Chapter 4
Louis
And I’m nervous. I feel a tingling sensation in my stomach and my heart is beating a little faster than necessary.
But that has little to do with handball and more to do with the person who passes me said ball as if he could read my mind.
David. I’ve hardly ever played with anyone before like I do with him, and if I have, it wasn’t after such a short time.
When I run free for attack, the ball is already in the air when I turn around, and when I intercept a ball in defense, David is already on his way, waiting for the fast break.
Everything is easy, everything runs smoothly.
His green eyes hold me captive, and I am powerless because whenever he looks at me, there is always this fire in his gaze, this flicker, this blaze.
He wants me, right? But he doesn’t know what to do. Neither do I. I know I’m into guys; that’s nothing new, but I’ve never had the feeling that any of the guys I liked were interested in me. I do with him, and every time our eyes meet, my heart skips a beat.
Why does he have to be so damn handsome?
Every movement is deliberate, executed with strength and elegance.
When he catches the ball, the muscles in his forearm tense, visibly contracting from his elbow to his wrist, twisting with every quick movement.
His shoulders look even broader when he raises the ball in his right hand up to his head and throws it in jumping.
Damn, I’m glad I’m not on the line when he flies toward the net.
Despite his size, he moves so easily, so quickly, so smoothly, like a cat. Not a tabby cat, a big one, like a tiger or a panther. Always ready to strike.
When a play has gone particularly well, he jogs over to me, holds my gaze, and high-fives me.
His hands are rough and I’m sure they’d feel fantastic on other parts of my body as well.
And then there’s his smile. Cautious, reserved, shy.
A smile that doesn’t seem to fit the dominant young man on the court, but that makes me even more curious.
No, I don’t imagine grabbing his T-shirt and pulling him down to me.
Pressing my lips to his and sliding my hand under this unnecessary piece of fabric to let my fingers glide over each single curve of his six-pack.
Nope. Definitely not. No chance. I don’t push my hips forward in search of something that might bring me relief. Absolutely not.
At the end of practice, I don’t even dare to look at him anymore. My imagination is running wild and I’m seriously afraid of doing something tremendously stupid. Or saying something stupid, or both. But guess what, today seems to be my lucky day, because David leaves the gym right behind me. Great.
“Did you come by bike?”
Oh my God, I have to answer. I can talk anytime, anywhere, that’s not the issue, but I can’t always guarantee what I’m going to say is eloquent.
Massive filter failure combined with uncontrolled impulsiveness – not cool.
“Uh, no, my father always picks me up on Tuesdays. Tomorrow I’ll be here by bike. ”
“Cool. See you then.” We high-five goodbye and I walk as fast as I can to the parking lot and jump into the passenger seat.
“Hey! How was practice?” Paps asks, but he’s still looking at David. “Did you get to know your teammates a little?”
“That’s David. He’s our captain.”
“He looks nice.”
“He’s into you.” Completely in sync and at record speed, Paps and I turn around to the boy in the back seat.
“What the... What did you say?”
My little brother looks at me with utter boredom. “Seriously. Are you blind? It’s obvious.”
“You’re ten! How would you know?”
“How come you don’t see it? You’re sixteen for God’s sake!” I turn back. You have to accept when you’ve lost in a war of words with Jannis. But if he’s right—and Jannis can read people like no one else—would that mean... Something I very much hope is true?