Free Bad Boy Brit (A British Bad Boy Romance) by Caitlin Daire, Avery Wilde

pitch.
    For me, it was an incredible relief to, if only for a morning, shed the mantle of the Liam Croft character which I spent so much time playing, and finally be myself, a man who unashamedly loved what he did. The media’s version of me could never admit that he was the luckiest man in the world, could never say that he adored every second he spent on the pitch—that jackass was supposed to think he deserved it all for his God-given talent, was supposed to consider the game boring and easy.
    Truth be told, I hated the false Liam with a passion that I’d been forced to conceal for all too long.
    “What are your goals for the future?” Allison asked, her pen poised.
    “Keep playing as long as I can,” I replied. I went on, realizing that this was an opportunity to voice a long-held dream for the first time. “Maybe do a bit of good as well, if I can.”
    Allison’s brow furrowed adorably in interest. “What sort of good?”
    “Well…” I edged forward on my chair, excited to finally say something that I hadn’t even shared with Dean. “Football got me off the streets. It saved my life, gave me something to care about and, of course, gave me a career. But I came to it by chance. It was luck, nothing more. There’s an awful lot of kids out there whose lives now are like mine and Dean’s were back then, kids who desperately need help and would give anything for something to focus their energy on. Football isn’t just a game; it teaches discipline, teamwork, sportsmanship. Stuff that’s useful whatever you do in life. I’m planning to start a foundation to help these kids. I needed luck, but they shouldn’t have to. They won’t all end up professional players—almost none of them will—but it’ll give them a place to belong and to be happy and to learn some life skills.”
    I smiled without really realizing that I was doing it. “Sometimes all you need is something to live for. And that can be anything,” I added.
    “That’s amazing,” Allison said quietly.
    “And that’s only half of it,” I said, warming to the new topic. “Football’s just like the public face of the foundation—it’s what I know. Once it’s established as part of the community, we can go out looking for kids who are in trouble, we can give them a place to live, people to care for them, proper medical care; whatever they need. You know, not all kids want to play football, I don’t want to leave out the ones who don’t, I want to help them all.” I paused in my flow, realizing that all this sounded like pie-in-the-sky nonsense. “It’s all a bit vague. I don’t actually know how it would work or…I just don’t want any kids to grow up like I did.”
    Although I’d been looking at Allison all through this over-enthusiastic spiel, it was only now that I really looked at her face, and I found her staring at me in quiet wonder.
    “That’s amazing,” she repeated, and with a thrill, I realized that she meant it.
    It’d been an odd morning, partly because I’d spoken of so many things, good and bad; things I’d never talked about before. The whole experience had left me feeling strangely energized, but it was also odd because I’d been focused wholly on the interview and its subject, and although the subject had been myself, I didn’t think that a single arrogant word had passed my lips. It was news to me that a person could talk about themselves for any length of time without being a smug prick about it. Finally, it had also been odd because I still felt a very real attraction to Allison; an attraction that seeing her in my bed this morning had only enhanced.
    And yet I hadn’t made a move. Moreover, during the whole of the interview I hadn’t dropped a single hint or innuendo. It was like I was a different person right now.
    Much as I liked being a different person, I was also very aware that the interview was now at an end and Allison was about to walk out of my life. It startled me to realize just how