Page 17 of Hits Different

I’ve travelled to other cities to compete in judo and boxing tournaments. The walk out to the ring, and every second in from the first bell to the last? Crushed it. I’ve been the welfare kid smashing through college admission interviews. I delivered the eulogy at my dad’s funeral when I was fourteen, and two years later, I gave the toast at my mom’s second wedding.

During all of those things—big f’ing deal things—I never got nervous.

But seeing my best friend for the first time in three years, after everything that happened? Yeah. I’m nervous.

I swipe my pass to get into the staffroom, and head to my locker. Brandon closes the door behind us, instantly reducing the pounding music to a dull thud. The room’s got a square window overlooking the bar, out of which I can see people chatting and dancing.

Is he going to bring it up? That night? No. No way. Not with his team right outside.

You were young, I remind myself. But somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better. But now’s my chance to repair things. My mouth is suddenly very dry. “Here”, I pass him a plain white t-shirt, “This should fit”.

There’s a stillness to him, now that he’s alone and not surrounded by his boys. Our fingers graze gently as he takes the shirt from me.

He pulls his sling clumsily over his head, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. I catch a flash of tanned, tight muscle before his eyes catch mine. I turn my back to give him some privacy. “Don’t leave”.

“I wasn’t going to”.

“I can’t have you abandoning me twice in one day”.

There’s a tingling in my legs that wasn’t there a minute ago. “I wasn’t sure if you’d seen me”.

“I saw you. We saw each other”. He excuses the obvious lie. “It feels redundant to ask how things are going after such a long time”.

The last disastrous 24 hours jolt through my mind. “Things are awesome”.

“You came to my game”. The accusation hangs invitingly in the air.

“I heard a rumour that the star striker was planning on a man vs goalpost showdown”, I spot Marshall and some of the other guys arriving. I force down the wave of apprehension that accompanies them. “Couldn’t miss that”.

“I hope my performance didn’t disappoint”. He messes up his hair into an imperfect quiff. “It’s weird that it’s been so long. We shouldn’t—Ishouldn’t have let so much time pass without us talking”. He fumbles with his sling, a wince of pain flashing across his face.

“Here, let me”, I cross over to him quickly.

“I got it”.

“It’s just twisted”, I gently untangle him. He stands flawlessly still as I carefully slide his arm back into the sling and tighten it behind his neck. “You scared me, you know”. I say, to the back of his neck.

“I scare myself sometimes. One hell of a goal”.

“I’m serious, Carter”.

“So am I”. He tosses out a lopsided shrug. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me. To talk to me”. A beat. “I didn’t think anything ever scared you, Di Rossi”.

“I think about talking to you all the time”, I say, surprising myself.

His lips part slightly. He takes one careful step forwards. Not even my shadow can fit between us. “I go back to that night all the time and imagine doing things differently”.

There’s a quick knock on the door. Brandon pulls away as Tiffany pokes her head in. “Parker, your friends are here”. She flashes me a warm smile, before turning to Brandon, “And yours look like they’re leaving”.

She disappears as quickly as she arrived, taking the moment with her.

“She seems nice”. Brandon’s expression is fixed at neutral. “Girlfriend?”

“What? No, just a friend. Work-friend”.

There’s a roar of laughter from outside. I glance through the glass panel on the door, and my blood runs cold. Darwin and Barlow stand side by side with Marshall. Dawin’s meant to be in Vermont. What the hell are they doing here?

“Listen, would you maybe want to get a drink some time?” Brandon says, something unfamiliar in his tone. “When I’m less wet and you’re less at work?”

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