Sleeping With Ghosts

#9

Kurt:

19th of September

"If I can't keep you two horny little shits from getting distracted, nobody else ever can."

I smacked Dave in the arm with my free hand. If I was certain that Layne had heard that, which he hadn't- he wasn't focusing on Dave with a confused expression- I would have killed him and buried him in my back yard.

Out of the change rooms and into the gym, we milled around and waited for our teacher.
"Are we still playing badminton?"

Dave nodded. To be honest, I really didn't care. I just liked watching Layne move around without his jacket on. I was hit in the face with the shuttle multiple times the past two weeks, because I'd been so preoccupied with trying to keep his cute butt in my line of sight.

Mr. Richardson was old and balding. His food belly jiggled in time with the swing of his beard. He called the roll in a hoarse whisper, then set us loose on the courts with the badminton nets and rackets. As we took residence on the far side of the gym, Chris ambled towards us.

"You guys alright to go doubles? I'd rather not play too close to Courtney doing her best impression of Serena Williams," he threw a thumb over his shoulder where Courtney was stirring up a thundercloud with her scowl.
Chris was the only other guy in school that had wiggled away from Courtney's sticky tar-like grip. How he escaped, we've yet to understand. But it's needless to say, the fact that he wasn't wrapped around her little finger made him an ally. However much this place appeared to be a brick building with glass windows and plastic desks just like any other high school, it was only a facade. This was a war zone.

"Sure," I twirled my racket around, temptation to smack Layne's ass with it was creeping into my brain. I skimmed my gaze over his attire. He wore a worn Led Zeppelin T and another pair of black jeans. These weren't as tight and they were ripped across the thigh on one leg and over the knee on the other.

His racket was wedged between his knees and he was tying his dreadlocks on top of his head.

I smiled, "Good look, Layne." I gave him a thumbs up. Truthfully, I thought he was adorable.

He laughed, securing the hair tie and taking up his racket.

Across the net, Dave wore shorts, but hadn't ditched his Vans. Chris hadn't dressed half-assed. He wore shorts and sneakers, accompanied by a loose singlet. I was nearly surprised he wasn't wearing sweat bands.
I'd slathered on the deodorant this morning. There was just something about smelling bad that really put me off anything. Food, people, cars, shoes, clothes, people, hair dye, did I mention people?

I smelt my armpit, just to make sure. There was a reassuring scent of musk. I nodded to myself, then something hit me in the head.
Layne giggled as he picked up the shuttlecock that had bounced off of me.

"Why didn't you hit it?" I pouted.

"Could ask you the same thing. Besides, I didn't want to hit you in the head," he served.

"Sorry," I said, melting inside. He was worried about my well-being, omigod. Well if he hadn't been yesterday, you probably would've bled to death by now.

The shuttle sailed back over, I jumped for it, but missed. I laughed at myself as I spun around, not even sure where it went.

"Dude, it's in front of you," Layne chuckled.

"Oh yeah." I picked it up, and managed to serve it without either breaking it or the racket, or falling on my ass.

Dave tapped it back and it flew, then plummeted on the far side of the court. I slid to catch it, but it ticked off of the racket and out of the court.

I cringed, picking it up again, "Sorry."

Layne didn't seem terribly upset. In fact he still looked amused. "Where's your head at today?"

"Probably left it in bed," I said, serving.

Layne hit it back over again. For a minute or two, we built up a rhythm, I even participated a minuscule amount. We were down three points, but I really didn't care. Sport never really was my thing. The squeaking of shoes was all the noise in the gym. Beside the inhuman grunting from the far end. I wondered who she was trying to impress, and, if she was hitting as hard as she was yelling, why the shuttle hadn't rocketed through a wall yet. Layne snorted as if he had read my thoughts. I smiled.
The shuttlecock flew overhead, and I slid backwards across the slippery gym floor to catch it. I tripped over my own feet and crashed into Layne behind me, knocking us both to the floor. 

My racket spun away as I landed on an unknown location on Layne's body. He giggled, and his chest wobbled with the cute noise. I was lying on his chest.

My nose was cold, and I wanted nothing else but to smash my face into his warm chest. Instead I heaved myself up, and sat on my feet, laughing like an idiot.

"I'm so sorry," I continued to giggle.

He laughed hysterically on the floor, legs splayed out, and didn't stop for a full minute.  His laugh was infectious, and the effort to stop giggling gave me the hiccups. Which made us laugh even more.

Dave an Chris were probably getting pissed at the two tittering heaps on the floor. My sides were beginning to ache. And the sight of Layne laying spread eagled on the floor, hands covering his face and chest heaving, wasn't helping at all.

"Come on, guys," Dave whined, "I wanna play!"

He glanced at Chris, exchanged a few words and marched over to us. "We're gonna have to split you up, if you can't stop laughing."

"Aww, c'mon, Dave, you sound like a teacher," Layne removed his hands from his face.

Dave gasped. "How dare you!" He hit Layne with the racket.

I chortled, "Yeah, Layne. That was just cruel."

He giggled some more and held up his hands. "Okay, I admit, I deserve to be spanked with the racket."

Dave balled his hands and placed them on his hips. "Seriously, though. Kurt, go over there with Chris. Layne, you're with me. Kurt?"

I had spaced out when Layne mentioned being spanked with a racket. Dave snapped me away from my R-rated thoughts and pushed me on the other side of the net.
I was upset about not being with Layne, but I stayed put. I turned to Chris, who had kept his patience while Dave had acted the parent.

"Sorry, Chris."

He shrugged, "It's fine, really. Sports about having fun, right?"