Six #3
If I answered, I would snap something regrettable, so instead I forced a laugh and snatched up the basket.
It wouldn’t take long to collect the balls, but perhaps long enough to let me shake away my irritation.
It was none of my business whether he chose to come out or not, yet I couldn’t but think how much easier my life would have been with someone to share that particular spotlight – two gay players far less interesting than only one.
Perhaps sensing I needed a moment, Miles stayed leaning against the fence rather than help, leaving me to walk slowly around the court retrieving balls like each was a piece of the unjust anger I needed to pack away. Because if I didn’t, this—whatever it was—would be over before it began.
I returned to find him doing his quiet, watchful thing, his eyes made even darker by the lengthening evening shadows.
“Going after me,” I said, repeating his words as I set the basket down. “So, did you actually need help with that laundry? Or was that part of some plan?”
“I definitely needed help with the laundry. I wasn’t planning anything then.”
“When did you change your mind?”
Miles tilted his head, considering me. Or perhaps considering whether he ought to answer. Eventually, he shrugged. “By the end of dinner.”
“Dinner,” I repeated, shocked. “Then why the excuse at the gym?”
“Because when I kissed you, you froze up! I hadn’t meant to move so fast, but you were too damn cute and by then I really wanted you to fuck my brains out, so I tested the waters and you shut right down. I figured I must have misread the situation, so I made a shitty excuse.”
“You didn’t misread, I just—”
“Thought I was having a ten-second gay panic,” he interrupted, lifting placating hands.
“I know. So, I decided to show you in what I thought was the most obvious way possible that I love dick and somehow that backfired too.” He ran a hand through his hair and laughed.
“You’re so fucking unpredictable, Matteo.
I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble getting laid before. ”
Sure it wasn’t a compliment, I said, “I swear I’m really not that complicated, this has just been . . . weird, you know, given where we started. Wait, did you call me cute?”
Miles shrugged, his spreading grin a little apologetic. “Maybe. To be honest, I’ve always thought so. I just also thought you were a cocky dick.”
“That I was a cocky dick? Wow.”
“Oh, is that what you thought of me?”
“Something like that,” I admitted.
“Huh,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “Well, I’m glad we’ve figured that out. Since it would be a shame to waste the opportunity that finds us both exceptionally gay, exceptionally hot, and living across the hall from one another.”
It was the statement of intent I’d needed, a straightforward while we have the opportunity, why not fuck that immediately filled my mind with all the things I’d been trying not to imagine.
Yet there was more, that exchange of admissions leaving behind a shared silence overlarge with import, like we were drawing a line beneath a past we needn’t return to.
It felt good; a lifted weight I hadn’t realised I was carrying.
In its wake, Miles pointed at the basket. “Do you need to keep hitting balls or are we good now? Or was this really not about me?”
It might have been less embarrassing to lie, but my honesty ran deep so I said, “It was extremely, absolutely about you.”
“It was the towel, wasn’t it? You did want me to take it off.”
“No, I wanted to rip it off myself.”
Miles’s eyes widened, his lips parting on a soft groan. “Goddamn.”
“Oh, you would have liked that? I’ll keep that in mind.” I slung my racquet bag onto my shoulder. “I have to drop the balls at the office, but then we can go.”
Having surreptitiously adjusted his shorts, he grabbed the basket. “I’ll carry them, but only if you answer me something.”
“Answer what?” I said, fresh tension lacing through my chest.
“Why am I in your phone as Scrunchie? Does that have some special meaning in Australia that makes no sense to anyone else?”
My laugh was as much relief as amusement, and I shook my head. “Nope, it’s just a fancy hair tie. But honestly, I have no idea. I don’t remember doing it, which is why I asked who you were when you messaged me.”
“And you didn’t think to change it?”
“Nah.” We started for the gate under the artificial lights, me with my bag, Miles carrying the basket. “I’m sure I will at some point, but for now it’s grown on me.”
He shot me an appalled look. “You don’t think it undermines my flirty messages?”
“Hmm, you’re right. Perhaps I should add dick to make it hotter.”
“Dick scrunchie? Really?”
“Rawr,” I said and snapped my teeth like I would take a bite of him.
“You’re a monster.”
I grinned, drunk on relief and enjoying myself far too much. “It could be worse. I could change it to scrunchie dick.”
“That just sounds gross. Instead of either of those things, you should message Katie back so she knows you’re not dead.”
“Oh, shit.”
Halting outside the court office, I dug out my phone.
Katie Zhang
Hey, Mat again now. Sorry about that
Gym or tennis court?
. . .
Court
Knew it. Idiot I won by the way
Fuck! Congratulations! I did watch, I swear, I just completely forgot to message you
You played GREAT
Something tells me Miles Callahan did too