The Sixth American Friend

Granger's fallen off the face of the earth. There's been no calls or texts from him (Kai hasn't reached out yet) and he's absent on Monday. There's no sign of him anywhere on campus or around it. It's been three days since the brawl and the kiss.

Clearly Kai had been demented when he did it. Possessed by something. He was rattled by Granger's sudden appearance at the care home and his consciousness was likely trying to find a way to cope with the fact that someone other than his friends and family learned about his mother's condition. Someone who wasn't even on good terms with him. More of an enemy than a friend. She was at risk.

She's still at risk.

And if Granger blabbed to someone about the kiss, or tried to use it against Kai in some form, Kai would spin the story around and pin it on him. Say it was Granger who had come onto him and Kai had pushed him away in disgust. And between the two of them, the campus would only ever believe Kai, instead of trusting the words of a guy who can't keep his girlfriends.

Kai's thinking about the damage control he would have to do if Granger exposes him, almost completely forgetting the fact that he'd kissed him back. He pauses when he recalls that part.

If Granger was going to blab about the kiss in the first place he would have pushed him away. There was no need to reciprocate. Kai had given him plenty of blackmail material in the span of just 3 seconds. May be Tyson kissed him back with the intention of stealing his heart. Make him fall in love. And then get his revenge on him by breaking his heart.

It's a crazy idea but he wouldn't put it past Tyson to come up with shit like that. It may very well be the reason he did it.

He considers talking to him about it, but that would be an extremely awkward conversation. It would be best to wait and observe. Especially since Granger hasn't done anything yet. He's not even on campus. And if there's the slightest chance that he actually meant the kiss, then Kai needs to pretend it never happened. Bury the incident. And another reason why Kai doesn't want to talk to Tyson about it is because no matter how much he hates to admit it he still finds Granger attractive and the awkwardness of that conversation might just kill him. So waiting and observing would definitely be the best course of action.

Last Friday

Tyson looks around the library as soon as the thought of the tape returns to the front of his mind. His eyes scan the length of the floors around him and finds nothing.

It's gone.

Taken from his hands.

Crap

"Tyson, what happened?" Hilary rushes up to him when she sees him walking across the campus grounds.

"What?" he asks, confused. He's sure there's no telling signs on him of his…kiss (so bizzarre) with Kai earlier.

"You're bleeding!" she says, eyes wide with concern.

"I'm not bleeding," he says, looking at her with a baffled expression.

Hilary swipes at his forehead, her fingers come away red. Oh.

He touches the same spot she had and looks at the blood on his hand. "That's not mine," he says, realising who it belongs to. Remembering the gash he'd left on his forehead.

Her concern changes into mild horror. "Whose is it then?"

"Kai's" replies Tyson, deciding that there's no harm in telling her about that.

Her eyes widen comically. "Again? Tyson, do you have a death wish?"

He rolls his eyes. "He deserved it. And what's he going to do anyway?" He can't do worse than what he's already done. Tyson's living in hell.

Hilary huffs, exasperated with him as she lends him her handkerchief to wipe the blood on his face. "You need to more careful."

The guys mill about the locker room, changing into their training gears. "Where's Tala?" asks Tyson, looking around and noticing that a certain red head is missing.

"Coach said he's sick," says Lee, tying the laces of his boots. "He caught a stomach flu apparently. Something he ate on Friday."

Tyson's eyebrows shoot up involuntarily at that piece of information. "He's sick?" he asks, dubiously, finding the news hard to believe because Tala almost never gets sick.

Lee shrugs. "He's at home."

He never got on the bus. That's why Tyson didn't see him when they left campus last night.

He has a sneaking suspicion that Tala's not actually sick and he's just sitting out the invitational because he's still cross with Carr about letting Tyson participate in all the events again. But the Date Challenger is not a regular invitational. Toho has a long standing rivalry with them. It's crazy for Tala to think that Carr would make their best sprinter sit out such an important meet.

It's crazy that Tala pulled out of such an important meet. He must be more vexed than Tyson had thought if he's purposefully sabotaging the team's chances to win by feigning sickness, especially since Tala is their second best athlete on the track and he plays a vital role in clinching them an overall victory.

Man. This invitational is going to be brutal without him.

Tyson's cooling off on the side, after clearing the men's 100m and 200m preliminaries at the top of the standings. There's a U-19 800m race currently on near him and he's watching a freshman he's friendly with compete in it while gulping down a bottle of water.

The boy finishes 4th and Tyson gives a little hoot of encouragement. "Nicely done, Hinata!" he shouts at him, clapping with the bottle in hand. Hinata spots him and flashes him a wide grateful smile, before doubling over in exhaustion.

Tyson turns to the nearest bench to put the bottle down. Another athlete arrives there at the same time, to retrieve something from a bag. He looks at Tyson, recognizes him and then gives him a smile.

"Hi" he greets in a deep voice.

"Hey" Tyson returns his smile and racks his brain for a name. He looks like a foreigner, with deep blue eyes and sandy blonde-hair, well-toned arms exposed by the jersey he's wearing. He fails to find one.

"You're Tyson Granger, right?"

"Yeah. And I'm sorry but I can't seem to remember your name for some reason."

"That might be because you've never met me before," he says, flashing him a bigger smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks this time. "I transferred to Date at the start of the year."

"Oh, you're new? Are you a sophomore too?"

"I am. Finance."

"Ah" Tyson says in a playfully judging tone. "Business."

The guy's grin grows wider, the small joke amusing him. "You have..uh.. quite the reputation," he says. "I heard about you almost the same day I joined the track team here."

"Really?" Tyson raises his eyebrows and looks around the field at the Date coaches and athletes. "They talk about me?"

He chuckles. "Seeing as you're our rivals' best athlete I'd say it's expected. They're supposed to talk about you."

"And what did they say?" he asks with a teasing tone but genuinely curious.

He pauses. Sends a look over Tyson's shoulder at whom he assumes is his coach and meets his eyes again. "Let's just say they summed you up pretty well."

Tyson snorts and moves to sit on the bench. The guys joins. A starting pistol goes off nearby as the women's 200m preliminaries begin. He'll have to run again after two more races.

"Where are you from?"

"America"

"Oh" is all Tyson says but he fails to mask the disappointment he feels.

The dude laughs out loud. "What? Do you have something against Americans?"

He doesn't reply right away, thinking about how best to answer a question like that without offending him too much. "Let's just say that the only Americans I like are my friends."

He makes an amused sound. "You meet a lot of Americans?"

"I have, unfortunately. Thanks to my dad."

"Well, I'm from Houston, but I'm not sure if that makes a lot of difference to you."

Tyson shakes his head. "It doesn't. What's your name anyway?" His mind instantly supplies him with American names he's heard over the years and he lists them off, only because each one makes the guy laugh in that deep, velvety way of his. "Kyle? Terrence? Mark? Steve?"

"No" He stops laughing and gathers himself enough to say, looking into his eyes with glimmering blues, "Trent".

"Trent!" Of course. Although the Trents in his head don't look as attractive as this one.

"I don't know why you're judging," says Trent, his voice lightened by the laugh in it. "You're named Tyson Granger."

"Only because of my dad. I'll have you know that I have a Japanese name too."

"Yeah? What's that?" He looks at him, serious.

"I don't know you enough for that yet," Tyson says and stands up. "Well, Trent, it was nice meeting you. May be you will be my sixth American friend."

Trent's eyes widen dramatically. "You have five American friends?" he asks in disbelief. "You sure you don't like us?"

"It wasn't planned," he says, and strides away with a middle finger over his shoulder.

The invitational turns out to be just as brutal and trying as Tyson had predicted. They seize the overall victory by the skin of their teeth, with some of their freshman having to put out their best performances till date to make up for Tala's absence.

He's waiting in the hallway with his arms folded across his chest as Tyson strides up to him, his heart fluttering in his throat.

"Where have you been?" asks Kai, eyes as dark and merciless as ever.

"I was at Date Tech. For an invitational."

"And you didn't think to inform me of that?" He's wearing a dark green almost obsidian shirt with its sleeves rolled up to just above his elbows. Tattoos snake across his exposed forearms and Tyson has a hard time focusing on what he's saying instead of how he looks.

"I texted you about it literally a week ago," he says.

"A week ago" states Kai, looking at him flatly.

"What, you wanted me to text you right before I got on the bus? It's not my fault you forgot."

"Or Friday morning, but I understand that you were too busy going behind my back," he says, smile cruel.

Tyson flushes as Kai mentions Friday, wondering if he'll bring up the kiss but he doesn't go on and there's nothing in his eyes to allude that he even remembers the kiss. He's pretending it never happened. Tyson doesn't mind that. In fact, he actually prefers it but it's…unsettling the way there's not even a hint of awkwardness or flustering. It's hard to believe that this man even kissed him a few days ago.

"I…" he starts and sighs. He's not going to apologize. He refuses to. He glimpses the cut on the side of Kai's forehead, behind a few locks of inky black hair. A tiny white strip of bandaid covers it. It's satisfying to look at. A reminder that he'd given him a good ass kicking. "Why is it important anyway? Did you miss me or something?"

Kai's stare is flat as he considers him silently. "As I would an errand boy," he says, words slipping smoothly past his sensual lips. The lips he'd kissed. "Get me a coffee."

He's such a dick.

Tyson glares at him and then rolls his eyes.

"Not from the cheap café down the street. I want one from a real restaurant." He hands him his credit card and starts walking past him but then stops by his side to say, "Don't be long."

He hates his ass.