Chapter Six

Gateshead International Stadium had always been one of Ethan’s favourite venues. That was not just because it was close to home—less than forty minutes’ drive from his house—but it had the best atmosphere of any stadium he’d ever competed at, save for the Olympics in London 2012. Things were no different now that he was a commentator on the games rather than a participant. He always felt a warm, familiar glow when he arrived at the grounds.

Today it was even more evident, because he had something else on his mind beside athletics. Alex. Ethan’s anticipation of seeing the man had grown across the week. Yesterday afternoon, he’d cracked and sent Alex a text for the first time. He’d resisted the temptation for days, hoping Alex would be the one to make the first move. When Friday came without a word, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

 

Hi. How are you? Looking forward to catching up with you in Gateshead tomorrow. Are you traveling over tonight?

 

Nice and casual, but with more than a hint that he wanted to see him.

Alex had replied over an hour later.

 

Hi. I’m good, thanks. It will be great to see you again. I’m driving over early in the morning. See you at the stadium.

 

He could have sounded a bit more enthusiastic, Ethan thought, but maybe Alex was playing things cool too.

Last night he’d gone to bed like an excited five-year-old on Christmas Eve, and this morning he’d leapt up at six a.m. to take an early run before getting ready for what lay ahead.

This was a single-day competition. Ethan was one of eight specialist commentators for the coverage, which would run across BBC Two and various streaming and radio platforms. The running events, which would be the main focus of his attention, were not scheduled until the afternoon and early evening, but with the coverage starting at eleven, he had to be there for the opening proceedings, as well as to record interviews and inserts to be used as filler between races.

He also hoped to spot Alex before it all kicked off, but there would be a very slim chance of that. The stadium was huge, and even in the media section, the radio teams occupied different commentary boxes from the TV crews. Even so, he didn’t want to miss an opportunity.

Once he had checked in and spent a few minutes in the make-up room getting TV-ready, Ethan headed to the green room where brunch was being served. He’d already eaten, but this would be the best place to find Alex. Like most hospitality suites, it was busy when he arrived. Ethan scouted the crowd as he moved around the room, searching for one face. He saw several people he recognised but avoided eye contact in order to keep moving.

He made it to the refreshment counter and helped himself to a bottle of mineral water. There was still no sign of Alex.

Ethan’s spirit slumped a little.

There was no reason he should have expected to see him in there. It wasn’t like they had made a date or anything. “See you at the stadium.” That was what Alex had said in the text—not “meet me for brunch.”

He checked his phone in case he’d missed any messages. Nothing.

Bummer.

“Hey, my friend, good to see you.”

Ethan turned at the sound of an unmistakable voice. Rory Evans, a former Olympic long jumper, had a rich Welsh brogue. No amount of time abroad had ever lessened his accent. Rory was in his late forties—Black, bald, beautiful and always cheerful. He greeted Ethan with a massive grin and came in, arms wide open for a hug.

“It’s great to see you too,” Ethan said.

Rory wouldn’t be so bold as to make a grab for Ethan’s arse in public, but he put one hand on Ethan’s waist and allowed his fingers to rest on the top curve of his butt. Rory held the embrace for several lingering moments.

“You’re looking mighty fine,” he said.

Ethan stepped back, laughing but conscious that he didn’t want Alex to find him locked in an embrace with Rory. “You, too. You never look anything less.”

“It gets harder and harder every day,” Rory said. “But you know exactly how hard it gets, don’t you, buddy?” He winked.

Rory and Ethan had had an on-off thing going for the last two years. It was barely anything at all, just a couple of horny guys who helped each other when they were away from home. As Rory was another of Melanie’s clients, they frequently found themselves commentating on the same sports events and staying in the same hotels. Coming from similar backgrounds, they had clicked in the bar one night after a tournament in London. Ethan hadn’t known Rory was gay for sure at the time—he’d always suspected—but the long jumper had yet to come out in public. One drink had led to five and Ethan had finished the night in Rory’s room.

They’d hooked up several times since then, but it was nothing major. Ethan liked Rory well enough, and for an older guy he was smoking hot, but it was never anything more than sex. He hoped Rory wasn’t entertaining ideas about something similar this weekend. Ethan had his sights set on a different prize.

Rory’s next comments made his intentions clear. “So, are you staying over tonight? They’re putting me up at Malmaison in Newcastle. How about you?”

“No, I don’t live far away. I’m going home after this.”

“Oh, that’s right. I remember now. This is your neck of woods up here, isn’t it? Local boy.”

“It is.”

“How about showing me around? I don’t know much about this area other than the stadium and the little I saw of the hotel this morning. I could use someone like you, somebody with local knowledge, to show me the hot spots.” He gave a dirty laugh to punctuate the last comment. “What do you say? You’ve always shown me a good time before.”

“You get a gold medal for persistence,” Ethan said, trying to sound good-natured. He and Rory would likely share a small commentary booth for the rest of the day. It would be a bad idea to piss him off before they started. “But I’ve got a lot going on right now. I’m not in the mood for a late night or hitting the town.”

“We’ll see.” Rory grinned. “The day has just begun. I reckon I can change your mind by the end of it.”

Ethan laughed it off, though there was no chance of anything happening. There had never been a big spark between him and Rory. They fancied each other, but it was purely physical. And having slept with him half a dozen times, the novelty had pretty much worn off. Alex or no Alex, Ethan was certain he would not end the night in Rory Evans’ bed.

At ten-thirty, Ethan and Rory were called to the track to get together with the other presenters and commentators before the event began. They gave their on-camera opinions on what the expectations of the day were.

“On the field, I would keep an eye on Moses Adebayo from America and our very own Chris Hauer,” Ethan said, giving his best smile to the presenter. “The four hundred meters will be a two-man race, I feel—and a very exciting one at that. Keep an eye on those guys. They are the ones to beat.”

Afterwards, Ethan didn’t have a lot to do for most of the morning and the afternoon. He returned to the green room and watched some of the gymnastics from there. He tweeted along with the live broadcast and tried to stay as active as he could to pass the time. Melanie texted to say she’d watched his introduction and that he’d done well.

Remember, eye contact and teeth when you’re on camera. Make the audience fall in love with you, she’d written.

When Alex failed to appear at lunchtime, Ethan asked around about him, and learned he was doing the coverage for a sport radio station. Their booth was located on the other side of the stadium. Frustrated, Ethan sent him a text.

 

Hey, how’s it going? Don’t you guys get a lunch break?

 

After fifteen minutes, the reply came through.

 

We’re working through. Had sandwiches brought in. No rest for the wicked. I’ll catch you for a drink later.

 

Huh. Ethan stared at the screen and re-read the text several times. There didn’t appear to be much interest there, and little more than a ‘matey promise’ to see each other afterwards. Maybe he’d misread the situation the past week and Alex hadn’t been interested in him at all. Either that or he’d cooled off.

Ethan’s mood darkened. He’d been looking forward to today so much, more for Alex than any of the sporting activities, and now it had been taken away. How could he have been so wrong?

At three-thirty, he took up his position in the commentary box. Rory was already there, shit-eating grin in situ when Ethan entered. The booth was cramped, and he had to squeeze between the two chairs from behind to take his seat.

Rory reached over and gave his groin an appreciative pat. “I’d forgotten how much you were packing in there,” he laughed.

Ethan jerked away and sat down. “Don’t do that.”

“What’s the matter, man? You were never shy about sharing it before. Quite the opposite.”

“We have a job to do, all right. We’re broadcasting internationally. I want to focus.”

Rory scoffed. “And I want some cock. All I’m asking for is a promise for later.”

“No,” Ethan asserted.

Rory tutted. “Whatever. What is it? Your time of the month?”

Ethan ignored him and focused on the job in hand. Though they had a prime view of the stadium from the upper level, he concentrated on the action he could see on the monitor in front of him. Professional commentary required him to provide almost instant insight into the events as they unfolded. As good as his eyesight was, he couldn’t do that from this distance.

The day passed quickly in the excitement of the tournament. Even Rory settled down and focused on the track. The main event, the four-hundred-meter race, didn’t take place until almost nine. By then, the atmosphere in the crowd was electric.

As was always the case when he reported on these competitions, Ethan experienced a deep sense of regret as he watched the young athletes below. It could have been—should have been him down there. At thirty-six, he could still have had another good year or two in him if the damned injuries hadn’t finished his career prematurely. Ethan had been a sprinter—the one-hundred and two-hundred-meter races were his thing—but he’d always managed a good time at the four-hundred too. He watched the men take their position on the start line with a growing sense of sadness.

As he’d predicted earlier, it was a two-man race. The American Moses Adebayo and British star Chris Hauer flew ahead of the pack and were neck and neck all the way, until the young Englishman put on a sudden burst of speed for the last ten metres and raced over the finish line.

The crowd in the stadium went wild.

Ethan and Rory were on their feet in celebration. Ethan didn’t even object when Rory came in for a hug and his hand wandered to Ethan’s arse.

After providing the commentary as Chris Hauer collected his gold medal, Ethan’s job was done for the day. His thoughts immediately turned back to Alex. He switched off his mike and pulled out his phone.

 

Where should I meet you? he wrote in a text and hit send.

 

“How about a drink?” Rory asked. “Don’t know about you, but I’m parched after all that talking.”

“Sorry. I’ve got a date.” A date. The words were out of Ethan’s mouth before he realised.

“Oh, you have, have you?” Rory was not smiling anymore. “Who with?”

“Never mind. It doesn’t concern you.”

“Does Melanie know about this?”

“What does she have to do with it?”

“That woman is bending over backwards to carve out a new career for you. You can’t get a reputation for shagging around, not now.”

“I didn’t know my career was such a hot topic,” he said, unable to keep his annoyance from his voice.

“Everyone knows you’re desperate to do Strictly this year. I’m just looking out for you. You need to keep your nose clean if you want to get on a prime-time telly show like that one.”

“Thanks for the advice,” he said. “But I’m not desperate for anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got somewhere better to be.”

 

* * * *

 

Alex sent a reply to Ethan’s text to say he was staying at a hotel on the Gateshead side of the River Tyne, close to the famous Sage building, and he would be in the bar there at eleven o’clock. Ethan knew the area well. After washing off the TV make-up and sprucing himself up in the bathroom, he got in his car and headed in that direction.

At that time on a Saturday night, the traffic was clear, and he pulled into the hotel car park at quarter past. His pulse quickened as he entered the foyer and followed the signs to the bar. Crazy… He realised he was more nervous now than he’d been broadcasting live this evening.

He heard music and loud conversation before he reached the bar. It sounded like a real party. Ethan paused and took a couple of deep breaths at the door. His hands trembled.

Okay, he told himself, let’s do this.

The bar was full when he entered. It looked like a large percentage of the broadcasting team were staying here. And after a long day at the stadium, they were hitting the booze hard. The waiting staff were rushed off their feet, trying to meet the demands of the crowd. Ethan looked around, dismayed, not seeing Alex anywhere. And even if he found him, what chance would they have to be alone among this mob?

At that moment, he was stopped by a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, I was worried you wouldn’t make it.” The voice was unmistakable. Ethan had been listening to it all week.

“Hi,” he said, spinning around to face Alex. “This is a lively party.”

“Yeah. I didn’t expect there to be quite this many people here.” Those lovely eyes twinkled in their customary way.

Alex was a knock-out. The sight of him caused Ethan’s breath to quicken. He wore a light sports jacket and white crew-neck T-shirt underneath. His tousled hair was brushed back off his brow and he looked a good two days unshaved, giving him a sexy, dishevelled appearance. Ethan realised that in listening to Alex’s voice all week, he’d actually forgotten how damn good-looking the man was.

“Want to fight our way to the bar?” Ethan asked. “I can’t see us attracting one of those waiters any time soon.”

“Actually, I’ve already got a bottle of wine on the go. Chardonnay, if you’re all right with that.”

“Perfect.”

Alex grinned. “Then follow me. There’s a quiet area out there. I grabbed a table as soon as I arrived. I must have had some kind of premonition that things would get busy.”

Ethan followed him to another room on the front of the hotel. There were five leather sofas and armchairs arranged around low coffee tables, and a floor-to-ceiling glass front, which looked clear across the river. On the opposite bank, the bars and restaurants of the Newcastle Quayside were packed with revellers. For many people, the night was just getting started. Ethan didn’t envy any of them. He couldn’t think of a better place to be than this quiet room with Alex.

Alex sat in one of the armchairs. Ethan noted the bottle of wine in an ice bucket and two glasses. He smiled, recognising that Alex had arranged this for the two of them. He hadn’t been deluded imagining that there was an attraction between them.

“Good day, wasn’t it?” Alex said, picking up the bottle and pouring.

“It was,” Ethan replied, omitting the fact that he’d rather have been in a booth with Alex all day than stuck with Rory. He accepted the glass from Alex. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” They clinked their glasses.

“Good choice,” Ethan said, tasting the wine. “This is lovely.”

“Mm-m,” Alex said appreciatively.

Their eyes locked across the table. Then came the uncomfortable silence. It was ironic, considering Alex had written a book about him. Ethan broke the stillness with a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Alex asked, his eyes sparkling in the low light.

“This is, I suppose. The two of us, after all this time. Talking together, rather than talking shit about each other.”

“I seem to remember you were the outspoken one. I don’t think I’ve ever gone on record to criticise you.”

Ethan held his hands up. “Guilty as charged. I used to have a hot head and a mean mouth on me in the past. A cliched redhead, you could say.”

“Have you changed that much?”

“I hope so. I like to think I have. The boy you wrote about? He was just a kid. In his twenties, for sure, but a spoiled kid at heart. I think that’s the reason your book hurt so much at the time, because it was the truth and I didn’t want to admit as much. I was a shit.”

Alex sipped the wine. Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off the guy’s wide mouth. “You were committed to your sport, to the exclusion of everything else. That’s not so unusual, especially for people who make it to the top of their game. You have to be single-minded to get there.”

“I know. I just wish I could have been a bit nicer about it. I didn’t realise until it was over, when the opportunity to compete was gone, how little else I had in life. I had a lot of colleagues and yes-men and people who were paid to look after me. Take them away, and I soon realised I had no proper friends. I’d alienated them all along my path.”

“At least you’re insightful enough to see that now. Not everyone gets there. Some people are arseholes until the day they die.”

“That’s the truth,” Ethan said, his mind flashing on Rory for some reason. He took another sip of wine.

A man and woman in their thirties came into the room, obviously looking for the same respite as they had from the main bar. It was a relief to see them take their drinks to the sofa farthest away, more into each other than noticing Ethan and Alex.

“How long are you staying here?” he asked.

“Just tonight,” Alex said.

“Oh.” There was no hiding his disappointment. “Do you have anything to hurry back for?”

A smile hovered over his lips. “Not really. I have an article to write, but it doesn’t have to be in until Monday.”

Encouraged, Ethan went all in. “How about having lunch with me tomorrow? My place isn’t far from here. I’d like to show you round a little and send you on your way with a full stomach.”

The smile widened into a grin. “A lunch invitation from the winner of Celebrity Top Cook. I’d be mad to turn that down.”

“Oh, now I have something to live up to.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve already exceeded all my expectations.”

“Thanks…I think.” Ethan finished his wine. There was a warmth in his face that nothing to do with the alcohol.

Alex reached for the bottle. “Top up?”

“I’d love to, but I’ve got the car. I don’t dare.” He thought for a minute. “Although… How did you get here? Did you drive?”

“No, I caught the train.”

“But you do drive?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, how does this sound? I’ll have another drink or two tonight and get a taxi home. I’ll leave the car here, then you can drive it back when you come for lunch tomorrow? You only need to hit ‘home’ on the sat nav and it will guide you all the way.”

“You’d trust me with your car?”

“Why?” He grinned. “Shouldn’t I? Got something you want to tell me?”

Alex laughed. The smile not only illuminated his face, but it seemed to Ethan like it lit up the entire room. “I have nothing to declare,” he said, picking up the bottle and refilling Ethan’s glass.

Ethan relaxed into his seat.

Things can’t be going better.