I'll keep this short and sweet - thank you to all of you who read, favourite, alert this story and those of you have commented up til now. This chapter is a thank you to you all for sticking with it. Hope the pay off is a good sign of what's to come.
WARNING: Slash.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mr Orton.
Enjoy x
Chapter 7
I take my time, lathering up the soap, creating way too much froth and bubble than necessary, as I strain to hear if there's anyone left in the locker room. A door bangs and the voices fade away.
This new routine is practically perfect.
I hang back at the end of training, discuss tactics with coach, maybe have a 20 minute one-on-one session, anything to improve my game. Or rather, I'll do anything to be the last out of the locker room, a decent distance behind the others, giving me a chance to sneak off out of the back entrance of school and climb 10 minutes or so up to the woods.
It was Randy's idea. In the few words we've exchanged over the past month, he suggested that hanging out on school ground wasn't a great idea – too risky. What if one of the team came back unexpectedly? Or the caretaker found us? I'd been thinking the same, but I didn't want to admit how dangerous this situation was getting for me. Maybe he'd guessed. Or maybe he was just watching his own back. Either way, it was a smart move.
So every Tuesday and Thursday, I hang back, wait until the coast is clear and then head into the woods. Very rarely am I the first to arrive. Randy is always waiting in the same small clearing, leaning against the same tree, staring at the same patch of grass.
Today will be no different.
As I come over the crest of the hill, I can't help but smile to myself: I was right, as usual. But as I near, I see that he's already started on the beer that has now become a tradition. Or a necessity, depending how you look at it.
"Hey."
He nods in response and hands over an unopened bottle. I twist the lid and take a gulp. It's warm and tastes flat.
"Sorry, I had to sneak them out the house and they've been sitting in the trunk of my car," he mumbles.
I shrug.
He slumps down the tree trunk and half-squats, half-sits at the base. I take my usual position: leaning against the moss-covered rock a few feet away.
A comfortable silence falls, broken only by Randy lighting a cigarette and the slap of beer against glass whenever either of us take a swig of beer.
Hours can pass like this. We sit in silence, too afraid to say too much. Or is it awkwardness that stops us? Maybe both. I still wonder if he heard me all those weeks ago. We haven't even spoken about that night at The Cavern – yet that seemed to be the beginning. We never decided to start meeting. It just happened. And then Randy suggested here and I nodded. We sit, mumble a few words, drink and smoke until it's dark and we realise that maybe we should go home before the questions start.
Neither of us has bailed. I'm not sure what would happen if one of us didn't show. Would the trust be lost? Or would it depend on who was the no-show? If Randy didn't show, I'd probably shrug it off and still turn up next time. If I did the same to him... I'm not sure. Every time these days roll around, I'm on edge, wondering what or who is going to stop me. Is practice going to be cancelled and I'll have no choice but to leave as normal and won't be able to escape from Bea's clutches? Or will practice go on too long for me to hang back and delay showering and leaving with the others and I'll be forced to go The Cavern with Jay and Rich? But every time has come and gone with no disruptions.
At first, Randy seemed surprised when I showed, as if he thought every meeting might be the last. But slowly, the look of surprise faded to relief and then to indifference; now, he barely acknowledges my arrival, but there is something there, when he meets my eyes as I come up the hill, that tells me that he's pleased I'm there.
He throws me his lighter and I fish out my own crumpled pack of cigarettes. I click the lighter, but nothing happens. I try again and then shake it furiously.
Without a word, Randy closes the gap between us. He leans towards me, holding his cigarette out to me. The end touches mine and I inhale deeply.
His eyes burn into mine, and as usual, it's impossible to look away.
I exhale and blow smoke in his face. He blinks, scowls for a second and then quickly draws all emotion away from his face.
Instead of retreating back to his position at the base of the tree, he pauses for a second and then shuffles to lean against the rock as well, his left arm barely inches away from my right.
The silence continues to wrap itself around us. Leafs rustle in the trees above, Randy coughs, ash crackles, I clear my throat, but still no words are spoken. I finish the cigarette, stub it out on the rock and take another swig of beer.
"What's the deal with you and Bea?"
My mouth goes dry. I glance at Randy out of the corner of my eye. He's staring straight ahead, but as he raises his drink to his lips I can see his hand is shaking slightly.
The question hangs in the air, as I struggle to think of the right words, the right answer. Do I admit the truth? The truth being every second spent with Bea is full of deceit and lies, that my skin crawls when she touches me and that whenever she leaves, upset because I refuse to have sex with her, I feel guilty and disgusted with myself.
But as I already know, the truth is too hard to admit.
I shrug. "We're together I guess."
"You guess?"
"We're together," I say firmly.
"Right."
Something in that one word tells me he doesn't believe me.
"Why do you ask?"
Now it's his turn to shrug. "I just wondered."
He wondered? Are the cracks that have been brewing behind closed doors over the past few weeks starting to show? But I know that Bea's smile has started to become a little too fixed when she looks at me, her mouth a little colder, her insistence to always hold hands or to have my arm wrapped around her shoulder has waned and her friends have been shooting me death-like looks. So maybe it's no wonder that Randy, the ultimate observer, has noticed.
"Thanks for your concern, but I don't think it's really any of your business," I mutter, getting to my feet.
He doesn't say anything as I walk away.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, as I wait for the light to turn green. I lift one hand and watch in the street-light as it trembles. I shake it angrily and return to drumming to an imaginary beat.
I have to find him.
As I walked away earlier, I had an overwhelming urge to turn back and tell him the truth. But I was too angry. I was angry that he asked. I was angry with myself for lying. Above all, I was scared. He was so close – it was like he already knew what the real answer was. And my lie just proved it. So why would he follow me? He'd got what he wanted.
Or...
Maybe he has no idea. Maybe he was digging for a clue. Maybe he took my answer at face-value. So why would he follow me – he got what he thought was the truth. End of story.
As much as I'm scared, I know I have to tell him. I don't have to tell him the reasons. I just have to tell someone, anyone, that what they see isn't real. I'm fed up of the lies. I lie to myself, to Bea, to my mom, Jay, Rich, the entire school. And as silent as Randy can be and how his tendency to remain emotionless un-nerves me at times, I think in a way he is the best person to tell. There won't be a raised eyebrow, a shocked look, an open mouth and a stream of abuse. There will be silence and a curt nod.
That's all I need.
The light turns green and I hit the gas. I have to find him quick. Before I bottle it. The only place I think of is The Cavern. The risk of being caught is high and the chances of him actually being there are pretty damn slim, but the alternative is waiting till Thursday. And by then, it might be too late.
I swing into the parking lot, slow and do a long sweep of the place. I don't dare park in my usual spot – no need to draw attention to myself. So I slot in between two cars at the far end of the back row. I kill the engine and sit in darkness for a moment. The parking lot is quiet, but I can hear the faint thump of music coming from the bar. My heart is going at a similar pace.
Something catches my eye. Movement by the alleyway. The light at the end of it is dim, but I swear there is someone there.
My hands start to shake once more as I get out of the car and make my way towards the alleyway.
Randy is leaning against the wall, feet scuffing the floor. He glances up. Did he just smile, or was it just my imagination?
I stand awkwardly opposite him.
"Hey."
"Hey," he replies.
I take a deep breath. "So when I said that me and... Well when I said we're y'know... That's not really... It's not the truth."
Randy doesn't say anything. In the dim light his eyes look like black holes, half his face cast in shadow. But I can feel him watching me intensely.
"Everyone thinks we're the perfect couple. Even her. But we're not... She... She's erm..." my mouth goes dry. To say it out loud, means that it's real. "She's a cover."
Randy still doesn't say anything.
"Fuck," I mutter. "Look, just forget it. We... We didn't have this conversation right? And... well... See you around."
I turn to go. Seriously, what was I thinking? That he would jump for fucking joy? That he'd congratulate me like we're on the football pitch and I just scored the winning point? No. Because if I were him, I would be fucking shocked too. I would be freaked out. I would think what the hell is this guy doing – fucking the hottest girl in school, but all the while thinking of someone else. And not just someone else, a fucking guy. Jesus Christ. What the hell have I just done?
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Randy move.
But what I don't expect is his hand to curl around my wrist. To grip it tightly, firmly. I desperately try to pull myself free, but he holds on, pulling me back, further down the alleyway, pushing me against the wall, moving closer, barely an inch between us.
And what I definitely don't expect is his mouth on mine.
