Chapter 4

As it turned out, distracting the Year Eleven girls was much easier than Ryan had previously anticipated. All it had taken was a split-second of vengeful plotting and an uneaten fruit salad. He'd approached the girl nearest Stephen, and said,

'Uh, excuse me?'

She had been so shocked that he was actually addressing her, she'd stumbled and almost fallen over.

'I was wondering if I could ask a favour?'

Ryan added his most ingratiating smile, which might have been a mistake as the girl nodded, composure regained and simultaneously flicked back her long dark hair and posed one leg forward, allowing the movement to hike up her already short skirt.

'Sure thing.'

Ryan could hear the unspoken 'sugar' on the end of that, and prayed they would never become well enough acquainted that she would feel comfortable calling him that.

'Well, my friend left in something of a hurry, and he left this behind,' Ryan waved the fruit salad in the girl's general direction, 'and I would return it myself, but I have to get to a meeting. I was wondering if you would go and find him in the canteen and return it to him? He gets…grumpy…if he doesn't get his five a day.'

Ryan added a slightly dirty grin to the end of this sentence, deliberately allowing the simple statement to be dragged down to the gutter. The girl blushed and smiled flirtatiously.

'Oh no problem, Ryan. We were headed that way anyway.'

Since when had she known his name? Still, she was doing him a favour, and one that was bound to make Tom extremely uncomfortable at that. Ryan gave her his most cocky smile in return and watched in satisfaction as she and her giggling posse turned and scurried in the direction of the canteen.

When he glanced back at Stephen, the boy was once again immersed in his book. Ryan couldn't tell if he was faking it or not, but was slightly put out that he wasn't even going to get a word of thanks for his valiant rescue. He cleared his throat quite deliberately.

Stephen looked up. The look he gave Ryan was simultaneously guilty, embarrassed and grateful. He reached down to his side and rummaged in his back for a second, before throwing something at Ryan. Ryan reached out a hand and caught the object one handed, before identifying it as a container of fruit salad.

They exchanged a grin, before Stephen gave him a little salute and returned his attention to his book. Ryan saluted him back, still holding the fruit salad, before grabbing his bag and heading off to his next lesson.

Ryan's fourth lesson of the day was double PE. It was the only subject he was taking with Tom, and as luck would have it they had both ended up in the same class. When Ryan swung into the changing rooms, five minutes early, he was very surprised to find his best mate all present and correct, but slightly less surprised when a pair of trainers came flying at his head only seconds after Tom registered his presence.

He ducked a split-second before the shoes made contact, and they sailed over his head and out into the corridor, where they clumped a startled looking Year Seven around the head.

Ryan leaned out, extended an arm and retrieved the shoes, muttering a swift apology to the younger boy, who blushed, muttered something so quietly he might as well have been speaking Arabic for all the sense it made and scurried away.

Slamming the changing room door shut, Ryan deposited the trainers on a bench next to him, and grinned unabashed at Tom.

'What was that for?'

Tom glowered furiously.

'You know BLOODY WELL what that was for! You sent that…that…girl to deliver a fruit salad! I don't even like fruit salad!'

Ryan shrugged.

'So next time I'll send her with sandwiches.'

Tom made an alarming growling noise.

'You know, she stayed and sat with us for the rest of lunch?'

Ryan sputtered.

'Seriously? Wow, she's got guts, I'll give her that.'

Tom nodded, suddenly looking considerably less irritated.

'Yes, oh yes. She's got guts alright.'

Ryan eyed this change in attitude suspiciously.

'Yeah?'

Tom nodded again.

'Yeah. She fancies the pants off you mate. Kept on asking questions about you. Questions that weren't all that subtle either.'

Ryan narrowed his eyes.

'Questions like what?'

'Like what your phone number was.'

Shit.

'Thomas Andrew Richard Anthony Jackson. Tell me, for the love of God, tell me you didn't.'

Tom grinned at him.

'Sorry, Ry. You know what a romantic I am. Just can't stand the sight of unrequited love. I just had to do something to help her out.'

A second later, Tom's trainers were flying back across the room, aimed directly at their owner's nose. Sadly Tom's reactions were just as good as Ryan's and he ducked in time. Tom straightened up, and in a move that possessed no finesse whatsoever, he hurled his entire PE kit at Ryan's head.

Ryan shrieked, a sound that was in no way effeminate, and dodged sideways. Unfortunately at this precise moment the door swung open and Stephen Hart was welcomed to his first PE lesson with a faceful of Tom's PE kit. Thankfully, it was at least clean.

Stephen took it remarkably well, considering, Ryan thought. He did stand and blink for a few seconds, looking slightly disorientated, but once he'd recovered, he stepped neatly around the pile of clothing on the floor, gave Ryan a look that seemed to say 'you again' and said,

'For the first time, I fully appreciate the advantages of knocking before entering.'

Tom laughed, completely undeterred as per usual. He bounded up to Stephen and clapped him on the back, saying,

'I'm Tom, Tom Jackson. I think this is the first time we've met.'

Stephen smiled.

'And what a meeting it was. I'm Stephen Hart. I'm new.'

Tom grinned.

'Welcome to hell, mate, welcome to hell.' He waved a hand in Ryan's general direction. 'This is Ryan, my best mate, for my sins.'

Stephen nodded and grinned at Ryan.

'Yes, we've met.'

'Have you?' Tom sounded vaguely indignant. 'How come I never heard about this?'

Ryan shrugged.

'Maybe for the same reason you managed to find a girlfriend and I never heard a word about it?'

Tom scowled.

'Alice isn't my girlfriend. She's just a friend. And I met her on that Physics course I did over the summer. The one that you forbade me from mentioning in your presence, lest you die of boredom, recall?'

Ryan rolled his eyes.

'I never meant you couldn't talk about the people, you moron!'

Stephen cleared his throat.

Tom, remembering someone else was in the room, was instantly smiles again.

'Sorry mate. We bicker like an old married couple.'

'Yeah, I see that.'

'Anyway, what brings you to this class?'

Stephen's look implied he thought Tom was a bit simple.

'I'm doing A-Level PE…'

Tom's return look implied the same.

'Yes, mate, I know. What I meant is, why?'

'Oh. Uh well…'

Thinking Stephen looked a bit hesistant, Ryan jumped in.

'I, for example, am doing PE down to lack of other options.'

Tom grinned.

'And I am doing it because I am a well-known football fanatic.'

Stephen and Ryan shuddered in stereo, and then grinned at each other. Tom gave a dramatic sigh.

'Don't be telling me I'm surrounded by rugby fans.'

Ryan shrugged.

'It's the man's sport, Tom, accept this. Football is just an alternative for those with pitifully low pain thresholds.'

'In other words, if you aren't into SM, stay away.'

'I don't think any rugby players are into SM, Tom. With those shorts, you'd know.'

Tom looked to Stephen for back up. Stephen shrugged and laughed.

'I'm not really big on rugby either. I like field hockey.'

Tom spluttered.

'Field hockey? Isn't that a game for women?'

Stephen shrugged.

'It's an Olympic men's sport.'

'But I bet no-one watches it. Where exactly is the attraction in a watching a bunch of men bash a little ball about with sticks?'

Tom was displaying the level of tact of a rampaging bull as usual, and Ryan thought he should probably rescue Stephen before he was gored on the bull's proverbial horns. He was saved though, by the changing room door swinging open and the rest of the class trooping through it, Douglas 'D-Forz' Forrencer in the lead.

The former entered the room just in time to hear the tail end of their conversation, and he took the chance to clap Tom on the back and say,

'And that particular opinion is equated with your love of cricket how exactly, Thomas?'

Don't get him wrong, Ryan still thought Forrencer was a Neanderthal, but actually, that had been rather good.

Once the class was changed and assembled outside on the netball courts, the teacher announced the sport they would be focusing on this term. Basketball. A groan went up, Ryan and Tom included.

The only people that didn't seem hugely perturbed were Douglas Forrencer and his five cronies. Which was probably because they'd only taken the class in the hope of there being numerous girls in short netball skirts. In fact, there was only one girl in the class, Ellie Whittaker, and she, courtesy of having three enormous hulking brothers in the Upper Sixth, was generally just counted as one of the guys.

The lesson passed in hugely boring exercises, as the teacher ran through all the basic rules of basketball, from where to stand to how to pass to how to shoot a basket. Ryan found himself half listening, half watching Stephen. There was no doubt about it, the boy was good-looking. Ryan rarely noticed attractiveness on anybody, because he wasn't really all that into the shallow relationship crap everyone else did, but there was something aesthetically pleasing about how Stephen was put together.

He was tall and long-limbed, and had the look of someone who hadn't quite grown into their strength yet, but when he moved he possessed an odd grace, which Ryan couldn't help but notice as he moved around the court. His eyes were an irritatingly startling shade of blue and he had lashes that the Year Eleven girls would probably kill for. As if that wasn't enough, he had a well-defined jaw and high cheekbones coupled with fashionably messy dark hair, which was made even more attractive by the fact it almost definitely wasn't deliberate.

If Ryan had been a deep, meaningful sort of person – the sort prone to long periods of agonising – he might perhaps have pondered the reason why he, a straight normal teenaged guy, was actually noticing all this about another boy, but as it was he pushed it to the back of his mind and refocused his attention on the game.

Finally, with forty-five minutes to go, the teacher blew the whistle, and the gaggle of boys and girl trooped over. A plan for some games of four-a-side were outlined and being Sixth Formers, they were given the honour of choosing their own teams.

Ryan gravitated towards Tom automatically, and then without thinking, waved Stephen over. This meant they were missing one member, and Ryan wanted to groan in horror as Douglas was waved over to them by the teacher.

'Alright lads?'

Three strained smiles were offered in response to Douglas' greeting.

Ten minutes later, Ryan grinned at Douglas again, and this time it was considerably less strained. Ryan had previously thought that Douglas was in this class to waste time, and would probably spend his entire time sabotaging the games for everyone else and generally being a bit of a berk.

But it turned out he had judged too soon, because Douglas was actually remarkably good at basketball. For a boy that was normally so big and lumbering, he dodged around people exceedingly well, and had so far scored four out of the seven baskets.

They had won their first game, and now, it seemed, were well on their way to winning the second. Ryan was playing defence, guarding their end of the court, and when the whistle went signalling the end of the second game, the four of them laughed, flushed with victory and exercise and even submitted to the inner dork and exchanged a round of high fives.

The teacher, Mr Roberts, spoke a few words of congratulations and sent them in early to change, excusing them from the tedium of re-organising and taking in the equipment.

The four of them walked to the changing rooms in silence, still flushed with their victory, and oddly Ryan felt completely comfortable with the silence, as though they really were a team. He was used to getting that feeling with Tom, but it was unusual to have it with a boy he'd just met, and he'd never have expected to feel a sense of teamwork with Douglas.

It was nice, though, and Ryan found himself smiling as he changed, and calling out a goodbye that was almost friendly when Douglas departed for home. Stephen was changed a few moments later, and left the room, raising a hand in an almost-salute. Ryan returned the gesture, this time without the fruit salad, and Stephen gave him a little grin of acknowledgement, which made for some reason made Ryan's cheeks heat up.

Once Stephen had gone, Tom let out a loud whistle.

'Well, Ryan, my lad, I'm very much afraid you may have just lost your title of 'Most Sought After Boy In School.'

Ryan rolled his eyes.

'Don't be ridiculous,' he snapped, unsure whether he was denying the fact that he might have lost that title, or the fact that he'd ever had it in the first place.

Tom grinned.

'I'm not being ridiculous,' he said, smirking, 'did you see our Stephen out there? Ellie couldn't keep her eyes off him, and I fancy I saw a couple of the guys looking as well.'

Ryan shrugged, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Was Tom implying he had seen Ryan looking?

'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Tom. Stephen isn't really anything special.'

And of course, fate determined that as Ryan said those words, and said them particularly loudly, as he often did when flustered, Stephen would open the door and poke his head in, asking if he'd left his blazer behind.

Ryan closed his eyes briefly, hoping Stephen hadn't heard, and then, upon seeing Tom wince, knew there was no way he couldn't have heard, and wondered if he could just sink through the floor.

Stephen for his due, just grabbed his blazer and departed, and Ryan really really hoped the flash of hurt had just been wild imaginings on his part.

There was another silence as the door swung shut behind Stephen, and this time is was wholly uncomfortable. That was until Tom broke it by wolf whistling again and saying,

'Bloody hell, Ry. That piece of spectacularly unfortunate timing might just have killed a beautiful friendship before it even got off the ground.'

Ryan's trainers went flying through the air, and this time, Tom's reflexes just weren't quite fast enough.

There's a button underneath this, and pressing it will make a writer very very happy. I was never hugely subtle at hinting :)