I start walking off the field knowing that when the coach notices he’s gonna be mad as fuck. I snicker at the thought of his face turning red. He’s already pissed at me for beating Nathan up. I look back at the group of guys playing and realize I don’t remember seeing him in the locker room. I look ahead again and something catches my eye near the edge of the field.
Two figures standing near the barrier.
For a second, my brain doesn’t quite process what I’m seeing.
Then recognition hits me so suddenly it feels like I’ve been popped in the face by a teammate's shoulder.
Tristan. That lying motherfucker. He sounded bored the last time I spoke to him, telling me he didn’t have any big plans coming up. I believe he used the term “just hanging out.”
My twin brother is standing at the edge of the field, Winter is beside him, tucked comfortably against his side.
My brain struggles to catch up with what my eyes are telling me.
A grin spreads across my face before I can stop it. I take off toward them without thinking, mud still clinging to my cleats and jersey. He’s going to be pissed when I hug him in that crisp white shirt he has on.
“What the fuck, Tristan?” I breathe when I reach them.
He barely has time to answer before we collide.
“Don’t you fucking–” too late, my arms wrap around him, but it only lasts a second.
Because we’re us.
Tristan shoves me back first, and I shove him harder, both of us throwing punches to each other’s shoulders like we’re kids again.
“That’s for calling me that one morning,” Tristan growls, though the smirk tugging at his mouth ruins the threat.
I laugh and swing at his ribs again before glancing over at Winter. She doesn’t look alarmed, but she looks annoyed, and I would venture to guess she probably picked out his pristine outfit that now has mud all over it.
“Is he at least leaving his phone on now?” I ask her.
She shakes her head immediately in the negative.
Figures.
Seeing the two of them together in front of me feels strange in the best possible way. Most of our time together has been reduced to weekly video calls where we play chess and pretend everything is normal.
Seeing them here in person makes the distance feel smaller somehow.
Then Tristan suddenly grabs Winter’s hand and shoves it directly into my face.
A ring glints under the stadium lights.
I stare at it for half a second before the grin spreads across my face again.
“You did good, brother.”
I clap him on the shoulder and glance back at Winter.
“You can definitely do better than my brother,” I tell her lightly, “but since you insist on sticking with him, I’m glad you at least got a nice ring out of it.”
“I’ll fuck you up again in front of your friends,” Tristan mutters, though he’s clearly joking.
“How long are you staying?” I ask because I’ve gotta go find my girl and find out why she didn’t show up tonight. I know she’s safe because Riven is on watch, but something tells me I need to go to her immediately.
“Just stopping by,” Tristan says without hesitation.
Neither one of us are big on small talk for a lot of reasons. We know each other better than most, so neither of us are offended. I can’t help the disappointment that flickers through my chest. I wish they could stay. I wish things were different, but I’m glad I got to see them.
