Page 21 of Legend

Archie

TomWhitfordisgay.Gay!I still can’t believe it. And I still can’t believe he actually told me. This wasn’t simply an olive branch, it was the whole bloody tree. He’s trusting me with a secret only one other person in the world knows. A secret he’s clearly done a very good job of hiding for his entire career.

I know my reaction to the news wasn’t as smooth as it probably should have been, but all I kept thinking was:Tom Whitford’s gay! Tom Whitford’s gay! Do NOT beg him to pull over and fuck you!

Because, let’s face it, just because I now know that the superstar footballer I’ve been obsessed with since I was nine years old is gay, it doesn’t make him any more attainable. Just because he wants men, doesn’t mean he wantsme.

But try telling my brain that. Or my dick. Because all I keep thinking about is me and Tom. Tom and me. And all the glorious, naked, sexy fun we could have together.

Bollocks.I really need to get a grip. We have our first game this weekend and I’ve managed to score a starting spot. I can’t fuck things up by spending the whole game in a daze, fantasising about Tom Whitford shagging my brains out in the middle of the pitch while fifty thousand fans cheer us on.

I bet he’d be a really great shag, though. I mean, they don’t call him The Tank Engine for nothing.

Bloody hell! Snap out of it, Milligan!

I open the front door as quietly as I can so I don’t wake my mum and dad, and I tiptoe upstairs into my bedroom, softly closing the door. I strip out of my clothes and crawl into bed.?

I wonder what’s wrong with my inoffensive, but now banned, jean shorts?

I really need to get to sleep and not think anymore about Tom Whitford. This might be easier to do if I didn’t still have posters of him on my bedroom wall.?

Does he look even hotter now I know he likes dick?

Fuck it, I deserve a wank and there is no way I’m going to relax without one anyway. My eyes look up at the giant poster I have of Tom hanging above my bed. His intense blue eyes staring deep into my soul. Fucking hell, it’s a piece of paper, and I’m not thirteen anymore. I don’t need to wank over a poster of a man who hates my guts. Or maybe he doesn’t hate my guts anymore? He did offer to drive me home. And to training in the morning. And he did spill the beans about his sexuality—that’s not really something you do with someone you hate.?

Bloody hell, I’m so confused.

But evidently, my cock isn’t. My willpower lasts thirty seconds before I’m grabbing the lube from my bedside table and slicking up my dick, fucking into my fist. I close my eyes, not wanting to look at Tom Whitford the footballing legend, and instead think about Tom Whitford, my teammate, with the growly voice and rough hands, who is apparently just as interested in cocks as I am.

My balls tingle at the thought and my orgasm crashes over me two seconds later.?

Well, that was a short fucking wank sesh. Hopefully it’s enough to take the edge off so I can get some sleep.

But as I lie there after cleaning up, I realise it wasn’t.?Because now that the lust is gone, my brain won’t stop churning with thoughts of Tom’s bombshell.

He’s in the closet. I can’t even imagine how that feels after twenty years of playing this game. Fucking lonely, I’m guessing.?

I can accept that Tom Whitford will probably never see me the way I want him to, but I am going to go out of my way to be the friend he needs.

If he’ll let me.

I take a deep breath as I leave the changing room and make my way down the tunnel to stand next to the line of kids picked to be our mascots. I ignore the opposition team lining up next to me ready to make their way onto the pitch and just try and concentrate on getting in the zone.

Tom may be a moody bastard, but he knows his stuff when it comes to coaching. I feel like I could take on their whole back line myself. There is a part of me that’s nervous. This is my first game for Croydon. It’s my first game starting?ever. And probably most significantly of all, this is my first game as an out gay man. Gideon has promised me that homophobia won’t be tolerated in the stands, but security can hardly eject the entire crowd if they start chanting nasty shit at me, can they?

And if I play like shit that could definitely happen.

But I won’t. I’m going to kill it.

I feel a tug on my shirt and look down to see one of the mascots giving me a toothless smile.

“Archie Milligan can I be your mascot please?” The kid gives me cute puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, mate, of course you can,” I ruffle his dark blond hair. “Is this your first time as a mascot?”

“Yeah, my dad said I’m old enough to be one now.”?

“That’s nice, who’s your dad?”