Just as the team was dispersing, Joss caught hold of Gawin’s forearm, his unstable legs almost giving out. Gawin threw him a surprised look, helping him straighten up.
Their teammates were scattering around, gathering their stuff before heading to the changing rooms.
Joss inched closer, his fingers still wrapped around the singer’s arm.
“Let’s go eat something. I’m paying,” he said, softly.
Gawin pinched his lips, stormy-eyed.
“Come on. I’ll buy you pizza,” Joss continued, his thumb tracing the hollow of Gawin’s wrist, feeling a jump underneath his fingertip. “Please.”
Seeing Gawin so upset was tearing him apart. It was worse than a rejection, worse than a heartbreak. Joss couldn’t bear to be responsible for the hurt in Gawin’s eyes.
Gawin tore his arm free, his face colouring to a lovely, rosy pink.
He nodded, looking away. “Alright.”
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