Nothing much, just Ryan's first soccer game.
I don't own the OC or any of its characters.
xxxx
"So, Ryan!" Sandy greeted his foster son enthusiastically as he entered the kitchen. "Big day today!"
Ryan looked up from the book he was reading.
"First game!"
Ryan nodded. "Yeah."
"Nervous?"
Ryan tried a "look," but Sandy would not be deterred and continued to grin at Ryan.
Ryan shrugged.
"You'll do great. Your coach says you've been working hard."
Ryan shrugged again, looking down at his book. Sandy smiled and opened the cabinet for a coffee mug.
Ryan shot a glance at Sandy's back before trying to focus on his book. Sandy moved toward the coffee maker, pouring himself a cup. He turned back to Ryan. "Need a refill?"
Ryan held out his mug. As Sandy filled it, Ryan shifted his eyes to Sandy, to his book, and back again. Topping off Ryan's mug finished the pot, so Sandy turned back to the sink, rinsing it out and starting another.
Chewing his lip, Ryan considered the back of Sandy's head.
Sandy dumped the used grounds into the garbage can.
"Ummm." Sandy turned and met Ryan's eyes, and Ryan dropped his gaze back to his book. Leaning back against the counter, Sandy waited until Ryan raised his eyes again. Sandy could see the uncertainty in the boy's eyes.
"Are you...are you coming to the game?" Ryan's eyes returned to his book, and he felt his face burn. Why had he asked? It wasn't like it mattered – he didn't care whether Sandy came or not. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
"I'm going to do everything I can. I didn't want to say anything, just in case something comes up." Sandy promised himself at that moment that nothing would come up. "I don't want to say I'll be there if I'm not absolutely certain." He caught Ryan's eyes as they skittered past him. "Okay?"
Ryan's shoulder lifted in a carefully unconcerned shrug, his eyes on the book again. "Yeah, okay."
Ryan, dressed in his soccer uniform, sat on a bench in the locker room. Battling a stomach that bucked and rolled, he listened absently to the coach's speech, wondering, in spite of himself, whether or not Sandy would be at the game.
Don't think about it, he told himself. Don't. He won't come.
The coach dismissed the team, and Ryan ran with the other boys out of the sports building on to the field. As he ran, his eyes scanned the bleachers.
Don't! He shook his head angrily, forcing himself to look away. Making his way to the sidelines, he cast one last, involuntary look at the bleachers. There was Seth, waving energetically. No Sandy. Ryan lifted his hand to Seth, smiling briefly. He was dismayed by the almost overwhelming sense of disappointment that Sandy wasn't there. He'd allowed himself to hope. Stupid, he thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"Atwood! Let's go!" The coach's bark called Ryan back to the task at hand, and he ran on to the field.
As he ran, Ryan forced the unexpected and unwanted ache down deep where he wouldn't have to deal with it. It made him angry that he felt anything at all. He knew better than to have expected Sandy to come. Focus, idiot. Concentrate. Why do you even care? He kicked the ball that was passed to him. I don't, he thought fiercely. I don't.
Sandy sat in his car, glancing at his watch and grinding his teeth. Come on, he urged. Move it!
Ryan played like a man possessed. It was the half before he would spare a glance for anything off the field. As he headed to the bench, he raised his eyes to the bleachers, searching out Seth. He caught sight of Seth's curly head bobbing up and down enthusiastically. Ryan couldn't help the grin that split his face at the excited gestures Seth was using to convey his approval for Ryan's performance. Adrenaline pumping, Ryan raised both fists to Seth in acknowledgement. Clapping wildly, Seth leaned over to the person standing beside him, and Ryan shifted his gaze. Sandy. Ryan faltered and felt is heart start to pound as he realized that Sandy had come.
After the game, Ryan ran with his teammates to the locker room. He'd waved at Seth and Sandy in the stands, as he'd headed off the field. Both had waved back, grinning, before they'd started down the bleachers, Seth taking giant steps from one bench to the next as Sandy chatted animatedly with one of the other parents.
Ryan listened impatiently to the coach's wrap up of the game, battling the fear that if he took too long Sandy and Seth would be gone. He'd showered quickly, thrown on his clothes and rushed out of the locker room. Right before he'd burst hurriedly out the doors to where the parents would be waiting, Ryan forced himself to slow down.
He walked as nonchalantly as he could out the doors of the fieldhouse.
"Hey!" Sandy clapped Ryan on the back. "Great game!"
Ryan shrugged, unable to suppress a small grin of pleasure. "Thanks."
Sandy threw an arm around the shoulders of both his boys. "Kirsten's finished with work. Let's go grab dinner."