Chapter 10
Alistair
It’s Friday again and another shitshow at training.
Yet again, James, Wren, and Cyril fail to show up, so the team is pissed off and the coach is livid.
He makes us run so many extra laps of the field that by the end of it, I can’t feel my legs and I’m at the point of throwing up.
I’m longing to go home, fall into bed, and forget this entire fucking week.
But then Roger Cree asks who’s coming down to the Black Fox for a beer, and I don’t want to spend another evening alone, so I tag along.
This school year was meant to be the best of our lives for me and the boys.
Now, I just give a weary smile at the youthful na?veté we showed last summer.
Absolutely everything has changed since then.
Wren and his family have moved house, and he can hardly meet our eyes.
Cyril hasn’t been in school for a week. James is tying himself in knots trying to please both Ruby and his dad.
And as for me, I let my best mate break my heart, and now I have to deal with it.
Obviously, Kesh came down to the pub with the rest of the team.
He’s over on the other side of the room, standing at a dark wooden table with our reserve goalie.
I wish I could just ignore him, but every time I look up from the beer in my hand, he’s watching me with his dark eyes.
Like he hasn’t glanced away once all evening.
I can’t stop thinking about our past. I can feel Kesh’s fingers, his skin, his lips; feel his voice in my ear, whispering sweet nothings as I caress him with my hands.
I’m on my fourth pint already, which isn’t exactly helping me to suppress those thoughts.
Anytime I think I’m over the memories of our time together, a single glance from Kesh is enough to bring it all back, full force. I don’t know how long this is going to go on. Especially not if we keep trying to make things work as friends.
I just can’t get away from him. However hard I try. And least of all when he’s looking at me over his pint glass like that.
“What the fuck is up with James and the rest of you lot right now?” Roger asks me out of the blue, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“What?” I answer vaguely.
He puts his glass down on the table in front of me. “I’m starting to get the feeling you’re deliberately trying to sabotage this team.”
I frown at him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Beaufort barely shows his face at training these days because he’d rather hang around with the events committee, and it feels like weeks since Fitz and Vega graced us with their presence. And don’t get me started on how out of shape you’ve got. You know how crap you’re playing lately.”
Beer in hand, I freeze. I’d love to throw it in Cree’s face. “What do you know about it?” I snap. “If James hadn’t got himself banned last term, you wouldn’t even be on the team. You have no fucking clue what’s going on with my friends right now, so watch what you say about them.”
Cree just snorts. “I’d have got on the team either way. Face it: Everyone has their private shit to deal with. That’s no excuse to keep skipping training. You guys think too much of yourselves when you’re no more than spoiled brats with too much time and money on your hands.”
I stand up so abruptly that the chair tips over backward. I take a step toward Roger, and I’m about to grab him by the collar when someone holds me back by the shoulder.
I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Even if I hadn’t recognized his gentle yet firm touch, I’d have known Kesh by his unmistakable scent. I love the smell of Kesh. So much that I sometimes pretend I’ve forgotten my deodorant just so that I can borrow his.
“Leave it, Alistair,” his quiet voice says behind me.
I shake off his hand but don’t stop glaring at Cree. “Take that back.”
He laughs humorlessly. “Beaufort gets to party for days but can’t drag himself down to training. What kind of captain leaves his team in the lurch like that?”
“You’ve been around less than a year, yet you think you get to bad-mouth James? You have no idea what the team owes him. Without him, we’d never be where we are now.”
I’ve raised my voice so much that everyone around us stops talking and starts to watch us curiously. Not that I care. What Cree said has really wound me up. And I grow angrier still when Kesh touches my shoulder a second time.
I whirl around. “Don’t touch me,” I growl.
“And as for you two,” Cree goes on remorselessly, “I’m not gonna lie, it’s blatantly obvious that…”
The panic flickering in Kesh’s eyes makes me take action.
I spin back to Roger Cree, and my fist connects with his face.
I feel his bones crunch as the punch lands somewhere between his eye and his nose—or maybe on them both.
He groans in pain as he hits the ground, then all hell breaks loose.
The rest of the team gathers around us, Kenton helps Cree up, and someone pulls me back.
But I’m not done yet. I want to go for him, want to make him shut his bloody mouth and stop trashing the people who matter most in my life.
But I don’t get far. Kesh pulls me outside, around the corner, into the little lane beside the pub. Only then does he let go. I have my back to him and fists still clenched; I’m breathing hard.
“That was unnecessary,” he says, breaking the silence after a minute or two. From out here, you can still just about make out the rock music playing inside. I try to focus entirely on that, and not on Kesh standing close behind me, or on the fact that I just decked a teammate.
That was unnecessary.
It feels like Kesh and I are constantly doing the unnecessary instead of what we actually want.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Kesh,” I reply. Suddenly, I feel as weak as a kitten. Like I’ve given everything I have to give.
I feel him take a step closer until I sense the warmth of his body behind me. A shiver runs up my spine.
“I don’t want you to say anything.” He puts his hand on my back. More tentatively this time. It couldn’t be more different from his firm grip just now. It’s a familiar, gentle touch.
I gulp dryly.
“Kesh,” I say warningly.
He comes closer still, puts a hand round me, lays it on my belly. His chest brushes my back, and I gasp.
“Alistair,” he whispers. His hot breath strokes my ear and I get full-body goose bumps.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Nobody but Kesh makes me feel these nervous jitters, the electric tingle that runs through me from head to toe, makes me feel weightless.
“I don’t know,” he replies, slowly stroking my stomach.
“I do,” I begin hoarsely. Kesh makes an inquiring sound. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to turn around. I’m going to press you up against the wall and kiss you. And then we both know what will happen next.”
“I think you’re going to have to give me a clue,” Keshav murmurs. He wraps his arms tighter around me. I can feel his chest on my back, rising and falling ever faster—and something hard pressing against my bum. My pulse is racing. “What will happen next, Alistair?”
I snort with laughter. “That’s a pretty lousy attempt at tricking me into kissing you, Kesh.”
Then I gather up every ounce of strength left in me, grab his arm, and push it away from my stomach. At the same time, I turn to him on my wobbly legs. The adrenaline still coursing through my veins has left me dizzy.
I wish I could walk away and leave him here. I can’t lose myself in him again, not when I know exactly what’s coming next.
But as he cautiously raises his hand and lays it on my cheek, I’m incapable of budging.
“Alistair,” he whispers.
I’ve longed to hear my name on his lips again. Desperately. My brain is telling me to turn and walk away before it’s too late, but when Kesh brings his mouth to mine, my mind falls silent, along with all the reasons why it would be better to stop this.
All I can do is kiss him back.
Kesh moves his lips against mine, hesitantly at first, and then a little faster and more confidently. Automatically, I lift my hands to his face, stroke his jaw and his throat, then bury them in his hair.
Kesh groans soundlessly. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers into the side of my mouth.
I grunt my agreement.
“It can be like this all the time.”
The impact comes out of nowhere, taking me by complete surprise. Suddenly, I’m fully aware that we’re in a dark alleyway and that this is pretty much the opposite of what I want from Keshav.
Hastily, I pull my hands away and take a step back. “I don’t want to be your little secret, Kesh. I don’t know how often I have to say that.”
Kesh’s eyes flash. “I don’t get why you want to wreck things between us.”
“You’re the one smashing things!” My shout echoes down the lane. I’m almost expecting Kesh to glance anxiously over his shoulder, to check that nobody’s heard us, but he doesn’t look away from me.
“The fact that you still don’t get it is just showing me how wrong this all is,” I say quietly, but no less bitterly for that.
“Nothing about us is wrong.”
I shake my head at him. “Kesh. Come on.”
“Is that why you broke up with me?” he asks. By this point, he’s sounding as frustrated as I feel. “Because you think this doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to you?”
I sigh with resignation. “You can’t ‘break up’ with someone when you’re not even properly together.”
He closes his eyes and takes two deep breaths. He’s clearly fighting for composure.
“You’re not ready for a relationship,” I say, feeling the heat creep into my throat. “And that’s fine. But I am.”
Kesh takes a step toward me, a pleading look in his eyes. I’ve never known him like this. He’s always so bloody closed off, won’t show anyone—even me—what’s going on inside. But in this moment, his despair is so clear, so overwhelming, that I can almost feel it.
“I know what things were like with your parents. I”—he breaks off and exhales raggedly—“I’m just scared.”
“I know,” I croak.