9

Luke

The day of the semi-final match dawns with the distant toll of bells. At least, that’s what I hear in my head all morning.

Or maybe that’s just the headache that appeared last night and has refused to leave since. Things have gotten more awkward between Spencer and I.

There’s this unfamiliar, grating tension whenever we’re in the same room together. I’ve taken to hiding in my room because I can’t handle the look on his face. It tugs at my heart like barbed wire.

I just want things to go back to normal. It’s been two days since I’ve seen his stupid smile directed at me, and I miss it.

A string of curses echoes from Spencer’s room and I wince. I’m sitting at the kitchen island, trying to down my protein shake before we leave for the coach driving us to the stadium. A protein square sits on my plate, more pushed around than eaten.

Every time I look at it, an image of Spencer with flour dotting his nose pops up in my mind. All I can think about is how much I want that again; us laughing together, doing silly things, and kissing sweetly in the kitchen.

I toss my fork next to the plate, giving up on the protein square as Spencer storms into the room. He’s half-dressed, as always, a sleeveless hoodie tossed over his bare shoulder. Anger rolls off of him in waves, visible in the clench of his jaw and the vein threaded over his forehead.

He tears across the living room, upending every sofa cushion, lifting the fluffy rug under the coffee table, and doesn’t spare me a glance.

“What’s wrong?” The words are out before I can stop them.

“I can’t find my lucky cleats, and the damn match is in a few hours.”

“I’ll put my breakfast away and help you find them.”

“No.” He winces, as if hearing how harsh he sounded, and takes a deep breath. When he speaks again, it’s much softer. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t gonna wear them, anyway, just wanted to bring them with me for support.”

He tells me to hurry up and get ready before throwing on the hoodie, grabbing his sports bag, and slipping out of the apartment.

Something heavy settles over my shoulders. I’d told him whatever happened between us was just for the bet, but now I’m not sure how true that is. I like touching Spencer and being touched by him. I miss his inability to bake, the blue fire of his eyes, his kind words and even kinder hands.

We haven’t gone this long without really speaking to each other in years. Even during winter breaks, I usually hang out with him, like hiking the mountain near Harper with our college friends or going Christmas shopping together.

We’re more than just teammates or roommates. Sometimes, I think I need him like I need to breathe.

Hall and Howard come as a pair, do not separate. And I’ve separated us, all because I didn’t want to see what was in front of my eyes this entire time. I like Spencer Hall more than as a friend.

A guy. But at this point, I don’t think I can say I’m surprised. I’ve never felt more alive than when he was touching me. Not with any girl I’ve kissed before.

Maybe I’m bisexual, or maybe it’s just Spencer that makes my heart race a million miles an hour, it doesn’t matter. All I know is I can’t go on like this, living in this weird limbo between friends and whatever we had going on.

Without Spencer, it’s like I’m missing half of myself.

*

The stadium is alive and bustling by the time our coach arrives, despite the match not being for at least a few more hours. Spencer’s mood doesn’t improve; he’s irritable with everyone, but he doesn’t snap like I would’ve expected even days ago. It’s like something’s holding him back.

Still, I can tell the loss of his lucky cleats weighs heavily on him. The urge to hold him and comfort him sweeps through me, but from the way his face goes blank when our eyes meet, I know that’s a lost cause.

I don’t get to do that, not anymore. I made sure of it.

Junseo finds me in the locker room a few hours before kick-off, my head between my legs, trying to breathe through the nerves. He takes one look at me before plopping down on the bench.

“You alright?”

“Never better,” I say between my knees.

“Usually, when you get like this you’ve got Spencer flapping around at your side.” He pauses, then places a hand on my shoulder. “Did something happen between you guys?”

I don’t know if it’s the stress of game day, or maybe Spencer’s anxiety rubbing off on me, but my carefully-built tower of defenses crumbles at the question.

“It’s nothing,” I start, but before I know it the words are tumbling out of me. Sitting up properly, I run a hand over my curls as I talk.

“—And now he won’t even look at me.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

Junseo groans. “I owe Ryan twenty bucks.”

“You guys bet on us?”

“Not really,” he says hastily at the look on my face. “Me and Ryan caught you two leaving the same room at my party. I told him nothing’s going on but you know how Ryan is.”

The biggest gossip in all of Oregon. If he weren’t a goalie, he’d be a great tabloid columnist—the kind that make up stuff about celebrities. It’s not malicious or anything, he just likes the drama of it all. And if there’s one thing about Spencer and I, it’s that we’re dramatic.

Shaking my head, I push that topic of discussion away for another time. Right now, I’m about to lose my best friend. “Can you please focus?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He raises his hands in surrender. “Did you mean what you said to him?”

Groaning, I thump my head against the row of lockers behind us. A day ago, I would have said yes, that nothing’s more important than winning these semi-finals. Now, I’m not so sure.

Scratch that. I know what it’s like not to have Spencer with me at all times, and it is hell. I want him back in more ways than one.

“But he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Junseo says, a grin playing on his lips. “He still talks about you like you’re God’s gift to mankind. One time he came into the gym so fucking smug I knew he’d gotten laid, but the bastard wouldn’t tell me what happened. All he said was that he’s well and truly done for.”

Warmth washes over me. That must have been after our time in the locker room.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always meant more to him than a quick lay.” He claps me on the back. “You guys are practically made for each other, Howard.”

The first time I saw you, I thought you were an angel.

I slide a hand over my face, sighing. “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

“Depends on whether or not you’d like things to stay ruined. You can always fix it.”

And I do want to fix it. But not to go back to being friends—unless that’s all he wants, which is perfectly fine and I would deserve it—but to go back to feeling like I did after the first kiss.

Like I’m floating on air and free falling off a cliff at the same time. Like I’ve found my home in his arms.

“I think I know what to do,” I say, the wheels churning in my mind. “How much would a half-hour ride cost?”

“Like fifty bucks. Why?”

“No reason. If anyone goes looking for me, tell them I’ll be back.”

He doesn’t say anything, eyeing me. For a moment I think I’ve made a mistake, and he’ll tell me to stop messing around and stay here. But he stands up, dragging me with him, and pulls me into a quick hug. I follow easily, gratitude welling in my chest.

What Coach says is true; you can always trust your teammates to have your back, both on and off the pitch.

Junseo steps back, a wry smile on his lips. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

“You’ve got this, Howard. I want a wedding invite as payment for my services, though.”

I elbow him in the side and feel a rush of satisfaction at his pained grunt as I hurry out of the locker room. I’ve got a mission to complete.

Maybe it’ll work, maybe it won’t. But I’m determined to show Spencer how much he means to me.