25. Konnor
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
konnor
When he gets riled up, he usually spits.
“Fuck you, Slater! You missed the last two practices and now you wanna play? You’re a real piece of work! Ya know that? Mess with my time, and now you show up like nothing happened.”
Nodding, I say through my mouth guard, “Yes, Coach. Sorry, Coach.”
“Well, fuck you! Sit on the bench.”
I frown at him. “You need me out there! You can’t put David on the wing!” I yell. I gesture disdainfully towards the clumsy tool taking my position on the field.
Coach flips me off. “Fuck you, Slater. David is reliable. He’s been here all week.”
What an arsehole.
“Fine!” I storm over to the bench, slam my body down, and chew on my guard.
I glare out at the field; the smell of freshly mowed grass and the sounds of the lads rumbling surrounds me.
I really need to play. These past two days have drained me emotionally—I need a release from my thoughts.
Need to feel my muscles burn. Need to hit someone.
Blesk and Elise will probably still be asleep.
I really wish she’d stayed with me last night, slept in my bed, let me hold her.
Goddammit, I don’t want to go another night without her next to me.
When I woke up spooning her yesterday, with her body snug against mine, the smell of her hair in my face, I felt home.
Seen. Complete. I’d been suffocating without her.
Fuck me, I was excited, but then those beautiful brown eyes peered up at me from my pillow, and it all faded away.
I had to do a double-take before realising her face was telling me a silent goodbye. It was fleeting, but I saw it.
Like we were over.
Like Konnor and Blesk were over.
She looked absolutely gutted that I’m the boy from her past. Does the man I am disappoint her? The boy she saved is a drunken idiot not worth saving after all.
And that wasn't the last time I'd saw that look either. When she thought she was alone with her thoughts, I watched her from the doorway, watched her face fall and panic. She wasn’t happy to see me.
Suddenly I was reeling with scenarios of losing her—again.
Then the cold coffee she pretended to like, then the bacon and eggs she wouldn’t have been able to stomach.
The box with memories and her persistence in referring to herself in third person.
I know things aren’t smooth between us, even as we smiled and shared our past with Elise.
I know she’s not throwing herself into us.
And that makes me want to hold on tighter.
Keep her closer. Elise called me a fucking psycho and that is exactly how I feel.
Then the Erik shit…
Forcing those memories down, I focus on the field, wanting a few hours away from thoughts of that fucker.
Coach turns towards me.
Aggressively, he fists the front of my jersey, dragging me to my feet “Get on the field, Slater. If David wasn’t such a complete waste of space, you would be benched for weeks.” Before I can move, he adds, “Don’t piss me off today.”
“Yes, Coach!”
I jog out to join Jax and the lads on the field.
Flexing my neck, cracking my jaw, I jump up and down to loosen up.
After a good amount of time on the sidelines, I know who I can dominate out here and who I need to watch out for.
There is one guy I haven’t seen for a while, on the opposing team, Max Butcher.
He doesn’t always play. Kinda shows up when he wants, then leaves.
Typical. Last time I saw him, he was playing for The Wedges at Connolly High.
We both grew up in The District; however his mates were never the kind I wanted to associate with.
I watch him for a moment. Fuck—Max is built like a brickhouse, but he's not slow. He is fast like a mother-fucking six-legged cheetah, and he doesn’t slow down for anything. Dude will put someone in hospital one day.
Erik…
Dammit. And now I’m thinking about him in hospital, waking up and telling his boss what really happened to him.
That was weird… The way those men claimed him yesterday.
Spoke for him. Would he convince them to press charges after all?
What’s he gonna say? I was raping my fucking sister, and he got in the way? Fucker. I clench my jaw.
I stretch, thinking about a million things all at once: Liz, Erik without appendages…
Then the whistle blows.
Jacob feeds the ball into the scrum. I eyeball the opposing captain, feeling on edge to move. To run. To slam into someone. As soon as Jonno has the ball, my feet start pounding the turf. I’m thinking about only a few things now.
The ball. Their defence. The line.
It’s like dodgeball, but instead of dodging balls, I’m ducking and weaving through incoming brick walls with fucking arms. It is a good thing I’m fast.
Flex has the ball now.
Panting hard, I trail him up, keeping myself open, knowing it will come to me upon release. He tosses the ball. The leather thuds against my chest. The ball is in my hands, and now I have only one thing on my mind.
The try line.
My eyes dart around, checking the incoming flesh traffic.
Running, I dodge and swerve, jumping over the dickhead who crashes to the ground in front of me, opening up the field for a clear run.
My feet thud the ground. I am there. Plenty of time.
Giving the crowd a shit-eating-grin, I dive, driving the ball into the grass.
Try, bitches!
“What a game, hey? Too bad they didn’t put me in earlier,” I say, stuffing some gear inside my locker. Despite showering and the scent of bleach inking the air, I usually leave this room feeling like I need another shower.
A small scoff escapes Jax.
Turning to face him, I say, “What’s wrong with you?”
He huffs. “A lot.”
Right… I haven’t really explained the whole Erik’s face my fist thing, but we don’t talk about these things. We just accept silence and move on. That’s us. We don’t need to talk… Do we? Maybe an acknowledgment is enough?
I wander over to him and place my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, man.”
He tenses, frowning at me. “That was fucked up.” He slams his locker shut. “You nearly killed him.”
I sigh hard. He’s right. All I can think is too bad I didn’t. I don’t say that. “That layer of fucked up is just the icing on top of a layered cake of fucked up. Trust me.”
He looks at the ground, shaking his head angrily. “See, that’s the thing, isn’t it? You’re not gonna tell me. Just like everything else that goes on with you. You’re not gonna explain or let me in.”
I’m taken aback.
He wants me to let him in?
All I can do is offer him a tight smile. “It isn’t just mine to tell. Can you understand that? I mean, mate, I get it, you deserve to know something, but I can’t tell you without Blesk’s permission. This is her—"
“You called her a different name and she freaked out!”
Yeah… about that… Fuck.
I blow out hard. “Yeah, because we used to know each other, as kids, and I lost her, but..." I pause. How the fuck do I say this? “Now I've found her. Her name was Liz then.”
Shaking his head, he stares at me as if he doesn’t recognise me. “Is that all you can give me? I just saw my best mate nearly kill my other mate, then get handcuffed and released all in one fucking afternoon. Not to mention the fact Elise had to witness that.”
I nod. He’s right. “Yeah. I know.”
“And Erik? Was he doing what I thought he was doing when we got down there?”
“Erik can go to hell,” I snap. “I swear if you knew what he was doing, you might not have pulled me off him.”
His frown deepens. “I still would have, Slater. Even if it was just to stop you from going to jail.”
Well fuck.
“Just..." I pause, glancing to the side as another lad enters the locker room. I lower my voice. “Trust me?”
Jax sighs hard, also noting the spectator who is now tying his shoelaces at the bench beside us. “Beer tonight?”
“I have to get Blesk. I have a few things planned, but maybe we will come by the hall after.” After every home game, we host a postgame piss-up.
We didn’t win—had I been on field for the whole game I'm sure we would have—still, it’s our job to host the party.
I’ve never missed one—or any socially approved excessive drinking occasion—but Blesk is my number one priority… whether she likes it or not.
Maybe I should go. For Jax…
Slinging my sports bag over my shoulders, I look at him, wanting to say more. I want to squeeze his shoulder or tap him on the back, but I don’t. A feeling of appreciation and regret moves through me. “I wasn’t going to come by the party tonight, but I will. We’ll have a beer. I’m still me.”
“Yeah,” he says through a curt scoff, and I can almost hear the underlying, ‘I don’t think I know who you are.’
He turns and walks away from me and doesn’t look back, the icy retreat punching me in the guts.
Feeling guilty, I leave the locker-room and make my way across campus, trying to focus on my plans for Blesk today. The song she wrote when she was eight, ‘One Day,’ gave me an idea.
A very hopeful idea, really.
By the time the sun drops behind the horizon tonight, Blesk will remember why she loved Deakon, and she’ll be just as committed to this thing between us as I am.
I know she’s scared. I know she’s put this behind her.
I heard her. I did. I’m the living embodiment of that tragedy and memory, and with my presence comes pain.
I’m happy that she moved on, but— But fuck.
I haven’t. I couldn’t. I believe we’re worth any pain or fucking soul-searching involved, worth the struggle, worth the fighting.
This is fate—us presented on a silver platter. It’s worth everything, dammit!
That little girl loved me, as much as I loved her, and Blesk is pulling away from that. I won’t let her. I can’t let her. She needs to remember us. How it can be simple and fun. How we found joy in the dark that kept us.
I reach into my pocket and retrieve my phone, wanting to know where she is right now.
Konnor: Duchess, where are you at the moment?
Blesk: At home.