Chapter 10 - Feelings In Truce

“Dude, I swear, if the temperature gets any higher, I'm gonna melt.”

The three of us are sitting with backs to the net of the tennis court, waiting for the last few minutes before our practice begins. One of the teachers we were supposed to have in the next period was absent due to a stomach infection, so we had two long hours without doing anything, which would be great if the fucking weather didn't ruin the whole thing.

“I'm going to ask the swim team for permission to use the pool for the rest of the day.” Nate grunts, pulling out a notebook from the backpack to fan himself.

“Do you take it as an excuse so you can see some asses for free?” I mock and he rolls the eyes.

“Don't I see enough of that in the locker room?”

“Hey, but maybe you don't like them big or stocky, but thin and flexible.” Steve shrugs. Two new players have entered the court and are practicing with the rackets before starting.

“If your description includes breasts and vaginas, then you're right.” Nate snorts, with a sideways smile. Meanwhile, the tennis match begins with a strong and skillful serve by one of the players.

“I can't take this.” I growl and open the buttons on my shirt. “It's too damn hot.”

“I encourage exhibitionism.” Steve nods with a smile, also taking off his shirt.

“If you go, then so do I.” Nate says casually, imitating our action.

“Coach better hurry up, or I'll be a big puddle of slime by the time he gets here.” I don't remove my shirt completely to avoid sunstroke as my skin gets irritated quite easily. I only open the front as much as necessary to relieve the choking sensation.

“Wind, come to me!” Steve cries out dramatically, reaching out his arms and sighing with relief when a cool breeze comforts us.

“If we get in trouble for walking around half-naked, I'll tell everyone it was your idea.” Nate hangs the shirt from the waistband of his pants and crosses the arms.

“The only problem we'll have is if we don't do something about those cute little bunnies sitting on a bench at my three o'clock.” Steve points almost imperceptibly with the head, Nate and I take a discreet peek.

And indeed, there are three girls sitting with legs exposed due to the tiny skirts they wear, hanging below their waists, watching us with obvious interest. They are beautiful, I must admit, but neither my mind nor my dick seems to be in the mood at the moment. Especially if the only thing I can think of is James sitting too close—too much for my taste—to Sam Collins. It was not a pleasant surprise... at all.

“Boy, that's a nice view.” Nate sings and winks to one of the girls who starts laughing and whispering something to her friends.

“Your big friend Steve always has a good eye, huh?” Nudges Nate's side and smiles contently. “Which one do you like, Jas?” Questions with clear emotion. “Decide before I steal her.”

“I'm not in the mood, you can flirt with anyone.” I sigh and tilt my head back, eyes closed.

“I think I'll write this day down on the calendar.” I hear Nate making fun of me.

“Do you have a bellyache?” Steve's voice doesn't hide the amazement, I deny with the head, still with my eyes closed. “Headache?” I deny again. “Did you run out of condoms?”

“Fuck, it's nothing like that.” I grumble, being more and more annoyed.

“Then what's wrong with you?” I open the eyes and find that he's looking at me with suspicion. “This is the first time I've seen you miss an opportunity like this.”

“I just don't feel like it, that's all.”

“To another dog with that bone, man.” Squats down in front of me, placing both hands on my shoulders. “Did something happen with your parents?” Expression is totally serious.

“Shit, Jas.” Nate moans, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand. “You know you can talk to us if anything happens, especially if your parents' hologram finally materializes.”

We laugh at the stupid joke for a few seconds. My temper has nothing to do with my parents, but it's amazing how concerned these two guys are about me. I'm not wrong to consider them my best and only friends. I feel bad about hiding my new feelings for a sweet boy with two-toned eyes from them. Although, considering how overprotective Nate is, how hard it is to convince Steve, and that I still have no idea how James feels about me, I can't do it.

I mean, I understand that I make him nervous, but the kid is like that all the time. That doesn't prove anything to me, and the way things are going, it might take me a while longer to figure it out.

“No, there's nothing going on with my parents.” I say when we stop laughing. “But as you know, that's normal.”

“Well, that's a relief. But then why are you so...” Steve pauses with a scowl, trying to find the word.

“Constipated?” I punch Nate's arm and he laughs.

“I'm not constipated, asshole. But if I don't feel like it, I won't force it into my system.” I shrug. “No matter how pretty the girl is or how attractive the guy might be.”

“Okay, in that case.” Nate stands and shakes his pants. “I'm not going to pass on the evident offer.” Smiles halfway and hangs the backpack over one shoulder, doesn't even bother to put the shirt on. “So, if you'll excuse me, ladies.”

“You don't mind, do you?” Steve's asking cautiously.

“No, dude, go.” I pat his arm several times and he jumps up. “Maybe you'll be lucky and get the number of the other two.”

“May your words be heard by all the deities that have been and will be.” Shakes his pants and winks at me before turning to Nate and the three girls sitting on the bench.

I smile as I watch Steve dance with the group and the girls giggling at his nonsense. However, all expression is erased from my face to be replaced with annoyance when images of James and Sam invade my brain again. «Goddamn it». I reach for the phone inside my pocket and unlock the screen, quickly search for the chat and immediately proceed to write.

[Your backpack doesn't look big enough to carry two pom-poms. Did you store them somewhere else?]✓✓

A few minutes go by without any response, forcing an uncomfortable sensation in my chest to grow. The vibration announces a new message and I hurry to check it.

@Jimmy: [I told you I'm not gonna cheer you up with pom-poms. ლ(¯ロ¯”ლ)]

[Was it serious? (ノ ಥ ウಥ) ノ. I thought you were joking.]✓✓

@Jimmy: [Yes, seriously. I'd look ridiculous. (￣_￣)・・・ ]

[I don't believe so. I think you'd look adorable.]✓✓

@Jimmy: ['Adorable' is not exactly how a man should look. (¯ . ¯٩)]

[There's nothing wrong with that.]✓✓

@Jimmy: [If you knew my father, you'd think otherwise.]

[Your dad's from the old school?]✓✓

@Jimmy: [Sort of. What are you doing?]

Okay, that was a radical change in the conversation, but I decide not to push. Maybe some other time I can get more information about it.

[Watching an interesting tennis match while waiting for Coach. How about you?]✓✓

The tennis game ended several minutes ago, I don't even remember who won.

@Jimmy: [Enjoying coffee: IMG_ 20190922_359625.jpg]

I open it and discover that the angle points to a steaming cup of coffee on a polished wooden table and... Wait a second: why is there another drink in the picture? Is he accompanied? I just wonder about the possibility; my fingers are squeezing hard on the phone until I hear it creak. Before I can stop, I write, unconsciously pushing the tongue on my cheek.

[You're not alone.]✓✓

@Jimmy: [No, how did you know? :0]

[There's another cup on the table in the picture you sent me.]✓✓

@Jimmy: [Oh, right. Silly Σ(￣。￣ﾉ)]

[Who's your company?]✓✓

@Jimmy: [Sam, he invited me.]

«What the fuck?». Sam Collins? Damn it.

[I see.]✓✓

@Jimmy: [Um, are you okay? Did I say something to upset you?]

[No, not at all. Enjoy your coffee.]✓✓

I lock the screen in a rage and put the phone back in my pants. I feel it vibrating again, but I don't bother to read the message, even if the longing to discover what his response was is twisting my guts. Fortunately, the appearance of Coach bursts into my troubled thoughts. He orders all the players to gather for practice, so I get up, shake, and grab my bag.

“You'll never guess who got lucky.” Happiness overflowing from Steve's body, passing an arm over my shoulders. “You have a blessed mouth, I managed to obtain the number of both of them.”

“That's great.” I mumble. If I wasn't in the mood before, I'm not in the mood now.

“One of them was very disappointed that you wouldn't join us.” Nate adds as we enter the dressing room. Finally, Steve drops me. “Are you sure everything is all right with you?” Frowns when he sees me practically tearing off my clothes.

“Yeah, everything's good.”

Steve and Nate exchange a glance, planning to get the truth out of me later, but for now, they just change in silence, which I appreciate. I'm almost ready when the door opens and Sam comes in. I clench my jaw and watch him walk with that huge physique through the lockers.

I think he's heading for his, but instead, turns in my direction. When he's in front of me, crosses the arms and stares at me, my whole body tightens and I automatically become defensive.

“Do you have something to say?” I imitate his posture by crossing my arms. The silence suddenly spreads and everyone observes us with nerves on edge.

“Yes, quarterback.” The deep, low voice is perfectly in accordance with the dimensions of his body.

“Well, fucking say it.” I groan, approaching him, showing that I am not at all intimidated.

“I just wanted to tell you that I will play much better than I did before.”

Wait... what?

“Huh?” The tension is running out of my flesh into the mountains. Now I'm standing there, with a completely stupefied expression on the face.

“I'll play better.” Nods several times, as if he had reached the same conclusion in his head. “I'll work hard not to disappoint you. I'm a bit slow, but I won't let that cause you any trouble.”

I open and close my mouth repeatedly like a fucking fish, while my brain struggles to process what's going on. At my lack of words, Nate walks up to us and puts a hand on my shoulder, smiling big, which highlights his dimples even more.

“That's wonderful, Sam. You can go change now.” Nate says, as dazed as I am.

“Thank you, sixty-two.” Sam heads for his locker and starts doing what he's told.

“Dude, that was weird as hell.” Steve squeals quietly so Sam doesn't hear us. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

“Fuck if I know.” I'm still kind of shocked by what happened, finishing putting on my uniform.

“Should I tell him my name's Nathaniel?” Teases, grabbing the helmet when he's done fixing himself. “He always calls me by my number.”

“What the heck is taking so long?!” Coach blows the whistle and I grimace. He loves punishing our eardrums with that damn thing. “Are you putting in your false eyelashes? Move it!”

We all hurry to wrap it up, I had to return when I forgot my mouthguard. I open my locker and my phone is lighting up with a new text. I'm tempted to see it, but from outside I can hear Coach's angry screams, so I give up on the idea, close the door and go out, fitting my mouthguard and helmet.

The practice, like the last ones, is completely brutal and merciless. The thick weather and the strong sun make everything worse, and only by half of it, we are all already panting and begging for compassion.

“Will you ask the Louisiana guys for a truce next week when they're kicking your asses?!” Shouts, but his condition is almost the same as ours. The shirt is damp from sweat and the sun has made parts of his skin irritated. “You can take a break, but you'd better get prepared to leave your soul in the field!”

Many shrieks and grunts of appreciation come from the players as they fall down on the turf. I drag my feet to the waiting bench, take a sip of the energy drink from the huge thermos flask. It's cold and an elixir for my exhausted spirit, Nate and Steve join me soon after.

“I need a sheet of paper and a pencil to fill my will.” Steve lies in front of my feet, picks up a bottle of water and pours it in his face. “But I warn you, I'm not leaving my car to anyone.”

“There are ways to forge a document.” Nate barely snorts through the heavy gasps and sits beside me.

“My handwriting is ugly enough to avoid being copied, so I'm sorry to disappoint you.” We laugh, though even that represents an effort in our miserable state. My legs are shaking and my arms feel heavy.

“Sam is keeping his word.” Nate points with the chin in his direction. The guy doesn't appear to be exhausted, but his sweaty hair and rapid breathing break the facade. “He played very well today.”

“Yes.” I sigh deeply. “He's doing good.”

I'm a man, as much as I don't like his sudden friendship with James, I have no problem admitting he's truly doing a great job. On none of the occasions, the others managed to knock me to the ground while I was holding the ball because of his effective defense. Plus, he threw Parker down when he attempted to outsmart him, making me eat grass when I called time out. His speed has increased too, he has no problem catching up and staying with me in a run.

“Do you think he's in love with you?”

“Don't be an asshole.” I laugh and kick Steve in the leg.

“Hey, it's a possibility. Don't you think his confession in the locker room was intense and with a hidden message?” Leans on an elbow. “I don't know about you, but I saw something in those eyes that made me realize he's waiting for more than friendship with you.”

“Ha! Can you imagine?” Nate mocks. “In that relationship, you'd obviously be the one getting it, bro.” Steve's with him now, laughing his head off.

“You're sons of bitches.” I grunt and they just laugh harder. “Stop being ridiculous, the guy doesn't have a crush on me.”

“You say that now.” Steve seems to be in a state of mind to get on my nerves. “But you'll remember us when he shows up before you with a bouquet of roses and a much more detailed, explicit confession.”

“Maybe a wedding ring?” Nate suggests, tauntingly. “That's always a good start in a relationship.”

“For whatever reason, just shut up already.”

They were about to continue torturing me with visions of Sam and me tangled up under the sheets when I was saved by Coach's whistle. This is the first time I've actually been relieved to hear that squeaky sound. Practice starts again and even though we're worn out, we play like there's no tomorrow. Everyone is following my instructions perfectly, with the exception of Charles, who slipped the ball on one of the long passes I shot. Coach, of course, lasted long minutes with a new sermon that kept us busy.

I take off my helmet and concentrate on regulating my hectic breathing, while Coach's mouth moves nonstop. My eyes do a quick evaluation of the students in the stands, my heart skips a beat when I see him. James is sitting in an Indian position with an open book on his legs.

He is under a soft shadow, but to me, he shines more than any jewel. Smiles when our glances meet, waving a small hand in my direction, just like the first time he came. I smile back at him, wishing I could be close enough to see those gorgeous eyes.

I can't pretend anymore. I like him. I fucking like him a lot. I still think it's a bit early to consider that I'm in love with him, but there's an inevitable attraction that I can't ignore, and I don't want to either. I take a few steps in his way, but Coach chooses that moment to conclude the very elaborate speech and goes back to practice.

I put my helmet back on, but now I don't feel as heavy as before. Is it because of James? I don't know, but it most certainly is. I'm experiencing a pleasant warmth in my chest when a new game starts, the center* passes the ball to me, I run around watching an opening or an available player. I'm ready to shoot when I hear it.

“Come on, Sam!”

«What the...?» I spin in the air, and the next thing I can see is grass and dirt through my helmet shields. My left side hurts pretty bad and I can't breathe. Fuck, I've been knocked down.

“But what the hell was that, Wright?!” Coach is screaming and I see my funeral coming up. I'm starting to get up when a hand is held out in front of me. It's Sam. Life's a bitch, isn't it?

I am lured to snarl at him like a rabid dog, pushing that giant hand away, but I am still slightly disoriented by the tackling. So, I accept the offer, holding his hand and enduring the pain until I can get to my feet. I release him immediately, but I lean my head in his direction in silent gratitude. He just looks at me from top to bottom, assessing my condition.

“Why the heck didn't you pass the ball to Robert?!” Smith stops in front of me, red with frustration. “He was free and ready to receive it, Wright!”

“I'm sorry, Coach. I got distracted.”

“For God's sake.” Mutters. “Rest!” I stand in the same position, not knowing what to do, staring at the grass under my shoes like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“Are you all right, quarterback?” I am surprised to discover that Sam is still by my side, the concern in his face and voice is palpable.

“Yes.” I look away. “Perfect.”

“Sure?” Getting close. “I can get you some water if you want.”

Damn, I want to be mad, but he makes it so tough. His interest in my welfare ends up extinguishing my anger and I sigh. The guy is very attentive and yet it wasn't his fault that I was tackled. It was his name coming out of James' lips that distracted me.

“Yes, Sam.” I pat him on the back. “I'm fine, thanks.”

“All right, quarterback.” Nods and seems relieved. «Why won't you let me hate you in peace?» I think helplessly.

“Let's get some rest before Coach shouts at us to do it.” A tiny smile on his lips is the only gesture this guy does before we both walk into the waiting area.

“Fuckin' Parker left you...” Nate pauses and the smirk on his face vanishes when a disturbance in the stands catches our attention. “What the fuck?!”

I spin around and anger boils in my veins, but this time for entirely different reasons. This time it's because of seeing several people around James, making fun of him. This time it's for noticing his wet hair, fogged-up glasses, and the shirt fabric fully wet with orange juice. This time it's for Leyla holding the now empty juice bottle over James' head, laughing uncontrollably along with the rest of her cult.

Okay, now I'm really pissed off.