“He’ll be too busy making heart eyes at his boyfriend,” Lucas teases.
“I will not.” I’ll be focused when it counts. I always am.
Stretches are next and then drills. It doesn’t take me long to get into the zone where nothing matters but training.
We start with a game, standing in a circle and throw the ball from player to player in a clockwise direction. The receiver has to clap before catching the ball. If we forget, we’re on the ground doing five press-ups. It’s simple, fun, and improves our reflexes.
Next, we get into two lines facing each other. One player runs between the lines, catching the ball from the left before passing it to the right. We’re only allowed to pass backwards. When the runner gets to the end, they join a line, and the next player takes their turn. An onlooker would probably find the drill boring, but I’m so focused on passing and catching that time slips by without me realising it.
Dark clouds are gathering in the sky as I switch to practising kicking. My car keys are in a locker. I should have left them with Haru so he could sit in the car if he wanted to. I’ll remember to do that next time he comes to watch. Assuming he hasn’t been put off for life due to acute boredom.
We’re starting our cool-down walk when it starts to rain. It’s a light shower at first, not heavy enough to soak through my clothes. The water is pleasantly cool against my bare skin. I tilt my face towards the sky as I walk, letting fine droplets splash onto my forehead and cheeks. Coach waves us to the centre of the pitch, where we do static stretches to cool our muscles down. Thunder rumbles overhead, and then the floodgates open. The droplets become big, heavy, and relentless. Within seconds, I’m soaked to the bone.
“That’s enough,” Coach yells above the thunder of the rain. “Make sure you drink plenty and have a high-carb meal tonight.” He waves towards the changing block. “Go.”
I look around for Haru. He’s taken shelter beneath the eaves of the changing block. Not that it’s stopping him from getting wet. I jog over to him. His hair is wet. Water drips along the coarse, dark strands and runs down his neck beneath the collar of his jacket and T-shirt. He’s hugging himself.
“Come inside while I get changed.”
“Your teammates won’t mind?”
“I don’t care. You’ll get soaked standing out here.”
“I’m already soaked. I don’t think I can get wetter.”
“No, but you can get colder.”
“True.”
Haru makes himself small in a corner of the changing room while the team gets changed. We’re used to being in various states of undress in front of each other, so no one seems fussed that there’s an extra man in the room. I feel guilty as I strip out of my wet kit and get into my dry work clothes.
I take my jumper to Haru. “It’s grubby and smelly from work, but it’s dry.”
He takes his jacket and T-shirt off, peeling them away from his skin, and puts the jumper on. It swamps him.
“Better?”
“Yes, thanks.”
I gather my things, and then we peek outside. The rain isn’t showing any signs of stopping, so hand in hand, we dash to the car and get inside.
“Your jumper’s wet.” Haru sneezes.
I turn the engine on and put the heating on full blast. “We’ll be home some. Then we can have a warm shower, and I’ll give you something dry to put on.”
Haru laughs. “Again.”
I pull out of the car park. “I hope you weren’t too bored.”
“No, it was fun.”
I glance at him. Is he being polite? His eyes are shining, so perhaps not.
“It would be more fun to watch a game. I’ll have to come to Leeds to watch you play.” Haru’s voice drops to a whisper by the end of the sentence. He stares out the window.
“I’d like that,” I say.
He replies with a barely there smile. “Me too.”
