Ball play, p.1
Ball Play, page 1
BALL
PLAY
A Holiday Story
Isobel Starling
www.decentfellowspress.com
Copyright © 2021 Isobel Starling
ISBN:
First Edition:
All rights reserved worldwide. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author, except for the purposes of reviews. The reviewer may quote brief passages for the review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.
The characters and events described in this book are fictional. Any resemblance between characters and any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The use of real-life locations is for fictional purposes. The plot, actions, and characters in this work are fictional and in no way reflect real-life occurrences at these establishments.
BALL PLAY, Copyright © 2021 Isobel Starling
Cover Art Design by Isobel Starling
Many thanks to my family for their love and support
Praise for Isobel Starling
“Oh my gosh, this was a hyperintense erotic read. It's highly seductive. The eroticism dripped everywhere. It crackled with sensual electricity. But damn it made me cry and I never wanted it to end. This is what I call 'intense and sensual'” Review for “Silken” by Truus on Amazon
“It has heat and sweetness, danger and anger, and a bad guy you can really scowl at. Hard. And mean. And then simper with joy at the lovebirds he detests. Ha! This is the type of series that has you back-talking the characters. Out loud. And only being embarrassed that they ignored you. It fills you up until you're bubbly with the feels it pulls from within you.” Review of Shatterproof Bond Series Boxset by Paisley Rowan on Amazon
“I found myself simply mesmerized by the exchange of words as Sam and Declan make the true depth of their feelings known. You can’t help but be moved by it, and I felt like my heart would just explode with the power of Sam and Declan’s love and devotion. I can’t wait for the next adventure; this series really has me hooked!” Review of “Return to Zero” by Carra, Making it Happen Book blog
CONTENTS
Chapter1 Leander
Chapter 2 jAKE
Chapter 3 lEANDER
Chapter 4 jAKE
Chapter 5 lEANDER
Chapter 6 jAKE
Chapter 7 lEANDER
Chapter 8 jAKE
Chapter 9 lEANDER
Chapter 10 jAKE
Chapter 11 lEANDER
Chapter 12 jAKE
Chapter 13 lEANDER
About the author
CHAPTER 1
LEANDER
I liked living behind Little Brook Park. It was a beautiful park in a neighborhood outside the city and a twenty-minute drive to the coast. Little Brook Park had a nice wide-open field, a small play area for toddlers, woodland, and of course, there was a little brook that ran east to west through the park towards the river. When I was studying I’d lived in a cramped off-campus apartment in the city. With the noise, pollution, and too many people I didn’t want to live in the city again.
I’d been at my Little Brook house for two years now. Two years of nesting, and self-care. Two years of trying to mend my broken heart.
Two and a half years ago I’d discovered my boyfriend Erik was leaving me after graduation. Shocker, right! You’d better believe it! The discovery of his betrayal hurt like hell, as did the fact that I was the last to know. Our break-up didn’t only bruise my ego, my heart was shattered, and my ability to trust fell to its lowest ebb. I shut up the shop, so to speak. Sure, I did a little window shopping now and again on the GoodBod dating app—just to see how many hot guys were in the local area, but hadn’t dated since Erik left. No flirting, no kissing, nothing. I’d gone from an intense four-year relationship to living like a monk. Was I dead inside? I was beginning to wonder if the break-up had broken me in some intangible way.
I’d thought that after university Erik and I would move in together and begin our lives. Throughout our studies it was always us, we went from friends to lovers, and were joined at the hip. I’d believed that when we graduated our relationship would develop and grow to the next level. My dreams were all laid out in my head, we’d find jobs, then a house, maybe a dog, and after a few years of working our way up the ladder in our chosen careers we’d look into having a family.
On paper, Erik Nordstrom was the whole package. He was an Environmental Science graduate, blond with natural Scandinavian charm. His father was a Swedish actor and his mother was from California and ran an online paper-craft company. I was an English graduate, an only child of scholarly parents who had now both retired from teaching. Erik and I had met one another’s families and took turns sharing the holidays with them. And so, I’m sure you can imagine my shock when Erik told me he’d decided to travel around South America alone…well, not so much as told me, I’d found the travel itinerary email he’d left in my printer.
At first, on reading the pages that he’d erroneously left in my printer, I was confused. I’d thought for a flash of a moment that he’d wanted to surprise me and he was taking me to South America, but as I read the details of the covering email and a wave of devastation hit me. One passenger was listed for a one-way ticket to Sao Paulo. He was traveling without me.
When I’d pulled my jaw from the floor I waited for him to come home. He strolled into our apartment like it was a regular day. I questioned him about the email. He couldn’t look me in the eye and his face turned beetroot red.
“Oops, yeah, sorry, I was going to tell you,” he replied as if he’d done something as mundane as eating the last cookie in the jar.
“When were you going to tell me?” I’d thrust the travel documents at his chest and they fluttered like confetti to the floor. “When you were at the fucking airport, maybe?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice.
Erik then stood there, as if his batteries had run out and the shutters had come down. He was mute, and it angered me that he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say to me…ME, his boyfriend of four fucking years, ME his supposed best friend, lover, support system, cheerleader, and place of comfort. He just stared at me as if he couldn’t compute that I’d caught him out.
“How long are you going for?” I asked, trying to keep my voice at a calm, reasonable timbre. Somewhere in my heart there was still a cinder burning for him, I hoped he just wanted a little space and we’d pick up when he got back, but no. He’d shuddered out of his catatonic state.
“Uh, I dunno, a year, two, who knows? There’s a big wide world out there to explore Leander, I’ll just go see what happens.”
Yes, there’s a big wide world out there that I knew Erik wanted to explore too. When we first got together he’d wanted to explore it with me. We’d talked about travelling to Europe, South America, Australia. He’d actually put his plan into action—and it cut deeply that he’d done it behind my back and never once considered inviting me.
He excused his behavior with a nonchalant shrug. “Sorry Lea, I kinda realized we’re on different paths.”
How was I to know this was what he wanted if he’d never told me? The long and the short of it was that Erik wanted to do other things—Erik didn’t want to do me! His plans never included me and he’d been planning his escape for the whole of our final year. I’d felt like such a fool for even thinking we had a future.
They say that you only see a partner’s true colours when a relationship ends. I never believed that, I thought I knew Erik, really knew him inside out—until he dumped me and I learned the hard way just how true that saying was. The cutthroat way he ended us was his true face, and so, after years of wondering how fantastic it would feel to graduate and begin my journey to adulthood, my graduation wasn’t the celebration I’d dreamed about. It was a guillotine on my dreams of a life with Erik Nordstrom.
When Erik left I told myself not to dwell on what I’d lost and look to the future. I pushed my grief down inside, and I bricked it up behind a wall. I was in survival mode. I needed a job, and I’d have taken any employment to ensure I didn’t wallow in my grief.
Lady luck was on my side one day while book shopping and before I knew it I was an employee of The Book Nook, a cute bookstore in the Boho district in the city. I now sold books, served coffee, and helped out with book-related art classes, like bookbinding and calligraphy, which were taught by Gretchen Baum my boss. Most of the friends I’d known while with Erik sided with him and they vanished like rats on a sinking ship after graduation, and so over the past couple of years my colleagues in The Book Nook were my social life, and Gretchen had become my new best friend.
Working at The Book Nook was supposed to be a temporary measure for my sanity and until my real career as an Editor took off. And two years later I was still here. The Book Nook was a safe space, and my three co-workers were my second family. If I’m honest, I’d kinda gotten into a rut, but one that I wasn’t too worried about. I discovered that it was a rare thing to find a job that you love. Going to work in the morning was something I looked forward to, and even though I adored the minutiae and attention to detail required for editing, I’ve surprised myself with how suited I am to book selling.
I keep telling myself that I’m comfortable with my life alone—without a selfish asshole of a boyfriend, but then I recall how good it feels to be touched, to be kissed, licked, sucked, and fucked. I miss snuggling most of all. And so there a re nights I lay there and I scroll through the profiles of guys on GoodBod and wonder, what if? What if I put myself out there again?
While my work life at The Book Nook was happy, the dreams I’d held so dear while at university fell like petals around my feet. I’d wanted to get an internship with a publisher and work my way up the ladder, but I’d lost interest in pursuing the career I’d targeted my education on. The only item on my ‘Life List’ that had been ticked off was buying my own home. I’d invested the inheritance my grandfather left me and purchased 66 Little Brook Mews outright. So, now I was settled, nested, and I had the love of a temperamental kitty.
My spare time was filled with working on my house and my garden. It wasn’t a large garden, but it backed onto the park, so I wasn’t overlooked. The wall at the end of my garden was twice as tall as me, and from the colour of the stone, I could see that a past owner had bricked up what was once a doorway from my garden into the park. The blocked doorway to the park resonated with me. It felt significant that I’d shut the door to my heart and wouldn’t let any man get close. I sometimes sit on my lounger and look at that blocked up space and wonder what would happen if I decided to reinstate the door. What would happen if I found the strength to open the door to my heart?
****
CHAPTER 2
JAKE
I didn’t miss much about England, apart from footy, proper chocolate, my mum, and my mates!
I worked as a Structural Engineer for Andersen Inc. The job was way better than I could have found in the U.K, and the salary was very nice indeed.
Living in the United States was a mixture of culture shock and a dream come true. I still couldn’t fathom how I’d gotten here to this place in my life. I was thirty-one, single, living in the U.S and working on multi-billion dollar developments while my university mates were mostly working in English local council’s dealing with planning permission and dodgy high rise building issues.
I had an enviable lifestyle. I lived in a serviced apartment that was paid for by my company, I hit the gym three times a week, and with dating apps like Goodbod, I had an everlasting supply of spicy American sausage in all its varied flavors! After all, it’s true that all work and no play makes Jake a dull boy!
Happy days! You sound like you’ve got it all Jake! Well, nearly. A few things were missing in my life. One of them was a lover. My regular friends-with-benefits arrangement had recently become a friendship without the benefits! And the other thing missing was football—not the American style, not the dress-up-in-body-armour-and-barrel-one-another-over kind of football, English football—proper football, what the American’s call… uggh… Soccer.
I used to play five-aside during my Uni days and I’d looked forward to a kick-about with my mates every Saturday. I looked back at those days with nostalgia. I missed the camaraderie of being part of a team, and so, I decided I would start up a kick-about team of my own.
My local park was called Little Brook Park. It was the handiest location for a Saturday game. After posting an ad on the Little Brook Facebook page, I began the task of checking through the response messages and weeding out the timewasters. I assembled a group of Brits all of whom were all missing the male bonding ritual of a kick-about with their mates back home. We called ourselves the X-Patz.
For the past six months, we’d played footie at Little Brook Park each Saturday. It was a nice park not too far from my apartment. By the time we got there and set up our inflatable goals the morning joggers, dog walkers, and the outdoor Yoga class had all left the park. We shared the space with mums with prams, kids on bikes heading for the play area, and a few old people who liked to feed the pigeons.
My team was a diverse bunch. Steve and Mike were like me, gay. They worked in corporate finance. Troy and Byron were trans dudes and computer nerds who both worked in IT. Matty was Bi and he was an illustrator. The rest of the team were straight, Dave was a ‘Vinny Jones’ look-alike with a similar attitude on the pitch! I didn’t know much about him. Sanjiv was British Asian and worked in pharmaceuticals, Chi was British Chinese and worked for an accountancy firm. Our star player Ajay was British Caribbean and was much in demand as a personal trainer. Little Brook was his training ground and so it suited him to add a game of footie on a Saturday and network at the same time.
Ajay’s wife Oti and baby son Benji would always come to the games. They’d look after our belongings and watch us play, and if there were any bad tackles Oti was the referee had the final say. We’d pull names out of a baseball cap to split the ten of us into two teams of five.
Our football games were pretty relaxed and informal to begin with. But as the months went on I noticed some egos clashing, especially between myself and Troy.
****
It was the third Saturday in December. The day was warm and the sky a beautiful baby blue. I still couldn’t quite get my head around heat in December. I knew that back home they’d be wrapped up in jumpers and woolly hats by now. Troy and I had clashed a couple of times already and I could feel the attitude rolling off him in waves. I didn’t know what I’d done to piss him off but we were on the same team for this game so I hoped he’d behave himself.
I was running with the ball readying to pass it. I had the choice of Matty or Troy. I decided to pass it to Troy, I locked my eyes on him, and with the unsaid understanding of a teammate he ran into position, ready to take a shot at the goal. I kicked the ball awkwardly and it flew towards Troy…then bounced off his shoulder and went flying high and wide over the wall and into the garden of one of the houses that backed onto Little Brook Park.
“Fuuuhhk, “ I roared at seeing the ball vanish. I stood with my hands on my hips frustrated and out of breath,
“What the hell!” A man shouted from the garden.
I turned and looked at my teammates. Troy stalked towards me, puffed out his chest, and got right in my face.
“What the ever-loving fuck was that?” He snarled
“What? You were in the wrong position!” I insisted.
“That wasn’t my fault; maybe learn to kick a fucking ball properly?” He retorted aggressively pushing his chest against mine like a rutting stag.
“You could have stepped back and intercepted!” I challenged, using my chest to push him straight back.
“You could have kicked straight. You might want to get your eyes tested Jakey-boy!”
I hated it when he called me that name and I knew he did it to wind me up.
“Guys, cut it out!” Oti shouted at us, and reluctantly Troy stepped back from me.
All ten of us stood on the field puffed out with our hands on our hips staring at the garden wall. We were completely ball-less.
“Go on then,” Matty badgered, “You know the rules, you kicked it over, you fucking get it!”
I tightened my jaw. Matty was correct, there was an unwritten law of kick-about that if a ball is kicked out of bounds it’s the kicker who does the walk of shame and retrieves it. I was annoyed with myself, annoyed with Troy for moving that extra inch so the ball missed its original target.
“Go on, whatcha waiting for, Christmas?” Dave hollered. The holiday was only a week away, not that you’d know by the balmy weather.
Chi, Byron, Sanjiv and Dave started chanting at me. “Go on—go on—go on—go on—go on.” I gritted my teeth and then in defeat said,
“Okay, okay, shut the fuck up. I’ll get it.”
I jogged across the field to the boundary wall. I knew that there was a man in that garden and by the sound of it he wasn’t happy. I stood awkwardly, looked up at the wall and then called,
“Uh, hello, ’scuse me mate.” God, I felt like I was ten years old again standing outside Mrs. Wiley’s house hoping she wouldn’t set her Alsatian on me.
“Can we have our ball back please?” I shouted in my best British accent.
The reply from the man came swift and waspish. “No, go away.”
“Uhhh. Sorry? Whadaya mean no? I said please!” I was stunned by the rudeness. I had said please.
