Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
The first twenty minutes were fine. Tristan was doing great: most of the attacks were going through him, and if it weren’t for some rotten luck, he would have scored at least two goals already.
But suddenly, Gabriel was pushing him aside and intercepting a pass meant for him.
“What the fuck?” Tristan yelled. “You’re supposed to play on the right wing tonight!”
Gabriel gave him a venomous glare. “Get lost. This is mine. Mine!”
Tristan turned to the coach and pointed at Gabriel. “Do something!”
Frowning, the coach started shouting at Gabriel to return to the right wing. Ignoring him, Gabriel ran at the defenders and into the box, causing confusion and chaos. He dribbled around the goalkeeper and blasted the ball into the far top corner.
The crowd roared, but Gabriel didn’t celebrate. Nor did anyone else: Gabriel had managed to piss off all of his teammates in the last couple of months. The coach was still shouting at Gabriel to get back to the right wing, and by now even the fans in the stands could see what was going on.
Tristan lifted his hands to show his unhappiness and suppressed a smile when the fans started chanting his name. Of course they were on his side; he was the wronged party here.
That was when the booing started. Every time Gabriel touched the ball, the crowd booed and jeered. Gabriel ignored it and ran recklessly at the defenders again.
Tristan felt a reluctant pang of admiration. Gabriel truly didn’t give a shit about what people thought of him. The booing would have unsettled anyone, but nothing seemed to touch Gabriel. Nothing seemed to reach him, his pale face devoid of any expression.
Gabriel drove forward, instantly taking out two players before they’d even realized what had happened, fouled a third, and scored another solo goal. The fouled defender immediately got into Gabriel’s face, yelling at him, and Gabriel shoved him away roughly. The referee ran over and showed Gabriel a red card.
Somewhat bewildered, Tristan watched Gabriel stalk off the pitch to an accompaniment of booing from the crowd. What was wrong with the little idiot? Gabriel was nuts. He would be torn apart for this by the press, the coach and the fans.
Scowling, Tristan decided to focus on the match. Thanks to that idiot they were a man down, and now he would have to defend. He hated defending. Stupid Gabe.
* * *
Jared found Gabriel in the locker room. He was sitting on the bench, his arms around his knees. The room was quiet except for the noise of the football match still going on outside.
Gabriel’s shoulders stiffened when he entered, but he didn’t look up, staring blankly at his boots. He was still wearing his blue football kit.
“Go away,” Gabriel said, without looking up. “They might need you on the pitch. What if the golden boy breaks a nail and you aren’t there?”
Jared said nothing, eyeing Gabriel warily. In the two weeks since their conversation, Gabriel had been distant and tense, avoiding him and refusing to talk. Gabriel wasn’t the silent type. When he brooded too long, it meant nothing good. Jared had expected the emotional breakdown, but nothing this public.
“Oh wait,” Gabriel said, still looking at his boots. “This is your last day here, so you don’t care, of course.”
“This was incredibly stupid,” Jared said. “What were you trying to prove? You’ve been getting all kinds of shit from the media as it is. Why did you give them a stick to beat you with? The press are going to have a field day with this. The coach is furious—you publicly undermined his authority. And you know how much the fans love Tristan—they’ll boo you every match now. What the fuck did you think you were doing?”
Gabriel lifted his gaze to him, his eyes the only color on his pale face. “You told me to walk on my own.” A crooked smile curled his lips. “That was me walking on my own. I think I did pretty well, don’t you think? I scored two goals.”
Jared stared at him. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“Why? Why do you care?”
Jared stepped closer and hauled him to his feet. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty? Is that it?”
Gabriel shrugged, looking aside, his jaw clenched.
Jared chuckled, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me? So what am I supposed to do? What? Stay by your side, watch you build a family, and be alone for the rest of my life?”
“You said you love me,” Gabriel said, still looking aside, his voice tight. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t leave me.”
Jared inhaled sharply. “You can’t use this against me. Not this. Do you have any idea how much this sucks? Unrequited love isn’t fun.”
Gabriel’s gaze snapped to him. “Unrequited love?” He laughed. “What are you talking about? What unrequited love?” He freed his shoulder from Jared’s grip. “You’re not leaving because your love is ‘unrequited.’ You’re leaving because—because sex means more to you than love.”