Page 4 of After the Siren

‘I appreciate all the stars in the gender constellation,’ Paddy had explained.

Jake had blurted out ‘I’m gay’ before he’d had time to second-guess himself. Which, let’s be real, Xen and Paddy had already guessed. Saying it out loud had felt itchy and vulnerable, but then Xen had pulled him into a one-armed hug and Paddy had held out a fist for him to bump.

‘Thanks for telling us,’ Xen had said. ‘We’ve got your back.’

‘Yeah, this is cute and all,’ Paddy had agreed, ‘but are you gonna go talk to that guy?’

Jake did. Although after exchanging names, there hadn’t actually been a lot of talking.

He should tell Xen and Paddy about breaking up with Kyle. Except he didn’t want to tell them on the bus. Later. He’d tell them later. ‘You know any of the new people?’ he asked instead.

There had been five new names on the camp list. Their new draft picks, whom Jake had met a couple of times through the Falcons development academy.

Jason Stevens had come from Perth, Nathan Rigger had done a couple of VFL seasons with the Harriers, and Theo Bestavros came from the Sydney Sharks as part of the trade for Jamie Collins.

Theo Bestavros.

Jake wished he’d never done that stupid fucking interview.

Full Forward had always been a bit borderline, but he hadn’t realised they were going to stick his interview next to a skit that had definitely crossed the boundary into actually racist. He hadn’t needed Xen to explain just how problematic it was, but Xen had done so. A number of times, and in detail.

He’d thought about messaging Bestavros about it, but it wasn’t as though they were friends – or likely to see each other again.

Everyone had known Bestavros was done. Messaging him in order to be told to fuck off had seemed a bit pointless.

Except apparently not, because now Bestavros was here, on the team bus, and presumably not ready to plait Jake’s hair and make friendship bracelets.

Once they were well underway, and the bus driver had given up telling them all to sit down, Jake made his way down the bus to check in with everyone. It was good to be back.

Bestavros was sitting with Morgan Reyes. Not surprising; Raze was, at heart, a heavily tattooed mother hen. He already had Bestavros smiling.

The smile vanished when Bestavros saw Jake.

Raze returned Jake’s fist bump. ‘Hey, Jaze.’ He turned to Bestavros. ‘He’s Jaze because we already had a Cunno.’

‘And because it’s cute that we rhyme,’ Jake added.

‘Hi,’ Bestavros said. He didn’t smile.

Bestavros was hot. Jake had known that, theoretically. He’d seen Bestavros on the field, but he didn’t register other players as anything more than physics and geometry while he was playing. Angles and momentum. He broke them down into their component parts; pure form and function.

Bestavros was wearing tailored shorts and a cream linen shirt with short sleeves.

It was a good look on him. His curly hair was shaved close on the sides, but he’d left it long on top and it was falling forward into his hazel eyes.

He wasn’t as built as Paddy, but he’d clearly been putting in the work over the off-season.

He didn’t look particularly touchable, but he did look good.

There was a beat of silence. Was Raze also thinking about the skit?

He hadn’t said anything about it, but that was probably because everyone knew that Yelks had already pulled Jake aside for one of his chats.

Jake would have taken one of his mum’s lectures any day over one of Yelks’ not-angry-just-disappointed chats.

Jake hesitated. Should he apologise? He should probably apologise.

Bestavros was right there, looking at him.

Looking at him kind of expectantly. But this didn’t seem like the time for an apology.

On a bus, in front of Raze. There would be other moments when he could apologise.

Or maybe apologising would make it worse.

He shouldn’t apologise.

Cunningham hadn’t apologised. Theo had been willing to give Cunningham a chance – only one chance, because the arrogant shit didn’t deserve more than one – and Cunningham had blown it.

He’d said ‘hey’ to Theo as though he hadn’t sat his smug ass down in front of a camera six months ago and laughingly critiqued Theo’s probably career-ending performance for the benefit of thirty thousand Full Forward subscribers.

The great mystery was why everyone acted as though the sun shone out of Cunningham’s ass.

He wasn’t even that good-looking. He had the generic surfer charm that Aussie boys who grew up near the beach all seemed to have in spades; it soaked in with the sunscreen.

Theo would have bet every cent in his bank account that Cunningham had spent most of the summer paddling around in the surf with a couple of other identical guys (maybe one brunette for variety).

He probably had an equally boring, generically pretty girlfriend. He wasn’t special.

What he was, though, was fucking irritating.

Cunningham had been the last to arrive for the bus, rumpled in a way that had to be deliberate.

Nobody who wasn’t trying could have picked board shorts and a singlet that clashed like that.

He’d been late, but that obviously hadn’t deterred him from stopping for coffee.

And he’d brought a surfboard. To development camp.

Instead of shamefacedly retiring to the back of the bus and shutting the fuck up like a normal person, he seemed determined to remain the absolute centre of attention.

He was in perpetual motion up and down the aisle, exchanging jokes and ridiculous handshakes with his teammates, constantly intruding into Theo’s peripheral vision.

Impossible to ignore. The sunlight sparked off the gold of a fidget ring on his left index finger as he gesticulated.

He hung on to the luggage rack as he chatted to various players, his singlet riding up to expose part of a tattoo on his hip.

It hadn’t been visible in the Naked sneaker ads – it must have been under a layer of mud.

Theo couldn’t quite work out what it was, which was even more irritating because then he was just staring at Cunningham’s exposed hip.

He texted Priya to let her know they’d clearly touched up Cunningham’s abs in the advertisements.

Priya

How have you seen his abs already?

Theo

His shirt rode up

Priya

Were you making out in the bathroom of the bus at the time?

Theo

This fantasy of yours is not the hill you should die on

Cunningham subsided into a seat every time the bus driver growled at him, but never for long. It was like being locked in a room with a very energetic puppy, except that Theo liked puppies.

The only saving grace of the bus ride was Morgan Reyes, who’d glanced around the bus and then dropped into the seat next to Theo.

He was almost comically different to how he was on the field.

Theo had only played against him once, but his abiding memory of that game was of Reyes, with his sharp undercut and sleeve tattoos, flattening Sharks midfielders like they were made of papier-maché.

Off the field he turned out to be softly spoken, with a ready smile and a laugh that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

It was his third year with the Falcons, and he’d given Theo a quick rundown on what to expect.

Johnny Xenos had also given Theo a fist bump on the way past. Theo remembered Xenos – vividly – because it had been Xenos’s broad chest that he’d hammered the ball into at the end of that last, awful game for the Sharks.

He’d wondered if he’d be ribbed about it, wondered how he was going to pretend those barbs weren’t hitting raw skin, but Xenos just gave him a friendly smile and said, ‘Good to have you on board,’ as though he really meant it. Maybe he did.

Cunningham was obviously tight with Xenos and Riley. The three of them were tactile in a so-homo-there’s-no-homo way. At one point Riley had literally shoved his hand up Cunningham’s singlet.

By the time the players had unloaded their luggage in front of the Torquay Athletics Centre, Theo had decided that this was basically school camp.

Weird bus trip where no one knew who to sit with: check.

At least two or three people who were way too excited: check.

At least one person arriving with triple the amount of luggage reasonably required: check.

At least one person arriving with significantly less than the amount of luggage reasonably required: check.

He’d never been quite this anxious about school camp, though. The medication helped, but it didn’t tamp down the thrumming current of don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up , punctuated by the occasional vicious you’re going to fuck this up .

Kat clambered onto a bench to direct operations. She had a clipboard in one hand and a whistle around her neck. Apparently, players were going to be sharing rooms. Theo assumed the rationale was that it would help them all bond, because the club could definitely afford to give them their own rooms.

Kat’s voice cut through the babble of conversation. ‘Bestavros and Cunningham, room seven. Bestavros, Cunningham knows where to go.’

Oh hell no.

Theo looked across at Cunningham. The smile slipped off Cunningham’s face for a moment, replaced by an almost cartoonish look of dismay.

Nice. Feeling’s mutual, dickhead.

‘Riley and Xenos, room eight.’ The two exchanged a fist bump.

Theo grabbed his bag and approached Cunningham. He caught the tail end of the conversation between Cunningham, Riley and Xenos.

‘Cold, bro,’ Cunningham was saying.

‘I live with you,’ Xenos said. ‘You can’t blame me.’

‘Besides,’ Riley added, nudging Jake with his shoulder, ‘he likes me best.’

Xenos snorted. ‘I wouldn’t go that far, but you’re definitely more house-trained.’

Great. I bet Cunningham snores. Or smells. Or takes annoyingly long showers.