Page 67 of Dark Little Game
He fist bumps both of us and heads over to talk to a couple of our new players this year.
“God fuckingdamn, that felt good,” Weston says, clapping me on the back as we enter the locker room after practice. “Ready to crush some Tennyson skulls in?”
“They’re still good players. Stay humble.”
“Oh, give me a break. I respect all of the guys. Still want to win every single game we play this year.”
We shower off, toss on some clothes, and I walk out onto campus with Weston.
“This is it, Rayne,” Weston says as our shoes crunch on leaves scattered on the walkway. “Shit started out crazy this year, but we’re going to change that.”
“I agree. We need a good week.”
“Want to watch a movie in the main room tonight? Just us? If the other guys come in we’ll tell them we need our private time.”
I laugh and give him a shove. “For a straight guy, you’re more loyal than my own ex-boyfriend was.”
“How is shit with Mikael, by the way? Heard from his punk ass lately?”
“No,” I say, staring up at the trees. “I hope I never have to talk to him again.”
And I sure as fuck hope he doesn’t talk to you, after seeing my tongue in your brother’s mouth.
Luckily Mikael doesn’t ever talk to Wes, and neither does Tara.
My footsteps crunch over a few leaves on the sidewalk.
The leaves are just starting to change for the season. Green maple leaves are starting to become tinged with yellow and gold at the edges.
I can feel fall coming in the air, too.
It even smells different, at this time of the year.
Maybe it’s the smell of the leaves themselves, or maybe there’s just somebody grilling far off. But autumn always has its own scent.
“Hey. Uh, Rayne?” Wes says.
“What’s up?”
When I look over at Weston, I can tell he’s waiting to talk.
He looks hesitant, for some reason.
“I knew Mikael was wrong for you,” Weston finally says. “I should have warned you at the time. But I didn’t want you to…”
I lift my eyebrow as he trails off. “Want me towhat?”
He sighs. “Didn’t want you to think I was butting in on your first real relationship.”
My heart aches a little, hearing him say it. “Wes.”
“What?”
“You’re too nice to me.”
He pauses again for a while, then shakes his head. “I just want what’s best for you. I always have. Since you were twelve years old and wearing those fucking shoes with holes in them.”
I remember it well.
