Tackle (13 page)

C
hrist
. You could have put my blood into the space shuttle and it would have shot into orbit faster than any launch in history… My head was pounding, and I hadn't even torn my sticky, sweaty skull so much as an inch away from the sheets. If I felt this bad when I was clearly still half-drunk and lying on my back, then today was going to be a bad day. A very bad day.

There must have been a reason I'd done this to myself, I thought, but as I lay on my bed with my eyes screwed shut and an arm clumsily probing my bedside table in the vain hope that drunk me had been kind enough to leave hungover me a glass of water and a pack of Tylenol, I couldn't think what it was. I consoled myself with the thought that at least I didn't have training today. I wasn't exactly a stranger to training hungover, but
this
was different. This was the kind of hangover that you hope never to have to have again, the kind of hangover that makes you swear off alcohol for weeks – the kind of hangover that I'd had about once a week at college.

"Fucking hell, Alex," I groaned, bringing my hands to my face to protect my delicate eyelids from the onslaught of the morning – or maybe even afternoon – sun. "Why the hell do you do this to yourself?"

As if that vocalization was exactly what my brain needed to remember the whole, unvarnished truth, the recollection of last night's events – and what had spurred them on – flooded back into my mind.

Disjointed images of stumbling down La Rambla, Barcelona's main avenue, with a baseball cap hurriedly purchased from a street vendor pulled down low over my eyes to hide me from ever-vigilant camera phones.

Scaring the crap out of a bunch of Chinese tourists as I drunkenly fell into their backs.

Heading down to the empty beach at three in the morning with just a bottle of wine the company.

And, of course – the reason I'd gone off the rails.

That text.

"Shit," I groaned again, "why'd she have to go and do that?"

I couldn't call it a breakup – because we'd barely been dating, hell you couldn't even call it that, for a couple of weeks. At least, I suppose, Diana had had the balls to actually pull the trigger and not just ghost me…

The worst bit was I knew that I was only feeling what I'd caused so many women to experience over the years. Maybe turnabout really was fair play, but it sure felt crappy. I knew that Diana was to me what I'd been to so many girls – addictive, an elixir, a tonic. She'd been like a rope to a drowning man, and I'd clung on tight, opened up to her her a part myself that I'd never revealed before – not willingly, anyway. She'd seen me for what I was inside, not the image I gave after the rest of the world, even when sometimes I didn't know the difference myself. And most of all, she hadn't cared about any of it.

And the sex. The things that girl could do with her tongue, those tight little hips. My God, the sex…

And yet, here I was, lying in sheets soaked with my own sweat and wallowing in regret. The worst bit was – I didn't even know why.

I tried to picture the whole scene in my mind, to get inside Diana's head and figure out how the hell she could have done this to me. The thought briefly crossed my mind that perhaps this was for the best – perhaps this very scene was the reason enough that I shouldn't let myself get entangled with women. After all, I was running at about oh for one as far as successfully opening up to a girl went. If it was going to be like this every time, my brain suggested weaselly, perhaps it wasn't worth having at all…

But I shut that down fast. No – I knew that what I'd felt had been real. It wasn't some kind of honeymoon effect; it wasn't just a flood of hormones and serotonin caused by a passing infatuation, and it sure as hell wasn't a reason to give up.

No, this was a speed bump, not a stop sign. Of all the challenges I'd experienced in my life, this was simultaneously the smallest – and the most imposing. But I hadn't become the most expensive American soccer signing in history by giving up the first time I kicked a ball, and I sure as hell wasn't going to start now.

So this relationship stuff was new to me. Big deal. Diana was going to be mine again. She just didn't know it.

I just didn’t know how.

There was one thing I did know though – I was going to be in a room with her in two days time. It would be my best opportunity of getting her back. And I wasn’t going to blow it.

A
lex winked at me
, then turned to the Barcelona press officer. "That's it," he growled, his voice tight with feigned anger, "I'm done. Roberto – no more interviews today, got it?"

"Alex," the press officer replied diplomatically, "perhaps this is a matter best handled between the two of us."

Alex threw his hands in the air. "What about what I just said was difficult to understand?" he snapped. "Leave us alone, will you?"

Roberto looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and I could see his brain whirring, trying to come up with a solution to Alex's anger that wouldn't leave the notoriously quick-tempered soccer player alone in a room with a reporter – and especially one whom he had, at least to Roberto’s knowledge, a fractious history with. "Alex – this isn't a good idea…"

Alex didn't bother turning his head. "Out, now," he growled.

Roberto stood, leaving his hands anchored to the arms of his chair in the desperate hope that Alex would relent. "I'll come back in five?" he asked hopefully.

"If I see you in here in the next half an hour," Alex growled, "I'm not turning up to a press event for the rest of the month. Tell you what, I'll add a week to that for every second you delay…"

"Okay, okay," Roberto said hastily, leaping out of his chair, "I get your point."

"One…" Alex grinned, staring obviously at the heavy watch dangling off his wrist. "Two…" As Roberto hurriedly started speed-walking towards the exit, Alex turned his head to watch. "Oh, and Roberto?"

The press officer didn't take any chances that Alex was trying to trick him into missing a couple of extra weeks of press duties and simply turned his head as he continued leaving the interview room, muttering grimly, "What is it, Alex?"

Alex grinned. "That goes for your minions as well."

Plan foiled, Roberto gritted his teeth and huffed out of the room.

"So," I smiled nervously, "you've got me alone."

Alex reclined in his chair, studying me intently. "You hurt me, you know?"

I nodded, trying to hide a stabbing pain of regret in my stomach that had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. "I know."

"I didn't have any right to expect a relationship, I know that," he muttered, "but I thought I deserved more than just a text."

I nodded again. "I know, you did."

He spread his hands forlornly. "Then… Why?" he asked. "Why didn't you just tell me in person? It's not like," he said, indicating the room, "we don't get the chance to bump into each other from time to time…"

I bit my lip, trying desperately not to think of the night we'd spent together, fornicating under the stars, or the way Alex's hands delicately caressed my skin, or the way I'd woken from a dream, wet between my thighs, with his face burned into my eyelids for weeks. I tried to hide it, but I guessed from the way his posture shifted that he'd noticed something change in my demeanor.

"You still feel something," he murmured, "don't you?"

My jaw was numb, wired shut. I wanted to scream that I did, and that I wanted to jump him where he sat, but I felt paralyzed by fear. Nothing had changed, not really. Every reason I'd agonized and lost sleep over for putting the brakes on our affair still held true. Grant Adams would still fire me in a heartbeat if he found out I’d ignored him, and my two enemies in the press pack were still searching for any reason they could muster to get me fired – and take the world back to how I assumed they thought it should be – a journalist’s old boy’s club. Alex was still the unreliable bad boy he’d always been. In short, I had a whole lot more to lose than he did.

And yet…

I was trembling in my seat, as though the air conditioning had been cranked up and the temperature in the room had dropped far lower than normal. Alex stared at me with unexpected compassion in his eyes. "Just tell me why. Can you do that?"

"I-," I started, choking on my throat. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was…afraid".

He looked hurt. "Of me? "

"No!" I said quickly, hot tears filling my eyes.

Alex stood up, staring directly into my eyes with an expression that said,
"then of what?
" He moved towards me slowly, as though he was approaching a terrified, wounded animal and hoping not to startle it. My feet were locked to the floor, my hands heavy against the arms of the chair, my body locked into place. The only muscles moving in my entire body were the ones guiding my eyes, which tracked his progress eagerly.

Alex closed the distance between us and stood in front of me, reaching his hands slowly towards me – as though terrified that any sudden movement would break the spell.

Finally, with excruciating care, he cupped my shoulder in one of his huge, powerful hands and stilled my trembling body. "It's just me," he whispered. "Chill."

His touch was electric, and the moment I felt it, every word of the conversation I'd shared with Tim flooded back into my mind.

Why the hell was I denying myself the pleasures of youth, I wondered incredulously. What was the risk – that some old men would find out that I was banging a soccer player? Hell – in this day and age, that would probably catapult me to stardom, not doom my career. And the simple fact of the matter was that I couldn’t stop thinking about him anyway. If I gave in to my desires and paid the price, then so what? It surely couldn’t be worse than spending the rest of my time in Spain pining for the affection of a man who would give it to me in a heartbeat, if only I asked…

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I didn't mean—"

Alex cut me off before I could finish, his eyes filled with anguish. "It doesn't matter," he said urgently, "none of it does. Just tell me, is there anything here? Tell me the truth, Diana – I'm dying out there on the field, and it's all because I can't get you—" he paused, scrunching up his face, "—
this
, out of my head!"

"There is!" I replied, standing strong against the rampaging storm of the emotional turmoil. "Listen, this," I gestured around, "this career is all I've ever wanted. Since before I even knew how to get into it, this is all I've ever wanted to do. Well, except actually play…"

"You played?" Alex replied with surprise written on his face.

"Well, yeah," I grimaced, "until I blew my knee out in college…"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?
You've
got nothing to be sorry about. It's me who should be explaining."

"Okay…" He said, falling silent.

I chewed the inside of my mouth, trying to figure out how to phrase the story that I wanted to tell. I decided just to go with the truth. "You know the last thing my boss told me before I came out here?"

He replied slowly. "No…"

"He told me not to sleep with you, you know that?"

"Me!" Alex replied, throwing his arms to his chest in amazement. "Why me?"

I knew he was joking, but I replied seriously, raising my eyebrow to make clear exactly how I felt. "Why you? You've got something of a reputation, you know…"

"So that's why you broke things off?" Alex replied reflectively, his shoulders hunched over. "I can understand that, I guess. I wish you'd told me, though."

"What would you have done?"

"I dunno, talked you out of it? Tried, at least…"

"I didn't know what else to do," I said helplessly, "I don't know how we can do this, Alex. I want it, I do, more than anything, but –."

"But a relationship's not enough," Alex replied understandingly, getting to the very heart of what I was trying to say. "You need more than just sex, or love for that matter – you need to feel useful, and important. Is that it?"

I nodded.

"Believe me, Diana – if there's one person in the world who gets it, it's me. That's the life I live every day. It was never enough for me to play for some two-bit MLS team – I needed to go pro, to have tens of thousands of people watch me from the bleachers, and tens of millions more on the television every week." He fell silent, thinking. "I don't suppose…we could just keep it quiet? Fly under the radar? What are the chances that this boss of yours would actually find out about us?"

"I wish it was that simple," I groaned, "but there's a couple of journalists in the press pack who are out to get me. If I give them so much as a hint, they'll figure it out, and then I'm done for."

Alex rested his head in his hands, seemingly racking his brain for a solution. "Who are they," he growled menacingly without looking up, "tell me the names. No one threatens you and gets away with it…"

"Alex," I protested, moving towards him without even realizing it and cupping his chin with my palm, tugging at it until I was staring him in the eyes. "what can
you
do about it? You're a player, not their news director."

"I don't mean to sound arrogant, Di," Alex smirked, "but I'm more than just a player, I'm a goddamn star, a global brand now –."

I cut him off, barely bothering to hide my amusement. "Surely you can't say something like that and
not
sound arrogant?"

"It's not arrogant if it's true," he said simply. Put like that, he had a point. He kinda
was
a global star now. But I still didn't understand what he could actually
do
about our problem. "You don't believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you're famous," I said, playing along with his cockiness, "I just don't get what you can possibly do about it…"

"Give me their names," he growled, "and you'll find out." There was an electricity in the air, a heat crackling between us, and I felt something I'd never felt before. I felt like I had a guardian angel – and against all the odds, I believed him.

I stood up, decision made. I saw in Alex's eyes that he thought I was leaving, saw the heartbreak written on his face.

And then I kissed him.

It wasn't tender, it wasn't fragile – it was hungry. I pressed my lips against his hard enough for them to whiten under the pressure. To his credit, Alex didn't hesitate; he kissed me back fiercely, aggressively. I moaned, pressing my body against his. "Oh, yes…" I whispered into his mouth.

He grabbed my hips, spinning both of us around, and sat back down on my canvas director's chair. "Sit," he growled, not giving me a choice as he pulled me down on top of him. I was in no mood to refuse either way.

I bit his lip, feeling the fires of desire stoke between my thighs. "Here?" I asked, worriedly looking around at the stadium's glass outer walls.

Alex looked up at me and grinned. "We're on the tenth floor. Who's gonna see us up here?"

I turned round, brushing a stray hair away from my eyes, and stared at the hand-held camera I'd brought with me. "Oh," I grinned, I dunno – maybe that…"

Alex peered round me curiously. "Oh… Fuck it," he grinned, "let's make a movie."

"Alex…" I moaned, "we can't. I can't." I said the words, but my eyes told another story. I wanted to screw him here, now – on this chair, in this room. I wanted him to make me come, and I didn't care who heard.

"It's your camera, isn't it?" He grinned, reaching around to where my dress zipped at the back. "Maybe you lose the film? Hell – you're gonna have to do something," he said to the soundtrack of the dress unzipping, "it's already got you on camera kissing me."

I threw my head back, contemplating what he'd said.
Shit
…

Alex's fierce right hand was occupied by undoing my dress, but that didn't stop his left sidling its way up my open legs, stroking the soft, sensitive flesh that marked my inner thighs and working his way towards the begging wetness of my crotch.

"Fine," I groaned, suddenly desperately excited by the thought of having him – having this – on camera. I met his lips once more, kissing him hungrily and biting down on his lip. He took it like the sound of a starting gun – an invitation to slip into high gear. His right hand finished its journey down my back, and released from the responsibility of holding the dress up, its straps fell away from my shoulders. Alex tossed it aside dismissively, gasping as his eyes fell hungrily upon my tanned skin.

He suddenly stood up, shocking me with the abruptness of the action. I clung to him with my thighs, hooking my legs around his streamlined muscular torso by my ankles.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, short of breath as I peppered Alex's throat with hungry kisses. I was aching for him to fuck me, desperate to feel his big, thick cock stretch me, and to feel his length bottom out inside me.

"To the window," he grinned mischievously. "I want to see the view while I'm fucking you."

"Alex," I whispered, shocked, "this is supposed to be a secret. I don't want the whole city to see my ass pressed up against the glass!"

"I do." He grinned. I scratched his back with my nails, digging them in in the hope that I'd shock him enough that he'd drop me. No such luck.

"That's all you've got?" he said without so much as wincing. "You’ll have to do a hell of a lot better than that…"

I felt vulnerable and open – hell, I was almost completely naked, and Alex was about to take me against a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that looked out across the whole city. Shit, there were probably hundreds of tourists down there right now, and any one of them could look up at any time… I wriggled against his hips, trying to lean back against Alex's powerful, muscular grip, but that didn't do anything. Well – almost nothing.

"Now you're just warming up my cock," Alex growled, pressing my ass and the naked skin of my back against the cold window glass.

I yelped. "Alex, seriously," I moaned, "anyone could be watching!"

He pressed his mouth against mine, and to my shame, I couldn't resist leaning in to his kiss. I bit his lip, and he stared at me with a mischievous grin. "That's the point. I mean, there's
almost
no chance anyone's looking up right now, and there's
every chance
that it's too sunny for them to see anything through the glass anyway…"

"But…" I moaned.

His cock pressed against my bare leg. "Exactly," he growled. "There’s that little chance that someone
is
watching; that's what's so damn hot about it."

Alex reached round, unhooking my bra and tossing it aside. His eager mouth drove down towards my nipples, rolling the hard nubs between his lips. I couldn't help it, I pressed myself down and towards his thick cock, which was radiating a desperate heat. I succumbed. Alex was right, the thought that anyone could lift their eyes and see him fucking me against the glass was…