13. No. 11 Try a new sport
thirteen
August
Eli and I have been on this Rugby team for over a decade.
It’s not an official team, we don’t meet weekly or take part in any kind of league, we just play charity matches against similar teams when someone can be bothered to organise it.
I always enjoy it and because I’m bigger than anyone else on the pitch, I’m at an advantage.
I brought Bea and Connor with me, my truck smelling like chocolate the whole journey, and now they’re stood behind a foldaway table talking to the onlookers for today’s match.
Bea catches my eye and smiles, giving me a small wave that has my lips tipping up and that weird flutter in my chest kickstarting again.
“You are so into her,” Eli says by my side, ball tossing between his hands.
“Fuck off,” I snap, dragging my gaze from Bea and pretending like I wasn’t just giving her heart eyes.
“Nope,” my best friend says, obviously enjoying himself way too much. “We’re teammates, bud, you’ve got to put up with me. And I’m going to be pointing out every time you moon over that girl.”
“You know what?” I turn on him, totally ready to tell him how wrong he is, but my eyes catch on the team across the pitch, and my fake ire turn into real rage. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
Eli turns to follow my glare, and I see the way he tenses, making me all the more pissed. Ross Purcell stands with our opposing team, dressed in uniform and stretching. “I guess he’s playing,” Eli says.
Fucking perfect. “If he says anything to you, I’m going to punch him,” I growl and Eli turns back to look at me with sad eyes and his lips pressed into a thin line. “No, you won’t. That’s not you.”
“Watch me.” I stare Eli down, letting him know how serious I am. Ross was a dick to Eli all through high school, made his life difficult, bullied him for being gay, and even got physical with him a couple of times. He’s a fucking arsehole and I don’t want my friend to have to deal with that again.
“School was a long time ago, August.” Eli sighs. “I’m sure Ross has grown up along with the rest of us.”
“You’re too forgiving,” I tell my friend, wishing I could be so positive sometimes. “Just stay away from him and I’ll make sure he stays away from you.”
Eli smirks. “You know I don’t need a bodyguard, right?”
This is true. I’m taller than Eli, but I’m taller than everybody, but he’s jacked.
He has a gym in the cellar at the pub, and he basically works out whenever he’s not working, runs every morning come rain or shine, and he’s a fucking beast on the pitch.
I have height and a natural bulk on my side, but I can’t be bothered with working out, my belly is soft, and a fair amount of my bulk isn’t muscle.
Still, I could take Ross fucking Purcell.
“No, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have one.” I clap him on the shoulder, and he gives me a small smile.
“Love you too,” he tells me, and I grunt. “But, remember your impressionable nephew is here. Hard to give him shit for getting into fights at school if you pummel Ross to the ground for looking at me wrong.”
I shrug. “I’ll make it work.”
Eli shakes his head, but he’s smiling as we’re called to start. The ref calls for a friendly game in keeping with the men’s mental health charity we’re raising money for and when Ross grins at me like a fucking psychopath, I know it’s not going to go well.
For a while I forget all about Ross and play a good game.
Eli and I working well together, just as we have for twenty-five years, since our parents first put us into little league.
Eli has speed and precision; I have the tackle power of a raging bull.
Any time I’m not running, my eyes find their way to Bea, she seems to have a steady stream of people visiting her stall, and she’s always chatting and smiling to whoever’s there.
It’s when I’m distracted, looking in Bea’s direction for the approximate millionth time, that Ross flies into me, knocking us both to the ground with enough force the wind is knocked out of my lungs.
Holy fuck, I might have broken a rib. The pain is intense but not too much for me to shove Ross off of me.
“Zelig, you okay?” Tony, our ref says, running over. “What the hell happened? I didn’t see anything.”
Yeah, probably because the ball is the other side of the pitch and there was absolutely no reason for me to be tackled.
“Sorry about that, Zelig,” Ross pants, clambering to his feet with a smug grin. “Didn’t see you there.”
I’m still catching my breath, so I don’t say anything, but I see Tony frown at Ross and hear thudding footsteps on the grass. “Hey, you good?” Eli asks, coming up to me with a look of concern and holding his hand out to pull me up.
“Peachy,” I say, letting him haul me to my feet.
Play continues and when I dart my gaze back to the concession tables, Bea is no longer behind her stall but standing on the side of the pitch, face pinched in worry. I give her a small smile of reassurance and jog back into position, ignoring the smarting in my side.
We’re up by two points by the end of the first half and I’m caked in mud and sweat, panting. I go to the refreshment stand where I down a cup of water before throwing another over my head. Eli joins me, barely out of breath and grinning.
“We’re going to win,” he says confidently.
“If you say so,” I huff.
“That’s the spirit,” he laughs, slapping my back and making me spill my third cup of water.
“Of course, we’d probably be doing better if you could focus more on the game than the view,” he muses, and I pull my eyes from where Bea is crouched down talking to a kid holding his mother’s hand.
I hadn’t even realised I was staring again.
“What?”
“Dude,” Eli says. “Just ask her out.”
“No,” I snap, instinctively.
He rolls his eyes and goes to sip from his own cup when he’s shoulder checked and ends up spilling it down his shirt. I glare at Ross even when Eli subtly shakes his head at me in warning.
“Elijah,” Ross says to Eli. “How’ve you been? Suck any good dick lately?”
Eli tenses, keeping his back to his old high school bully
Anger bubbles in me. “Watch it, Purcell.”
“What?” he asks innocently. “Just catching up with an old friend.”
“Fuck off,” I tell him.
“I’m getting a drink!”
“Come on,” Eli says, grabbing my arm and trying to lead me away. My jaw is clenched tight, nostrils flaring as I stare daggers at Ross who smiles sweetly back.
We’re only a couple of steps away, me walking backward to keep glaring when Ross speaks again. “I see your hot neighbour’s here today.”
“Oh shit,” Eli mumbles by my side as I heat with rage, muscles shaking with barely leashed control.
“You tapping that?” Ross continues like the grotesque idiot he is. “Because I don’t want to go for your sloppy seconds.”
I see red. Ross sees me coming. It’s a blur, reality fading in and out as the pounding in my ears keeps a somewhat steady rhythm.
My fists curl into the front of Ross’s black and white rugby shirt and we both crash into the collapsible table, which does in fact collapse.
Water flies everywhere, soaking both of us through, and I’m vaguely aware of shouts and shrieks from the onlookers around us.
My teeth are bared, I’m sure my eyes are crazed as Ross cries out, fear and surprise in his eyes as I land on top of him.
I’m not sure what my plan is, I’m really not the violent type, but this motherfucker has spent years torturing my best friend and now he has the gall to talk like that about my…
your what, you idiot? Whatever. All I know is I have to stop all of his stupid words coming out of his stupid mouth.
I’m over Ross as he quakes beneath me, my hands still gripping his shirt, knuckles white with the strain.
He has his hands around my wrists, trying to pry me away, but he doesn’t want that.
If I free a hand, it’s smacking his annoyingly handsome mug.
I pull him up by his shirt and shake him a little.
“What the fuck did you say to me?” I roar in his face.
“I-I-I…” he stutters.
“Have some fucking respect!”
I’m suddenly surrounded, strong hands tugging at me on my shoulders, the back of my shirt, and my sides until I’m forced to let go, flying to my feet and being held by multiple people to stop me from lunging back at Ross as he’s helped up far more gently.
“What the hell, August?” Tony shouts at my side. “This is rugby, a gentleman’s sport. You want to act like a hooligan, the football team meet up the road in an hour.”
My chest expands and deflates in quick, hard breaths and I’m pretty sure I’m snarling as Ross scampers to his feet and looks back at me with bulging eyes and trembling lips.
I shoved Ross up against a few lockers in school, warning him off Eli.
I crowded him, talked smack, but I never hurt him, never got violent.
He’s probably in shock and serves him right, he pushed me to my limit.
“Hey,” Eli barks, coming to stand in front of me. “Hey.”
I look at my best friend, who looks almost as shocked as Ross. I make a conscious effort to slow my breathing and stop struggling against the hold of those still keeping me from attacking. We stare at each other for a beat, a silent what the fuck coming from him.
“Are we good here?” Tony asks. “Do I need to kick the both of you out of the game or are you going to grow up and play a decent game without all the shenanigans?”
“He attacked me!” Ross squeals, like pig.
“And you tackled him on the field completely unnecessarily, not to mention you’re a grade A prick,” Tony counters and snickers sound out around us, Ross looking incensed. “Now, either you both promise to behave, or you both hit the showers, no in between. What’s it going to be?”
“I’m good,” I grumble, shaking off the guys still holding me.
Ross doesn’t say anything straight away, still eyeing me warily like a grizzly bear passing in the woods. Someone I don’t recognise wearing the same kit as Ross nudges him firmly, making him splutter is response. “Yeah, o-okay.”
“Good, game starts now, let’s go.” Tony punctuates the order with a sharp clap and we’re all moving back to position.
When I look back at Bea and Connor, he’s mouthing ‘fuck yeah’ to me and I internally groan because he’s definitely going to use this as an excuse the next time he decides to throw fists.
Bea has her bottom lip pinched between her teeth and it’s not disgust or disappointment showing in her blue eyes.
It’s concern and maybe something a little hotter that has blood pooling in my centre and my heart pumping a little harder.
We win the game; I may have played harder and faster than I had before and Ross may have been avoiding me like a landmine.
I hit the showers and scrub up quickly, changing into my shorts and t-shirt and hurrying out of the changing room, going straight to where Bea and Connor are packing up their table.
“That was fucking epic, man.” Connor laughs without looking up from stacking cake boxes.
“You’re traveling back with Eli,” I tell him, ignoring his praise.
“Why?” He scrunches his face up.
“Because I said so.” I turn to Bea. “Are you ready to go?”
“Oh uh…I just need to—”
“Eli will help Connor with the rest,” I say, a little tersely.
Rather than recoiling, she looks at me with understanding and nods. “Okay, I’m ready.”
I can see Connor blinking at me, clearly confused as to what’s going on, and honestly, I don’t have an explanation for him.
All I know right now is I want to get Bea away from here and I want her alone, for no other reason than having slimeballs like Ross Purcell looking at her is giving me the rage shakes.
Bea easily falls into step beside me, and my hand goes to the small of her back, feeling the warmth of her through her form fitting tank and the sway of her hips as she walks.
“Good game,” Bea says.
“Thanks.” I open the passenger side door of the truck and wait for her to hop up. When she’s in, she cups my cheek and looks down at me with sincerity and something like fondness.
“You okay?” she asks softly.
I nod, unable to form words and gently pull her hand away, closing the door without saying anything more because I’m anything but okay.