Page 62 of Hits Different

“Sounded more like biology. And no, I was prepared. And this one”, Will hops off the counter and claps me on the back, “Stayed out late last night”.

“Did he?” Archie grins, delighted. “You dog. Who’s the lucky lady?”

My stomach somersaults. “You wouldn’t know her”.

“Brandon better watch his back”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say sharply.

“Nothing. Sorry. He’s the resident eye candy, that’s all. How’s he doing anyway? I heard training has been a little rough the last few days”. Archie exchanges a glance with Will. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No”. If Brandon was having problems, he’d tell me. “Carter’s crushing it”.

“Glad to hear it. We’re going out for dinner later”, Will interjects diplomatically. “If you want to join us?”

I nod slowly. “I’ve got some work to do this afternoon”.

“Tell me about it”, Archie grins, as he and Will head back upstairs. “I know he’s family, but damn, your cousin sure knows how to run a tight ship”.

The business card for Zara’s MMA gym is still on the kitchen counter.

“He’s not so bad”, I say to the empty kitchen.

* * * *

Back in my bedroom, I glare at my reflection. I shouldn’t have been so sharp with Archie. And I shouldn’t have lied about who I was with. I’m still the same guy I was yesterday. Just with slightly broader horizons, that’s all.

There’s only one difference between yesterday and today. Yesterday, I had wondered what it would be like to try things again with Brandon. Today, I know exactly what it’s like, and I want to do it again.

It’s all I want to do. All I can think about.

My room has a decent view of the lower training field, and I peek out. In the distance, someone is haring from one end to the other. I don’t need to squint to recognise that form.

Carter.

He hurtles through the cones, taking the ball with him. He never breaks pace. He pauses for a split second, then flies back the same way, doing the circuit again. The ball whooshes into the net. And again. And again. I start timing him in my head. Was Archie right? Was something going on with him?

I frown. What’s he doing out there by himself anyway?

Where’s his coaches? He’d always be the last one out of practice, even in high school. Now, he was in the driving seat. Doing extra drills might notcausean injury, but even I knew that it was the quickest way to avoid recovering from one.

He skids to a stop at the edge of the field nearest me. He’s in a sleeveless shirt, with one leg of his shorts rolled up higher than the other. A trademark he’s always had, but now it does something to me that it never has before.

He grabs a water and pours it over himself. My worry is replaced by a much more enjoyable sensation. Damn, Carter.

I grab my phone. He answers a second later, sounding breathless.

“Special Contribution to best imitation of roadkill on a soccer pitch goes to…”

“Are you stalking me, Di Rossi? I never had you down as the clingy type”.

“I’m merely a simple city boy trying to enjoy a rare view of the greenery”, I click my tongue, “Unfortunately a two-minute wonder is blocking my view”.

Absently, my hand finds its way beneath my waist.

“Lies and slander. I was a four-minute wonder and you know it”.

“Seriously. You’re going pretty hard out there. You look exhausted”.

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