Chapter 7 #3
In the kitchen there’s a tub with ice and lite beers.
I stoop to get us each one and when I turn around Gio has slipped into the room.
This is one of those older houses with the kitchen closed off from the rest of the house, and we’re alone in the fairly small room.
He steps closer, and I don’t move. I’m standing there, near the back door, holding two freezing cans in my hands, and something about the way he’s looking at my face holds me firmly in place.
Gio’s been saying that he likes me, but the heat in his expression makes it real.
His dark eyes are filled with intensity.
He takes one more step and then his lips are on mine, cool and soft.
Why kiss me now? We’ve been hanging out at parties like this before, but this is the first time he’s made such a bold move.
I pull away instinctively, not sure why I do it.
Don’t I like Gio? Shouldn’t I be enjoying this?
The beer cans slip from my fingers and bang loudly on the tile floor. His eyes search for the cans, and as he bends to pick up the dropped beer, I see that Brandon is standing in the doorway, his expression is stony.
“…beers,” Mello says, appearing behind them in the doorway.
His eyes go from me to Gio and there’s a flicker of something that makes my stomach drop, because I invited Mello, and I know he came to hang out with me.
Worse, Brandon looks a combination of disappointed and pissed.
My body is hot with embarrassment, and there’s something like loss from what I’m seeing on Brandon’s face.
Why? I can’t be starting to like him, can I?
And Gio. Why didn’t he even try to kiss me until he thought another guy was in the picture?
I don’t know what I want, and my mind is still whirling while I get Mello and Von drinks, and we all head out onto the back deck at Mackenzie’s suggestion.
Gio puts his arms around my waist and asks the soccer players about themselves.
Mello’s eyes are practically shooting lasers at Gio by this point, but Brandon is harder to read.
Gio’s questions are general and focused on the sport itself, but his attention is locked on Carmello.
I let my mind drift, enjoying the way the cold air feels against my heated skin.
“You’re on,” Brandon says, smirking, bringing my attention back to the conversation.
“What?” I blurt, forgetting myself for a moment.
“Me and Von vs you and Carmello,” Gio says, clasping hands with Brandon in that macho way that guys like to do. It’s a quick dap and then they all pile down the deck stairs onto the cold, nearly icy grass of Brayden’s backyard.
“Are you guys kidding?” I say. “You don’t even have cleats.”
“We got everything we need, babe,” Gio says, laughing. “I got mine in my trunk. You guys got yours?”
“Hell yeah, we do,” Mello says.
“This is stupid,” I say to Mackenzie as the boys set up folding nets and shit in the backyard. People start filtering outside onto the deck. I wrap my arms around myself. The cold isn’t as soothing anymore.
“It’s Gio’s fault,” Mackenzie says, as if the fact that he and I are talking somehow makes me responsible for his decisions. “He was saying how Americans can’t play ‘football’ and Italians are the greatest. You know Brandon wasn’t going to take that sitting down.”
But this isn’t about Brandon at all. This is Gio’s roundabout way of starting a fight with Carmello, which is stupid since he doesn’t even know for sure there’s anything between me and him. Gio has been a bit of a Lothario so far, but I wouldn’t have pegged him for a hothead.
They start playing and right away I can tell that this isn’t Gio’s first rodeo.
He’s not as tall as the other guys, but he’s fast and agile.
In the backyard floodlights I can see Von kind of hanging back and watching his teammate.
The first couple of times Gio tries to pass to him he’s a little slow, but it doesn’t take them long to find a rhythm.
Brandon and Mello don’t even look at each other, but their big bodies dominate the pitch.
It’s not that they’re slow, but their energy is all efficiency and patience.
They break up a long pass and nearly score before Gio races like a speed demon to stop them with a wild kick that sends the ball smashing into the side of the house.
The loud slap makes me jump, but they all laugh and bump into each other like oversized toddlers.
They go back and forth for a little bit, Brandon and Mello clearly dominating, and finally kicking the ball into one of the little nets.
I see Gio spit on the grass and wipe sweat from his forehead and then his eyes lock with Mello’s.
I can’t say what passes between them, but it’s not good.
Gio rolls his shoulders and pulls his long-sleeved t-shirt off, leaving his surprisingly toned torso bare to the mid-40s air.
Mello follows suit, those acres of amazing skin and rippling muscles sheeted with sweat.
Brandon and Von exchange confused looks and then Brandon shakes his head, locking eyes with me.
Whatever happens now, he’s going to blame me.