Hello everyone! I know, I abandoned you again. But I have proper excuses this time. I've been away for the last month. And I get my A Level results tomorrow and I'm very nervous! Check out luspeak. wordpress. com if you want to know how I did. In other news, I'm now published! I entered the Wicked Young Writers' Award 2014 and was a finalist, so am in the anthology. I got to meet Michael Morpurgo and the UK cast of Wicked. I didn't win, but it means so much just to have my name in print above a wacky piece of work which doesn't make any sense. Anyway, on with this.
This snapshot was inspired by Wimbledon, and is the second part of the Ball Boy series. If you haven't read that one, go back and do it now. I hope you enjoy it :)
Kurt brushed his bangs from his face and replaced his cap. Looking back at the court, he squinted his eyes, focusing on the ball. It left the racquet at the other end and bounced over the net. He brought his own racquet back and returned it.
Kurt had been learning to play tennis. Not just casually hitting a ball over a net to land between some lines. Proper tactics. And he had a really good teacher.
"Wow! Are you sure you've never played before this week?"
Kurt grinned, the sun illuminating his face, making him look even more angelic and young. "Never." He had, of course. His dad had bought him trainers and a racquet and short white shorts the year he turned twelve. "If you're not going to play football or soccer," he'd said, "you're going to try tennis. No more of this dancing nonsense." He'd tried two lessons, then figured out a way of skiving off to gaze in shop windows at clothes not only out of his price range but also far too big for him. His dad hadn't been too pleased when he'd found out, mind you. Kurt smiled again. Just what would Burt think if he knew Kurt was taking tennis lessons from Blaine Anderson? It might bring on another heart attack!
As Kurt once again hit the ball into the corner of the court and Blaine failed to return it, the tennis player stopped and put his hands on his hips. "Break?" he asked, already walking over to the bench by the side of the court and trying to get his breath back. Kurt met him just as he uncapped a bottle of water.
Blaine took a swig, then offered the bottle to Kurt who accepted it with a blush. "You're playing really well," he said. "You'll be entering Wimbledon next year and wiping out all of your competition."
Kurt handed the bottle back with a flattered smile. "I think I'll stay courtside, for now." He decided to change the subject. "When's your next match?"
After winning that first match that Kurt had seen play, Blaine had gone on to thrash his later competition. Blaine had caught Kurt's arm as he was about to leave the court a week ago and asked him if he fancied taking some tennis lessons. They'd found one of the outer courts, once Blaine had had a quick shower, and played for a couple of hours. Now, a week after that first lesson, Kurt knew full well that his new friend had a match the next day, and that he should probably practise for it.
"Tomorrow morning?" Blaine spoke with a question in his voice, as if he was just planning on rocking up when he was needed. "Are you going to be on court?"
Kurt nodded, his gaze dropping to his borrowed racquet as he fiddled with it. "Shouldn't you be with your trainer? Isn't it your quarter final?"
Blaine shook his head. "I mean, yeah, it's my quarter, but practising with you is good enough. It's better than good. It's wonderful. Especially if you're going to be there tomorrow. You're my lucky talisman."
"I thought I made you mess up the first time you saw me?" Kurt bit his lip. There was a question he needed to ask. "Blaine? What are we?"
Blaine's hand, which had been reaching into his kit bag for a banana, suddenly froze. "What do you mean?"
Kurt sighed, then sat down on the bench. "You and me. You blanched when you first saw me. You made an effort to ask for my name. We play tennis together. Was I supposed to think that was nothing?"
Slowly, Blaine withdrew his hand from his bag. He said nothing.
"I'm gay, Blaine." Kurt screwed his eyes shut so he didn't have to look at the tennis star. "I thought that was fairly obvious but clearly it just makes you uncomfortable. Maybe I should just leave."
Suddenly, Kurt felt a warmth in his hands. He opened his eyes to see Blaine's hand in his. Slowly, he turned his head to see Blaine's eyes, wide and scared, looking back at him.
"I don't want to screw this up," was the first thing that Blaine said, and Kurt sat back in surprise. "I like you. A lot. When I first saw you, it was very... unexpected. But I knew I couldn't let you leave the court thinking I was some sort of freak. So, I asked your name. And then I invited you to play with me because I wanted to get to know you better." He shuffled on the bench, and that's when Kurt realised he was no longer standing opposite him but sitting beside him. "This tournament's really big for me. And I've already got the press crawling all over me. They don't even know I'm gay! I shouldn't drag you into that. I won't."
"But, you like me?" Kurt asked.
"But, I like you," Blaine confirmed. "And maybe, after this is over, I could take you out properly."
Kurt nodded slowly, letting this information sink in. Blaine was gay. Blaine liked him. Blaine wanted to date him. He stood up and went to stand at one of the base lines. "Come on, then. If I'm going to date a three-time Wimbledon champion, he needs to get some practise in before his quarter final match."