Page 24

Chapter 24

Half-Lies

Parker

I’ve got the morning off, which is lucky because I’m still so aroused I can barely get out of bed. I replay every single second from the night before, until my legs begin to shake.

Brandon’s training starts at 10am. I picture him charging across the field, ducking around plastic cones. Improving his agility. Pushing off with his calves, his thighs… huh… Okay.

Who knew I was a leg guy?

Last night wasn’t my first dude on dude experience. But it was the first time I felt truly in control. Like I was choosing it. Not just trying to get away with it. I always thought that I’d feel completely different afterwards. But I don’t.

I feel more like me than ever before.

I stumble downstairs. Will is at the breakfast bar, already dressed. A pile of papers sit in-front of him. “Just getting up to speed on the new clients”, he explains through a mouthful of cereal, removing his headphones. “As well as the cancellations”.

Simon’s words ring through to me. Was Summit in more trouble than I thought? “Anyone I should get excited about?”

“You’re not a footie fan, right?” I laugh as he pretends to be scandalised. “Me neither, to be honest. No big names. Just a couple of injured European players. They’re not staying onsite. Not fancy enough, apparently”.

“You don’t like socc… I mean football, either?” I mean, I know it’s weird that I work at a soccer facility, but I didn’t have a choice. Will literally applied for the job.

“I know. Scandalous. Not liking football is about as anti-British as not liking tea. Which I don’t either”. Will smiles. “But Archie’s obsessed. And I didn’t like the thought of him all the way over here by himself”.

I nod at his papers. “You seem more interested in the business side of things”.

“I get it from my parents”. Will shrugs, with a small smile. “Archie and I are due to start working at the family business once we’re done with our gap year. Eleven months and counting”.

“He’s definitely making the most of his last months of freedom”. Despite their matching dark brown hair and solid builds, Will and Archie’s personalities couldn’t be more different.

“He is, and he deserves to”. Will says, with a hint of protectiveness. “But he’s been through some stuff. We all deal in different ways”.

I think back to the wilderness years right after my dad passed away. I tried a lot of different ways to make myself stop feeling. “You look after him”, I add, in realisation. Will gets a faraway look in his eye, before clearing his throat.

“He’s my little brother. By three minutes. Looking after him is part of the job”, he shrugs, “Don’t you have someone that you look out for no matter what? Or who looks out for you?”

Before I can answer, Archie tumbles into the kitchen in just socks and boxers, holding hands with a girl our age wearing a short skirt, and a hoodie I recognise as his. She kisses him goodbye, as Will exchanges a knowing look with me. “Hence the headphones”.

The front door closes and Archie patters in, stretching and yawning. Will pushes a plate towards him. “You need to refuel”.

“Thanks, Dad. We didn’t keep you awake, did we?” Archie grins, without sounding the least bit apologetic. “I was helping Maddie study for her English Literature exams”.

“Sounded more like biology. And no, I was prepared. And this one”, Will hops off the counter and claps me on the back, “Stayed out late last night”.

“Did he?” Archie grins, delighted. “You dog. Who’s the lucky lady?”

My stomach somersaults. “You wouldn’t know her”.

“Brandon better watch his back”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say sharply.

“Nothing. Sorry. He’s the resident eye candy, that’s all. How’s he doing anyway? I heard training has been a little rough the last few days”. Archie exchanges a glance with Will. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No”. If Brandon was having problems, he’d tell me. “Carter’s crushing it”.

“Glad to hear it. We’re going out for dinner later”, Will interjects diplomatically. “If you want to join us?”

I nod slowly. “I’ve got some work to do this afternoon”.

“Tell me about it”, Archie grins, as he and Will head back upstairs. “I know he’s family, but damn, your cousin sure knows how to run a tight ship”.

The business card for Zara’s MMA gym is still on the kitchen counter.

“He’s not so bad”, I say to the empty kitchen.

* * * *

Back in my bedroom, I glare at my reflection. I shouldn’t have been so sharp with Archie. And I shouldn’t have lied about who I was with. I’m still the same guy I was yesterday. Just with slightly broader horizons, that’s all.

There’s only one difference between yesterday and today. Yesterday, I had wondered what it would be like to try things again with Brandon. Today, I know exactly what it’s like, and I want to do it again.

It’s all I want to do. All I can think about.

My room has a decent view of the lower training field, and I peek out. In the distance, someone is haring from one end to the other. I don’t need to squint to recognise that form.

Carter.

He hurtles through the cones, taking the ball with him. He never breaks pace. He pauses for a split second, then flies back the same way, doing the circuit again. The ball whooshes into the net. And again. And again. I start timing him in my head. Was Archie right? Was something going on with him?

I frown. What’s he doing out there by himself anyway?

Where’s his coaches? He’d always be the last one out of practice, even in high school. Now, he was in the driving seat. Doing extra drills might not cause an injury, but even I knew that it was the quickest way to avoid recovering from one.

He skids to a stop at the edge of the field nearest me. He’s in a sleeveless shirt, with one leg of his shorts rolled up higher than the other. A trademark he’s always had, but now it does something to me that it never has before.

He grabs a water and pours it over himself. My worry is replaced by a much more enjoyable sensation. Damn, Carter.

I grab my phone. He answers a second later, sounding breathless.

“Special Contribution to best imitation of roadkill on a soccer pitch goes to…”

“Are you stalking me, Di Rossi? I never had you down as the clingy type”.

“I’m merely a simple city boy trying to enjoy a rare view of the greenery”, I click my tongue, “Unfortunately a two-minute wonder is blocking my view”.

Absently, my hand finds its way beneath my waist.

“Lies and slander. I was a four-minute wonder and you know it”.

“Seriously. You’re going pretty hard out there. You look exhausted”.

I watch as he peels his shirt off and tucks it into the waistband of his shorts. “How do I look now?”

Bastard. And as if I wouldn’t recognise a classic Artful Dodger diversion attempt when I see one. “Like someone who isn’t taking their rehab seriously enough”. He doesn’t answer. “How’s it going, anyway? You’re meant to get a progress report after a couple of weeks”.

I watch, as he brushes his hands to the back of his head. It’s kind of cute. Cute. Another new word added to my Brandon-only vocabulary. “I did. Everything’s fine. Just gotta keep grinding”.

“Really?”

“I’m a medical marvel, what can I tell you? Besides”, his voice takes on a playful tone, “We’ve been distracted by other things, remember?”

If only you knew how much I really remember. I’m going to have to tell him the truth at some point. I know it. But not today. “Sounds like we should be doing some celebrating”.

“Special Contribution to liver annihilation goes to…”

I ignore him. “I have a few things to do this afternoon, but maybe we could hook up for a drink later. I’ve got some news too, actually”, I turn over Zara’s business card in my fingers. I made the call earlier and Simon had been as good as his word. Zara didn’t hesitate to invite me down for a trial with her team.

Then she asked me if Simon was seeing anyone.

There’s a long pause. Did I just ask Brandon out on a date? And should I read anything into the fact that he didn’t instantly say yes?

“Everything okay over there?” I narrow my eyes, willing the distance between us to close.

“I’m always down to hang out. Maybe we go alcohol-free?”

“Sure”. I run my fingers through my hair. “Any particular reason?”

“I just think we’re less likely to get into trouble if we keep things low key”, Brandon says. “I’m training, so I shouldn’t be drinking anyway. And you could do with being a fight-free zone for a while”.

I tuck Zara’s card into my back pocket. Another time.

“I’ll make you a deal”. I sense an opportunity. “I’ll keep my fists to myself, if you promise to take it easy with your rehab”.

“Deal”, his relief is obvious. “So, what’s your day looking like?”

Going for a try out at an MMA gym seconds after I promised no more fighting.

“Just some errands. Nothing special”.

A weird silence falls between us. It’s not like I haven’t had my fair share of awkward morning-after conversations. But with Brandon, it’s different. He’s my friend. We don’t do awkward silences.

A wave of insecurity runs through me. I may not be an expert, but I’d guess that these one-sided jerk off sessions aren’t exactly substantial compared to what he’s used to doing in the bedroom.

What if I’m not living up to his expectations?

“How about a coffee later?”

“Sure”, I nod vigorously, even though he can’t see me. “To talk?”

“No, to drink, dumbass”. Okay, that’s more like it.

“Perfect. Remember our deal, okay? I might not be a coach, but even I can see you’re dialled up to 100 out there”.

“I don’t think coaches jerk off at their window whilst their clients are training”. I slam the curtains closed. A burst of laughter down the phone. “I knew it”.

“Bastard”. I laugh, as my heartrate returns to normal, “You know me too well”.

“Maybe. Maybe I just know how good I look with my shirt off. Even from a distance”.

“Not so bad close up, either”.

We ring off, and after a second, I peek back outside, watching him. I feel a frisson of excitement for our date later. I look around at my state of a bedroom, and begin tidying up.

Anything to distract from the fact that all I can think about is Brandon Carter. And that I’m pretty sure we both just lied to each other.