The Beautiful Game

Chapter Twenty Seven - Lou

    The guy in front of me was the furthest thing I'd seen from the cocky, untouchable quarterback I'd encountered before. Even from the outside, a simple observer could see that Carter's life was executed with a level of control. He needed it and he thrived in it. There were many large gold trophies with his name engraved on them in the University's cabinets to prove it.

    I'd certainly learned for myself that whenever Carter's control in a situation had altered, he'd claw it back however he could. Whether it was by reminding me of my social standing or sexual ineptitude, even now, deflecting my attention towards the sad, stuck candy bar.

   The Carter stood in front of me was in a situation that he had no control of.

    Regardless of everything, I hated seeing him uncomfortable. I'd recognise that lost look in his eyes anywhere, because it often lived within my own.

    "Now would have been a good time for the butter joke." A shocked laugh bursts out of him, pulling from where he'd been resting against the vending machine.

   Huzzah! A laugh, a real laugh. Must resist the urge to fist pump.

    I smile at him, enthralled by the now genuine smile across his features, so handsome I almost can't catch my breath.

    There's a small red mark on his forehead where he'd been pressed against the glass; I don't point it out, something as human as that is a relief to see on Carter. He still doesn't seem real sometimes, like our conversations have only ever been in my head and in reality, we've still never met.

    "You good?" I ask.

    "I'm good. I'm going to head back soon, Isobel- my sister, just wanted to see him. Thank you." His eyes journey across my face, lingering as he takes a deep breath, I feel a blush creep across my skin.

    Nope. No sir, not happening.

    "Well, I guess now I know that you've not got some incurable disease I can go back to hating you."

   "I deserve that." He nods his head slightly; messy brown curls fall across his forehead with the movement.

    "Ah, no wait, there's still your personality." I do everything I can to keep my voice steady. He folds his arms across his chest, the stance all too familiar now for our sparring.

    "Ouch Blondie." Someone's bleeper goes off nearby, reminding me of our surroundings. God, did my sleep deprived brain just completely forget that Carter is only here because his dad had a literal heart attack? Remember Lou, heart attack equals bad.

   "Shit, that was mean." He smirks down at me.

    "It was... creative."

    "I shouldn't have said that. It's just... I don't..." I struggle to find the right words, Carter leans close enough that I can smell him, the fresh smell of his shower gel from after training, warm on his skin. I squeeze my eyes closed and just decide to get the words out before I can mess this up anymore. "I don't just go around kissing people Carter, especially not like that. I want things back to normal."

   Aka, back to when I didn't talk to anyone of the opposite sex besides Professor Simmons and my brothers; and hid safely amongst textbooks, yep. Alexa, please play: If I could turn back time by Cher.

    Carter just stares at me, long enough that I actually wonder whether he can hear my ridiculous internal monologue.

   "What do you mean, like that?"

    Jesus where do I start? Like we're about to rip each other's clothes off? Like it meant something?

    "This is not the time or place to explain it, all I'll say is it's just not like me." I shrug my shoulders, crinkling the polyester of the forest green scrub top. Carter raises an eyebrow.