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“You’re miserable, aren’t you?” Will asked, pulling his eyes away from the match to give Kim a sympathetic look.
”Miserable. Mmm. No, not miserable, though certainly not comfortable,” Kim replied, his eyes barely visible under the flat wool cap he’d had Peacock procure him for the occasion.
”Do you want to leave?”
”Of course not. I want you to enjoy yourself. You know you don’t have to worry about me.”
”And you know I never, for a single second, stop worrying about you.” Will gave an exasperated sigh that only half hid his smile. “These days, I even get paid for it.”
”Right, well, a little mud in the Terrace is hardly the level of danger we’re used to.” Kim tapped his finger lightly against Will’s temple, giving it a gentle nudge to turn his face back to the pitch. “I mean it. I came here to experience something you are…passionate about.” Kim blew a breath out through his nose before adding, “up the blues,” and turning back to the match.
The noise of the crowd rolled over them as the opposing striker ran downfield, controlling the ball with only a single defender in his path. Somehow, the man sent his shoulders to the left, while his feet went right, faking past the defender for a clear shot on goal. Even Kim, in his ignorance, could feel the tension in the air as the striker sent a clean kick to the lower left corner of the goal.
The goalkeeper dove to get his hands on the ball, swiping at it with just enough contact to deflect it back onto the field, where, thankfully, a Chelsea defender was ready. Taking control, he ran it back towards the center line.
“That Clarke is a right custodian. Nothing gets past him,” Will said, more to himself than to Kim, but Kim replied anyway. “So zero-zero is the normal state of this game? Thrilling.”
”You don’t find it exciting at all? Not even a close call like that?” Will asked, getting closer to Kim to be heard above the din.
There was a beat before Kim answered, “The match itself? No. Well, not really. I don’t really care about one side or the other. But I can certainly appreciate…” he let himself trail off while finding the right phrasing, “I can certainly appreciate certain displays of athleticism.”
Will pursed his lips at this typically ‘Kimmish’ response. “I see. And are there certain ‘displays of athleticism’ you find particularly appealing?”
Kim considered for a moment, watching the pitch. “Definitely number 7,” he said, indicating a broad-shouldered defender, whose sandy blonde hair was slick with sweat, “and number 3 as well.”
Will thought for a moment. He had been to The Bridge half a dozen times in the last few years, and watched every match with excitement, but he’d never watched the players like that. These were not men, they were football players, the same way any chap in his shop was simply a customer.
Now that Kim had put the idea in his head, it was unavoidable. He suddenly found himself focused on number 3’s legs, his gaze traveling upwards from the striped socks that suddenly seemed deliciously restrictive, to the bare bit of thigh above them, finally landing on the suggestion of a firm arse below loose white knickers. The player’s jersey was partially untucked above his left arse cheek, and Will was startled by a flash of curiosity.
He knew Kim was watching him, and made sure to keep his face carefully neutral as he watched number 3 receive a pass from a teammate, trapping the ball gracefully before pivoting towards the goal. “Yes, he is…skilled.”
Kim continued casually, “Quite beautiful, I would say. And yet, the umpire can still bring any one of them to heel.”
”Umpire? This is not cricket, my lordship. He’s a referee.”
“Right. Referee. The most powerful man in this arena.” Kim leaned closer to Will to add, “Intriguing, isn’t it?”
Will was determined not to let Kim provoke him. Kim, with his lightly peppery scent cutting through a miasma of stale beer. Kim, with his cheekbones sculpted by one of the old masters. Kim, beautifully elegant even here in the mud, in a working man’s overcoat, trying to look common.
Kim, who could provoke anything he wanted of Will and knew it.
Will allowed himself a smile as he replied, “Well, then, perhaps it is time I bought myself a whistle.”