Robin doesn't want to be a tutor. Tyler doesn't want to be tutored. So why are their tutoring sessions always running late?
***
After an illness-stricken childhood, Robin Erie struggles to free himself from his mother's suffocating embrace. Her plan...
"I can't..." Tyler muttered while trying to crutch-push the ball toward Robin.
"Try it." The command was gentle but firm. "It might... help."
Another longing look at the ball. A sigh. Then a crutch rolled the ball backward. Tyler placed the ball in front of himself and with an anxious expression, he tested to put his weight on the crutches while at the same time swinging his right foot in the air.
"Maybe like this..." he mumbled, looking to Robin for assurance.
Robin nodded encouragingly. "I think that'll work," he said.
With a tense sigh, Tyler moved closer to the ball. Supported by the crutches, he moved his foot toward the ball in a movement that seemed ingrained in his muscles. It was obvious that he'd kicked a ball before. With impressive speed, the ball flew like a projectile toward the fence. It hit the boards with a loud bang, making splinters and dust fall to the ground, and then bounced back to where it came from.
Once again, Tyler stopped the ball with his crutch. He looked up at Robin with a triumphant smile across his pretty face. "I guess I still got it," he surmised.
He kicked the ball toward the fence again and it bounced back toward Robin. Soon they took turns kicking the ball. The loud bangs, ferocious exercise, and delightful company made Robin forget all about what had happened earlier that day. It was overshadowed by a feeling of pure joy and boundless freedom.
"Try to take it from me!" Tyler bellowed and dribbled the ball between his foot and his crutches. It seemed his confidence as a sportsman had returned to him. Even if he had to do things a bit differently than before. He made soccer with crutches an artform.
Robin tried, and inevitably failed, to take the ball from the crutch-soccer champion. Smoothly, Tyler moved the ball slightly to the left, only to swiftly move it to the right instead which completely stumped Robin.
He tried again, careful not to accidentally trip or push Tyler, and he failed again. But Robin was happy to fail, as he was rewarded with a joyous smile from beneath blonde curls for his effort.
"I've never played soccer before," Robin protested when the ball once again was swooped out of his grasp. "You've got the upper hand."
"You have two legs," Tyler countered. There was no bitterness in his voice. He was just stating a fact. "It feels like that should give you an advantage, Robby."
He quickly disproved that statement by using Robin's legs as a tunnel and kicking the ball between them. "Score!" he yelled playfully.
Robin wasn't annoyed at being made look foolish. He was happy. Because Tyler seemed happy. And they were together. Engaged in a game that perhaps seemed childish but under the surface was anything but. Perhaps it wasn't a game at all.
The momentum of the tunnel move caused Tyler to crash into Robin. Chests pressed together and faces lingered close. That's when the game ended.
The ball rolled away but neither of them chased it. Instead, they stayed in the huddle. A scent of salty sweat mixed with sweet vanilla hit Robin's nose. Intoxicating and alluring.
He lifted his gaze and met a pair of green eyes filled with mischief, uncertainty, and something else. Maybe it was desire. Robin had never seen that look before.
Those eyes seemed to offer everything he'd ever longed for. It was right there, only an inch away. Understanding. Love. Freedom.
He wanted it. He wanted it now. He didn't care about anything else.
His head tilted to the side. His heels lifted from the ground. His lips parted ever so slightly.
Intuitive actions. Like he knew what to do even though he'd never done it before.
Slowly, so slowly, their lips moved closer and closer. Like magnets drawn to each other by an inescapable force. To not kiss wasn't an option anymore.
The first touch was gentle and brisk. It left them wanting more.
The second touch was deeper and longer. A convulsing movement back and forth, giving and taking equally.
A small break to breathe. The air around them appeared to stand still, charged with tension that radiated from their bodies.
The third touch was confident and passionate. Anxiety and fear flew away as it became clear that their feelings were mutual.
The kiss was all-consuming. It took over Robin's body and mind. Tingles spread throughout his limbs and congregated at a spot below his belt.
The kiss was revelatory. It washed away all doubt and pain. At that moment, Robin felt like completely himself. He wasn't pretending to be someone else.
The kiss was soft like marshmallows and just as sweet. It was addicting and exhilarating, just like sugary treats. And just like the addictive flavor of such fluffy delights, it melted away too soon.
A sudden burst of bitterness welled up in Robin's throat and with the foul taste came a flurry of conflicting emotions. Overwhelmed, he parted his lips from Tyler's and stumbled backward. He fell on the gravel field.
Somehow, Robin had figured out how to flirt. But now he didn't know what to do next. He didn't know if he could handle what was to come. It was all just too much.
"I can't," he stuttered. "Not now..."
The hurt expression in Tyler's eyes stabbed his heart. Robin wanted to get up and taste the soft and sweet marshmallows again. But a restricting feeling across his chest held him back, it felt like iron straps that tightened and kept him from breathing.
"Sorry," Tyler mumbled, green eyes of freedom averted. "I shouldn't have. I got carried away."
"It's alright," Robin replied, although his body was about to break apart from the conflicting urges. He wanted to move closer, and he wanted to run away. But instead, he got up, brushed off his pants, and looked at his watch. "It's late... We should get going. I'll drive you home."
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