Chapter 13 #2
He gave me what could have been considered a smile, if you closed your eyes and looked sideways, the minute he spotted me standing there, which was almost immediately.
“Hi,” I greeted him.
That sort of smile grew maybe a millimeter. He grunted his greeting, looking around at the three fields that seemed to form a U-shape. Two of them were already full, but the one that my friends usually played on was mostly empty, with only a few people gathered.
“Come on, before we get stuck on a shitty—” I winced at myself. Was I allowed to cuss in front of him even though we weren’t on Pipers’ hours? “—crappy team.”
He tipped his head down in a lazy nod and followed after me as I led him around the outskirts of the field. “They’re all really nice,” I told him, not that he’d care, “but I think we should keep your identity a secret.”
Kulti shrugged but didn’t say a word as we approached what I quickly counted to be seventeen people.
Damn it. Recognizing more than half of the people hanging around, I waved at the ones I knew and headed toward Marc and Simon, who had their backs turned to me.
As soon as I was close enough, I kicked each one in the ass with the side of my foot. “Hey, guys.”
Marc turned around first, frowning at getting kicked until he realized I’d been the one to do it. “You shit, you could have told me you were coming.”
I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “Last-minute decision. Live with it.”
Roughly, the man I worked with every day shoved me toward Simon, who gave me a big grin before pulling me into a full-frontal hug that made it seem like it’d been weeks instead of days since we’d seen each other. “Glad you came, Salmonella. We need you.”
“I told her weeks ago that she should come out, but someone’s too good for us regular folks,” Marc added just to be a pain.
“You, shut up. I’m here, and I brought reinforcements.” I finally waved at Kulti, who had stopped a few feet behind me and to the right. “My friend and I wanted to play, so I figured I’d come down and see if you had spots for us.”
Marc and Simon looked over and around me to view a reconstructed version of Kulti. Neither one of them said anything for so long that I started to think they recognized him.
It was Marc who raised an eyebrow, mouthing “Friend?” And Simon, who didn’t have a filter in his big trap, asked, “You finally got a new boyfriend?”
“Friend,” I insisted. I looked at Kulti for some clue as to what I was supposed to call him, but he didn’t catch on to the question in my voice.
“Rey? This is Marc and Simon. Marc and Simon, this is… Rey.” Saying his name out loud, like we were actually friends, was strange.
It was like writing with my left hand. I almost felt like I’d get in trouble for saying it out loud, but I didn’t let myself think about it too much.
The two men I’d grown up playing with, didn’t miss a beat.
They were obnoxious, but they weren’t impolite. Each one made sure to shake Kulti’s hand before settling back into place. Simon didn’t look twice at him, but I noticed Marc staring at him a little too intently.
Shit.
I’d tell him the truth later, once I was sure he wouldn’t lose his shit and start crying. Would he be pissed? Of course, but it was either him being mad at me or the possibility he’d fall to the ground and start kissing Kulti’s feet.
“So, you have room? I think I counted seventeen people, right?” I asked, rocking back on my heels and swinging my stuff with my other hand, keeping a steady eye on Marc.
Simon made a noise as he looked behind at the people who had gathered. “I’ll see if somebody wants to sit this game out and play the next one instead.”
“All right, if not, then I’ll sit it out and see if someone will swap with me next game,” I offered, still watching the dark-haired man I’d grown up with.
Simon, a tallish blond, rolled his eyes and scowled. “Right. You know you can ask half of these assholes if they’ll let you play, and they’ll fight over who will do it.”
I snorted and let him head toward the group, leaving me with Kulti and Marc. Marc was looking at Kulti like he was trying to undress him. Lines furrowed his forehead, and a second later, he slanted his gaze over in my direction and the confusion deepened.
“Hey, Sal?” he asked slowly, cocking his head to the side. Kulti was busy looking around, aloof. Thankfully.
I shot Marc a look that clearly said shut up. “Later.”
“Come here,” he insisted in a low voice, eyes narrowed just a bit more.
Fortunately, Simon chose that instant to call everyone together to choose teams, so I turned away. With my boss-slash-friend on one side and one ex-professional soccer player on the other, we made our way toward Simon.
But Marc wouldn’t leave me alone. Knocking his fist against mine as we walked, he leaned toward me. “Sal, is that—”
“No.”
“Holy—”
“Be quiet about it at least, big mouth,” I hissed under my breath so that Kulti wouldn’t hear me.
Marc stopped walking. His normally tan face went white. “Are you shitting me?”
“No.”
I kept on going. If I didn’t pay attention to him, then I couldn’t confirm anything.
They figured out who were going to be the team captains by a process of guessing numbers.
The winners were one man I’d played with a few times before, whose name I thought was Carlos, and the other I didn’t know.
After an intense game of rock paper scissors, Carlos got to pick first. He immediately looked over and waved me forward. “I’ll take Sal first.”
“What a suck-up,” Simon said as I walked by him, an affectionate smile on his face. “I’m Sal, and I play professional soccer. Look at me,” he added in a high-pitched girly voice right before kicking me in the butt.
The other captain called Simon’s name, and I swatted his leg away with a laugh.
Each person was chosen until the only people left were Kulti, a girl I’d played with before, and another guy.
Marc had been picked for Carlos’s team too, and I could see him making faces, tipping his head over in Kulti’s direction not very subtly.
Finally understanding what was going on, Carlos pointed at the ex-star and said, “I’ll take him.
” I would forever hold on to the fact that he’d gotten chosen almost last for what had to be the first time in his life .
I couldn’t help but snicker to myself. When I caught Marc’s eye, he slid me a sneaky evil grin that had lost its surprised pallor. For all I knew, Kulti could suck just as much at softball as my brother did, so I really wasn’t sure what Marc was excited about. This could go horribly.
As we circled together once the other girl had been chosen, gear was grabbed and we got ready to play. I looked at Kulti and said in a low voice, “I should have asked you before, but do you know how to play?”
From the expression on his face, you’d think I asked him if he knew what a yellow card was. Sheesh.
I held up my hands in a peace offering. “Just asking.” There was one more thing, in case he happened to be really good with a bat and a glove. “Look, this is for fun, all right? I don’t think they can handle your superhuman skills, so tone it down a little. Yes?”
His pleased little baby grin said everything, and he finally nodded once in acceptance. “Fine. We’re going to win anyway.”
“Duh.” Like anything else was even a possibility. I put my hand up and shoved his shoulder before I even realized what I was doing, and I froze. Then I snatched it back and frowned. “Ahh, sorry.”
Anddd this was awkward.
I didn’t know what I was expecting him to do, but flashing a grin at me so wide I swore my heart stopped, wasn’t it. I’d seen him win championships on television before, of course he’d been smiling then, but… what just came across his face so abruptly was beyond unexpected.
All I did was stare dumbly back at him for a moment, long enough to look like a complete idiot, before I forced myself to remember poop, and I grinned back at him.
“Sal! We don’t have all day. Get your ass over here!” Simon called from somewhere behind me.
I met Kulti’s eyes once more, flashed him a smile like the one that had since melted from his face, and made my way over to the rest of the group.
Marc was looking back and forth between my coach’s headband and mine, the expression on his face smooth and curious.
It wasn’t until he swallowed what looked like a grapefruit that I could tell he was dying on the inside, and when his eyes shot over to me, it was confirmed.
“I like to play shortstop,” Carlos, the team captain for the game, announced.
A couple other men spoke up and announced the positions they thought they were good at.
This had me rolling my eyes because everyone thought they were good at the popular positions.
It happened every single time. All you had to do was nod and smile, and eventually things worked out fine.
I wasn’t impatient, and I didn’t mind playing the positions no one else liked.
Carlos looked at the four of us: Marc, Kulti, another man I didn’t know, and me. “You guys fine with playing outfield and second?”
I was only a little surprised when Kulti didn’t pipe up and voice his opinion, but when it was silently and unanimously agreed that we’d play whatever, those green-brown eyes met mine, and a smirk covered the lower half of his face.
Two seconds later, we were positioned across the field. I was in the outfield, and so was he.
Approximately ten minutes later, Simon was screaming off the sidelines, “This is horseshit!” after I’d caught the third out, following Kulti’s first catch, and a second one that he’d sent flying to third base with time to spare. Who would have known he’d have an arm on him?
We switched to batting, and not much changed. Kulti knocked the ball close to the fence to make it to third base on one run. I hit the ball far enough, allowing the player on first base to cross home. I ran fast enough and made it to second.