At the end of practice, I don’t even dare to look at him anymore. My imagination is running wild and I’m seriously afraid of doing something tremendously stupid. Or saying something stupid, or both. But guess what, today seems to be my lucky day, because David leaves the gym right behind me. Great.
“Did you come by bike?”
Oh my God, I have to answer. I can talk anytime, anywhere, that’s not the issue, but I can’t always guarantee what I’m going to say is eloquent. Massive filter failure combined with uncontrolled impulsiveness – not cool. “Uh, no, my father always picks me up on Tuesdays. Tomorrow I’ll be here by bike.”
“Cool. See you then.” We high-five goodbye and I walk as fast as I can to the parking lot and jump into the passenger seat.
“Hey! How was practice?” Paps asks, but he’s still looking at David. “Did you get to know your teammates a little?”
“That’s David. He’s our captain.”
“He looks nice.”
“He’s into you.” Completely in sync and at record speed, Paps and I turn around to the boy in the back seat.
“What the... What did you say?”
My little brother looks at me with utter boredom. “Seriously. Are you blind? It’s obvious.”
“You’re ten! How would you know?”
“How come you don’t see it? You’re sixteen for God’ssake!” I turn back. You have to accept when you’ve lost in a war of words with Jannis. But if he’s right—and Jannis can read people like no one else—would that mean... Something I very much hope is true?
Chapter 5
David
17 years
I run across the court, two more steps, then I turn around catching the ball Louis passes to me from our half. Three more steps. Left, right, left, jump. My arm pulls back, and the ball leaves my palm at top speed as I fly toward the goal.
The referee blows his whistle. 19-7, we’re leading. I jog back to my position in defense, high-five my teammates on the way, and then he’s standing there. Fire burning in his eyes. He’s pumped, full of adrenaline, completely focused on the game, and yet every time we look at each other, time stands still for a second.
Mypalms slap into his and for a very brief moment we both grab hold. So fleeting that no spectator or teammate should ever notice.
We win big time. No one expected anything else, not even our opponents. Since Louis joined us, we’ve been undefeated. I look around for him and find him with a bottle at his mouth by the coach’s bench.
“Great game!” With these words, I give him a hearty pat on the shoulder—and Louis tips over. Oh shit, liquid shoots out of his mouth and nose like a fountain, and I catch his hip, pulling him toward me, before he kisses the floor. Kissing me would be … holy fuck, stop. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
Louis’s back is pressing against my chest, and he is so close that his sweat-drenched curls tickle my neck. It should be disgusting, but it isn’t. In fact, I feel the urge to wrap my arms around him and kiss that little spot behind his ear. Louis takes a deep breath; his chest rises and his back presses back against my chest. Just for a moment, but it’s enough to make my cock hard.
Then he shakes off my arms and turns around. “Good game.” And without looking back he runs ahead of me to the locker rooms.
Oh, shit. Only now do I realize the magnitude of my problem. Showers. I have to shower which is extremely uncool to do with a boner in my pants and my teammates naked around me.
My plan A, to sit it out and wait until my cock calms down again, fails the moment Louis strides past me toward the showers, buck naked. How can someone so small have such a big dick? How? Mine is only slightly bigger – when I’m hard.
Yes, I’ve had the opportunity to see him naked before, butI deliberately didn’t look. That’s what you do when you shower with your teammates. But I couldn’t help it this time, and now I have this image in my head, and my gaze is magnetically drawn to it.
Fuck! I can’t stare at a teammate in the shower, damn it.
I’ll wait. That’s the new plan. I’ll wait until Louis is done, then I’ll take my shower. Until then, I’ll think about women with big boobs. They do nothing for me. After two minutes, I give up and take out my phone, because my imagination refuses to cooperate. Some porn pics should do the job to replace the image of Louis’s cock, which seems to be burned into my retina.
Maybe it would’ve worked if I hadn’t lost interest at some point and stared at the opposite bench instead. Louis’s bench. How horny do you have to be to get hard at the sight of a piece of furniture?
And as if my situation wasn’t bad enough, Louis comes around the corner and dries himself off right in front of me. His towel glides over his muscular shoulders, rubbing along his powerful thighs. With a quick movement, he reaches into his crotch and dries himself off there too. Phew, what I would give for that to be my hand. What would I do?
Oh God, I have no idea, probably nothing, because I’m a coward. I might touch him briefly, maybe even ...? Ah, no, probably not. But of course, just the thought does nothing to fix my situation.
