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Joq didn’t get to answer because there was a knock on George’s door.
George frowned. “Hang on.”
He was up and out of view, but Joq could hear Finn’s voice clear enough. “Hey, you busy?”
“Just talking to Joq,” George said, his voice coming closer, the door clicking shut. “Thought you were going out with the SANFL guys?”
“I was,” Finn leaned down and waved at the screen; that stupid little wave he always did. “Am. Hey, Joq.”
“Finn,” Joq smiled. It felt like he smiled.
“Just, Danny texted about going to some club,” Joq couldn’t see much beyond their groins, but he could see Finn plucking at his button-up. “I think this is too dressy? Can I borrow one of yours?”
“Sure,” George said, then leaned back to the screen. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Make sure you go for us.”
Joq laughed, uneasy. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that,” George smiled and then he must’ve slammed the laptop shut.
Joq sat back. Did Finn really need a shirt? Was that transparent as fuck or was Joq completely paranoid?
Were they fucking in that hotel room right now? Worse, kissing before Finn went out for the night with the promise to return to George’s bed later? Worse still, were they cuddling and kissing on the bed while they watched some replay together? Even worse: was George confiding in fucking Finn about that article?
Fuck it. Joq pulled the USB stick out of the bin, plugged it into the portal and opened it. There was one video file. He clicked on it. His hand had a faint tremor.
“Jesus,” he said out loud. You know they’re fucking, you know they’re fucking like that, nothing new is gonna be seen here.
He took a deep breath and watched. The screen was dark, but Joq made out the oval at the centre of the stadium. Empty. No, someone was in the middle. The lights came on: a blinding explosion of light.
Finn was in the middle of the oval, football in hand, his smile growing as he looked somewhere off to the side. George appeared, jogging over to him, his brown hair wavy and bouncing, his answering smile moving around whatever he was saying as he came closer. Finn bounced the ball, said something, then took off, heading for the goals, George charging hard behind him.
Joq had forgotten how magnificent George looked when he played. He settled in to watch and all they did was play. Kicking to each other, kicking on goal, and okay, George lifted Finn with a bit too much enthusiasm when he kicked a belter from the fifty metre mark, and Finn’s hands were on George’s ass a little too much when he tackled him, but unless someone was actually looking for it, there was nothing in it.
He watched as they both looked up at the same time. The security guard. George jogged over. Then he was signing an autograph for the guy, Finn ambling over to do the same.
There was nothing in it. Nothing other than an inappropriate training session one on one between a coach and his star rookie. But even that was arguable.
The video jump cut to them heading down the tunnel, friendly hip and shoulders, mouths moving as they talked.
Joq realised Alison had edited this. She’d been on call. She’d taken the security call. She knew it was George. She’d come in early to check the footage and then decided to carefully edit this video. For Joq. He felt uneasy then. He knew Alison liked him, liked working for him. He also knew she didn’t like what she’d seen in that kiss.
Joq watched them strip in the change room, still talking, laughing. He watched as they headed into the showers. He took a deep breath, hoping and not hoping she hadn’t pulled up the footage from the showers.
She had. Finn was under his own shower, George next to him. Nothing in it. Good, Joq exhaled, still firmly in denial.
Finn was the one who moved. Joq didn’t know why that surprised him, but it did. Finn turned off his shower and slid behind George under his spray. He wrapped his arms around George’s waist, kissed his nape. George leaned back against him, craned his head back to say something. It was unbearably intimate. Joq wanted to turn it off. He’d seen this too, or a version of it; it still unsettled him, made him squirm.
George tugged Finn in front of him, pressed him against the tiles; and the expression on Finn’s face was heated, turned on, but that’s not all it was—it was adoring, it was naked and full of feeling. He was hiding nothing. George kissed him.
Finn’s hand slipped down.
George stopped him. He said something against Finn’s lips before reaching over to turn the tap off.
And, well, this was all pretty damning in the wrong hands. Joq couldn’t believe George was being this fucking stupid, but as he watched them leave together—the footage jumping to them in the locker room, a careful distance apart as they got dressed—he realised the only really damning part was in the shower. And it was reasonable to assume George would think he was safe there—who wouldn’t? It was a massive privacy violation to film in there and the only reason they had it was on an as-needs basis. No one was supposed to see this, even look for it. Alison had. And Joq knew why.
But as they were leaving, walking back up the tunnel and George stopped to turn the lights off, Joq wondered why she edited this part in when he saw it—George reached out and took Finn’s hand. He slid their fingers together in a tight clasp. Their backs were to the tunnel, their bodies almost out of the shot, but there was enough light on the security footage for Joq to see it as George brought their joint hands up and kissed Finn’s knuckles. They paused at the mouth of the tunnel, George’s eyes looking up as Finn watched him back. George lowered their hands, tugged Finn in close, and their hands were still joined as they disappeared out of the shot.
Joq sank back in his chair. If he was waiting for a point for his denial to abate, this was it. He sat up and jumped back to the point where they were in the shower. He paused it. Minimised the video.
