12. Lane
"Dude, what"s got his panties in a bunch this time?" I hear Miah quip as I move past them, choosing to ignore his smartass remarks.
I vaguely hear my name being called, but I need to get out of here. The blood that kept rushing to my cheeks when I was standing in front of that table is now throbbing inside my skull, making me woozy. Faces turn to look at me, a mixture of curiosity, concern, and maybe fear twisting their features. So many eyes on me. It"s hard to shrink into a crowd when you"re a head taller than nearly everyone in the room. People scramble out of my way as I make a beeline to the large glass doors that take up the front of the student union building.
Sensations accost me at every angle. Voices, so many voices, phones ringing, people talking, yelling, laughing, the squeak of sneakers on the polished floor. The hum of the drink machines in the lobby. The fluorescent lights are too bright, blinking and shaking the edges of my vision. Multiple screens around the room flash, cell phones light up, shadows move across the floor. It"s too warm and muggy. The air conditioner can"t keep up with the heat, the press of so many bodies, breathing and sweating and taking up every inch of space. The smells of the coffee cart compete with the dining hall downstairs, and the only benefit is that the competing aromas overwhelm the smell of Noah"s too-strong body wash that follows me. No one is touching me, yet it feels like I"m being held down, my clothes pulled and torn at, as I fight my way through too much everything.
Finally, I push through a set of double doors and out into the campus courtyard. There aren"t as many people out here, most have fled indoors as rain clouds blot out the sun. The pressure of the oncoming weather makes my ears pop and the headache that has been building all day throbs in my temples, but I breathe a sigh of relief that I"m free. I close my eyes as the first raindrops fall, a few small splashes cooling my face.
Why do I let Noah get to me like that? When it"s just the two of us, he"s tolerable. Why did I think it was a good idea to go anywhere with him? He still tries to get under my skin, but it feels more teasing and friendly. Not as malicious as it feels when he"s purposefully trying to embarrass me in front of others.
"Lane!"
A hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my thoughts, and my eyes fly open. I spin towards the voice calling my name and come face to face with Danny.
His usually smiling face is turned down in a concerned frown.
"Lane, are you okay?"
His hand is still on my shoulder, and I stare at it, fear coursing through my veins. He notices and pulls back immediately.
"Hey, I"m sorry," he says softly, and I don"t miss the hint of disappointment that tinges his words.
Realizing I haven"t said a word yet, I shake myself out of it.
"No, I"m sorry. I didn"t mean to be rude. I just have a headache, and it got too loud in there."
Danny nods understandingly, but his frown stays in place.
"Your brother seems like a piece of work," he says in a low voice.
I chuckle, attempting to cover up my discomfort. "Yeah, that"s just Noah being himself. He's always got jokes."
Danny hums noncommittally and shuffles his feet.
"You"re going to get wet," I tell Danny as it starts to sprinkle more steadily.
"So are you," he says, nudging my shoulder with his. My eyes dart around us, noticing we"re the only ones left outside, except for a few stragglers here and there that are holding umbrellas or running to their next destinations. None of them are so much as looking our way. When I cut my eyes to Danny, I see him watching me assess our surroundings.
"You"d be surprised how little people care about things happening outside their own bubble," he says.
My brow furrows. I think I know what he"s alluding to, but I don"t want him to get any ideas. It"s bad enough that Noah thinks he knows things about me. I certainly don"t need anyone else trying to prescribe me unnecessary advice.
When I don"t answer him, he shuffles his feet some more and clears his throat. I look up, not wanting to be rude, but then wish I hadn"t. He"s smiling softly, almost knowingly, and I don"t like it.
His hand touches mine, and I flinch so hard you"d think I was expecting to be hit. But Danny just holds out a folded piece of paper that looks like it was ripped off the bottom of a flyer. I don"t have to look at it to know what it is. I"d rather pretend to be ignorant. But Danny"s eyes are kind when he leans in, touching his shoulder to mine again.
"If you ever need someone to talk to—about anything. I can be discreet."
The word discreet echoes in my brain over and over, until the sky opens up, and I realize that I"m standing alone in the rain, my fist clenched tightly around the crumpled-up piece of paper.
The field is a mess, and so is every player on the field. We"re all soaking wet and splattered with mud, slipping and sliding through the muck as we fight to either score or defend. Three days of rain has made the field almost unusable, but there is too much to be done to get ready for the match coming up. This scrimmage has been intense, neither side giving any leeway or letting up. It"s a good sign that we"re playing well. We need to be on our A-game this weekend.
The whistle blows, and Coach Carr pulls one of our ace players to the bench to rest. He"s just recently healed from a pulled muscle, and we desperately need him in the starting lineup for Saturday"s match. Coach puts Noah in to cover his position. He takes the center forward position, which puts him in my direct eye-line from my place on the defensive back line. There"s a challenge in his eyes that I recognize, and it sends a little shiver of thrill up my spine.
We"ve barely spoken since the bullshit he pulled at the student union. He tried to apologize about it, sending me texts and trying to talk to me through my door at home, but I"m not in the mood to listen to his excuses. I don"t care how funny he thinks he is, or how harmless his jokes are, or whether he meant to embarrass me. I"m tired of being the butt of his jokes in public.
Not only that, but this might be a good opportunity to put some space between us. I got too comfortable, too quickly, and put myself at a disadvantage. I"ve given him the impression that he has power over me, allowing myself to be lulled into the idea that he could be my friend. I can"t trust him, and allowing him to use me for his sick games is stupid. Sitting around waiting for him to humiliate me is even worse.
I don"t need him. I don"t need him.
It"s the mantra I"ve been repeating in the days since pulling away from Noah. But it"s gotten to where the mantra itself has become part of the noise overwhelming my brain, another layer of pressure threatening to break me.
Strangely, looking into his eyes from across the field, the noise quiets some. How is it that one person can drive me to insanity and be one of the few things that calms me?
Thunder rolls, threatening the beginning of another storm, but no one on the field reacts. We"re determined to get through this scrimmage, none more so than me and my stepbrother. Part of me wonders if that"s why Coach Carr put him on the field this late in the game. The matchup has been a draw so far, and no one can compete with the competitiveness that sparks between me and Noah. We might as well make it interesting.
The ball is in play well before I move so much as a muscle. It"s only when Noah moves, sprinting up the field almost directly towards me, that my brain catches up to everything happening on the field. My eyes stay zeroed in on Noah, knowing that there"s no way they won"t pass him the ball. He"s fast and has all that fancy footwork that he loves to show off. If he'd pass more, he'd probably get more field time.
The moment Noah has the ball, running it swiftly down the field, skirting around every player in his path, I brace myself for the inevitable clash. Everyone else on the field disappears, and I circle the box, anticipating where Noah is most likely to make his shot. He knows our goalkeeper"s weaknesses and exactly what angle to shoot to take advantage of them, but I"ve been watching Noah play long enough to know all his tricks. I know he probably thinks he can move up to the starting eleven by showing off all his fancy moves. Too bad he made the mistake of pissing me off. It"s time for me to get a little payback.
The rain starts again, but I pay it no mind, closing in on my target like a homing missile. He senses me coming, his eyes burning with determination and challenge, running at me head on. He flinches left, but I don"t fall for it. I launch myself forward, diving and stretching out my leg to intercept the ball just as he tries to redirect. I slide in the mud, spraying it in a wide arc, and my foot makes contact with the ball. Noah falls forward, diving headfirst towards the ground. I quickly gain my balance, using the momentum of my slide and one of Noah"s own tricks to get around another player. Mud and rain drip over my face as I take the ball well past midfield, setting it up for Danny Hastings to launch the ball cleanly into the net.
The field erupts, and Danny runs straight to me. I raise both my hands above my head for a double high-five, but he grabs both of my hands, holding them above my head and yelling in my face.
"Yassss!!!!"
I don"t know what else he or anyone else is saying. I"m yelling back. You"d think we"d just scored the winning goal in a high priority match, not a practice scrimmage.
"Did you see his face!?" Danny yells, squeezing my arm.
"Who?" I ask, out of breath and still smiling.
Danny tilts his chin towards Noah, who is slowly making his way to the sidelines, where everyone is exiting the field. He looks pissed, and it doesn"t look like the pats on the back from his teammates are helping. His entire front, including his face, isn"t just sprinkled with mud like the rest of us, it"s caked with mud.
"I almost missed my chance to follow you to the net because I was so busy laughing. He totally face-planted," he laughs. "You took him out!"
Danny is a little too excited about me showing Noah up, and I have to nudge him to quiet down. But when Noah is within hearing distance, Danny turns around and points directly at me.
"Nice play, superstar. Drinks are on me!" He says it as if we have plans, or like I ever go out with the rest of the team.
Whatever his reasoning for saying it, I have to admit to holding in a satisfied smirk when Noah stomps past me to the locker rooms. I don"t bother pretending I"m going to stick around, both to avoid my stepbrother"s wrath and any invitations from Danny. A couple guys thump me on the back as I walk past, or call out their congratulations for a good play, before I set off into the rain towards the apartment.
I"m so freaking pumped up and feeling good, the blood is surging towards my crotch the entire way through my shower. I"m grinning ear to ear, walking on air, as I wash off all the grime from practice and head into my room. I consider texting Danny to thank him, wondering if I should give talking to him a try. Even if I"m not interested in him like that, he said we could talk, and he seems like a nice guy. I"m feeling brave enough.
I don"t go for my phone right away, though, instead reveling in the moment. I flop down on my bed with a deep, satisfied sigh. There"s something so empowering about having this one thing, this one moment, over Noah. I know it won"t last, but damn, it feels good.
Really good.
The cool air of my ceiling fan sends a tickle of awareness that my towel has fallen open. The breeze sends gooseflesh over my thighs, and my half hard dick throbs to full mast. Not allowing myself to think too much about it, I wrap my hand around the base of my shaft and slowly stroke upwards. A low moan reverberates through my chest, and my eyes flutter closed. Behind my heavy lids, Noah"s hard stare of determination bores into me, setting my blood on fire. My breathing picks up as my fist tightens, and my strokes increase. I hear his voice in the back of my head.
"You like that, don"t you, Lane?"
"You like being my dirty little slut behind closed doors?"
"Say my name when you come."
I"m frantically beating myself when the front door opens and heavy footsteps stomp through the apartment. Launching out of my bed, I hastily pull the towel to cover myself and lunge to shut the door just as Noah comes into view.