go with her?"

  "I offered that, but she didn't want me to."

  "I see. When you left it looked like the two of you were set up for the evening." Carlos felt like he was accusing Harry, but he couldn't help it and he hoped it didn't sound that way.

  "Yeah, I thought we were," Harry mumbled.

  Harry unlocked the outside security door, and they walked in together. They walked up the wide internal staircase, their footsteps light on thick, lush carpet and their voices low.

  When they reached Carlos's door, Carlos touched Harry's arm and asked, "Do you want to come in for coffee?"

  "No thanks. I need to get to sleep," said Harry and he continued toward his own apartment up the next flight of stairs. Carlos struggled to control the sinking feeling inside him.

  Carlos went into his apartment and shut the door.

  Harry was not dating Scott.

  Sometimes a man needed to get too tired and have a little alcohol to see things a little clearly. Carlos slotted all those pieces together. He was jealous. He felt relieved. Now he felt disappointed, all within the space of the past hour. He very much interested in the man who lived above him.

  Harry didn't go home with a woman.

  Carlos walked into his kitchen and poured himself a large glass of water, out of habit. His mind was on Harry, who had come home alone. Harry barely spoke to Scott at the club, but was all over some girl.

  Harry was undressing alone in the apartment above.

  Carrying the water, Carlos walked through to his bedroom, put the water beside the bed, and pulled off his clothes. He didn't bother to fully unbutton his shirt before pulling it over his head and dropping it on the floor. His trousers went the same way, quickly discarded.

  Harry was single and Harry was hot.

  Arousal coursed through his veins, blood pumping to his swelling cock, images and memories of Harry fleeting through his mind. Carlos fell on top of his bed, naked, with his hand on his hard dick, imagining he was not alone.

  Harry was above him.

  Lying on his bed, his one hand rubbed his cock and the other hand moved over his chest to pull on his sensitive nipples, one and then the other. He masturbated while fantasizing about one of his teammates. Carlos's cock got harder and harder. There was no denying it: that was exactly what he wanted to imagine.

  Harry upstairs, naked, doing the same thing.

  Carlos liked Harry a lot, and he wanted to spend time with him, get to know him better. Find out what he liked in bed. His hand moved faster and faster. As he imagined, he wondered what Harry's dick was like. How would it feel to have Harry's hands on his cock now?

  Harry's mouth?

  If only Harry were here in his bedroom, kissing, touching. Carlos exploded, shooting a white, sticky mess across his chest, shoulders, and stomach.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  November 2012

  HARRY

  "Did you hear about Gareth's girlfriend?"

  Across the table, Rob and Chris sniggered as Gareth entered the dining room and walked past them to the buffet breakfast table.

  "What about his girlfriend?" asked Carlos, raising a spoon of banana coated with yogurt to his mouth from his fresh fruit cocktail.

  Harry dug his spoon into his quinoa and oat porridge, which was colored purple by the raspberries on top. He remained silent. He never encouraged or joined in conversations about people's girlfriends. He was never comfortable with conversations heading in that direction.

  Harry and Carlos traveled to and from the football club together every day. It made sense, as they lived in the same building. Carlos insisted on driving his red Ferrari. He was of the opinion that Ferraris shouldn't be allowed in any other color. He also suggested that they go in earlier so that they could eat breakfast at the club instead of at home.

  Sometimes they ate together, just the two of them, when they'd get in extra early. Other days half the club would arrive at the same time.

  "She has left him for a bird," replied Rob.

  Chris nodded and leaned forward. "Whatever he did, he turned her. He's that bad he put her off men altogether."

  The men giggled like children across the table. Harry stared at his porridge, not wanting to hear this conversation. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Carlos wasn't laughing either.

  There were about twenty people in the dining room that morning, staff and players, but Gareth came to join them. He placed a bowl of cereal down and sat at the head of the
table, between Carlos and Chris.

  "Did I hear my name?" Gareth looked around.

  "I was just mentioning that Lucy's got herself a new girlfriend," Rob grinned.

  Harry took another spoonful of porridge, aware of Gareth sitting with them, but not looking up to meet anyone's eyes.

  "She wasn't my girlfriend. It was just a brief fling," said Gareth defensively.

  "Whatever you wanna say," said Rob.

  "Yeah, whatever," echoed Chis. "You looked pretty tight together last time I saw you. Next thing I know, she's with a woman."

  Rob mumbled at his toast. "Perhaps you couldn't give her what she needed."

  "That could be true," said Gareth. "She wanted something else because there's nothing inadequate with my equipment. I've got what most women want here in my pants. Of all people, you guys know that. You've see me in the shower."

  This wasn't entirely true.

  Harry avoided looking at anyone below the waist as much as possible. For all he knew half the team might not even have penises, he was so careful to avoid looking below the shoulders when they were in the showers. Of course, no matter how careful, he caught the occasional glimpse.

  Carlos bristled next to Harry.

  "It's one thing for you to turn women into lesbians, Gareth. Who wouldn't want a girlfriend like that?" Whatever point Rob wanted to make he didn't finish.

  Chris interrupted. "Yes. As long as she's still into men, and I can watch too, I wouldn't mind a girl like that. Into women and me."

  Rob slapped Chris on the back. "Too right."

  Talking about sex slipped over the line into sexist chatter and objectifying women every day. Homophobic comments were also bound to follow, as usual on most days. Harry was certain worse was to come, and he hadn't finished breakfast.

  Harry didn't like it. It wasn't that he was such a good feminist, but he couldn't see women as sex objects and this isolated him from this particular macho team-bonding ritual. And he knew the men didn't talk like this in front of women. Most of the guys were decent enough that they'd be embarrassed and ashamed of themselves if a woman caught them talking like this.