For, Elliot

4

It's been a full two weeks.
I haven't called him.
Adam and I have been focusing too much on our game.
We won 1-0 but it was a close call.
My father wasn't thrilled, but he nodded in approval when I passed by him on the bleachers. My mother stayed on her phone.
I know that they will meet me home, just to be back on the television.
We don't drive home together.
The team is somewhat satisfied, and when I get back the locker room is empty.
I get to my locker, sitting down on the bench and untying my cleats until the doors open.

"You in here, Issac?"

I freeze. Elliot's voice carries out through the room, bouncing across the metal lockers and down the tiled halls.
I debate whether or not I should just duck down and wait for him to leave, but the chances of anything happening is unpredictable.

I hear a small chuckle. "Yeah. You're in here." He mutters, and then footsteps start walking down the hall.
"The question is...where are you?"

It's almost like those horror scenes where you try to avoid the murderer, and they play the hide and seek game with you.
It's terrifying.
Just like this.

"Issac? I'm serious. Lets talk."

I slowly start to crawl away from where his voice is, careful not to bump into anything.
The footsteps stop.

"Look I just wanted to congratulate you on your win."

A pause, and then a sigh. "We should play together sometime."

The footsteps come back, and soon enough the door creaks open and he's gone.
I let out a shaky exhale, quickly changing and grabbing my duffle bag.
I slink out the back door and run around to the parking lot where I left my car.
I spot Elliot immediately, walking down the sidewalk casually, the light wind blowing through his brown hair.
I glance at my phone, knowing that I put his contact information in it.
I could call him.
We could play soccer together.
Hang out. Have fun. Be teenagers.
I slowly make my way to my car, softly sliding into the seat and closing the door. I don't start the car, afraid that Elliot might hear it.
Instead I sit and wait.

-----------

I lay in bed now. Two weeks pass. Again. Four weeks since I got his number, and I haven't contacted him.
He offered to coach me. Help me improve. I could probably become a captain of my college team if he taught me how to play the way he does.
And what about that locker moment?
He then asked to just play for fun.
Did he think he scared me by asking to coach?
Did he believe that I thought less of him because I didn't want to be taught?
The message was vague yet clear: I have no expectations for you. I won't judge you if you don't want to hang out, but lets at least try and have fun.
I sigh, silently hating myself.
Why can't I reply?
Maybe it's because I don't want to be friends with a fag. Maybe because he actually does scare me.
Or maybe it's because refuse to let a part of yourself accept some part of him.
Be friends with the queer?
You wouldn't get anything out of it.
You'll become a better athlete.
Well that's true.
I turn on my phone, pressing the call button and letting the electronic ring.
He picks up on the fourth.

"Issac."

"Elliot." I reply.

Silence runs through, an I'm tempted to hang up.

"When do you want to play?" Is all he asks. His voice sounds different though the phone, a bit deeper and more scratchy.

"Tomorrow. After practice."

"Ok."

"Ok."

More silence.

"Cya then."

And then he hangs up before I could say goodbye back.

-----------

"What's he doing here?!" Adam asks as he packs up his equipment.

I turn to see Elliot, his polka dot socks on and all.

I shrug. "Probably eyeing some of our players for a good fuck." I mutter.

Adam laughs, clapping me on the back.
"That would be you."

"You don't know what you're talking about." I snarl.

Adam shrugs, laughing again, then waves goodbye before walking back towards the parking lot.
Elliot doesn't come over to me until the rest of the team has left the parking lot.
I'm slightly grateful for it.

"Ready to play?" He asks twirling a ball in his hands.

"You told me you don't play soccer anymore."

"I don't play for anyone, anymore. This is just for fun." He explains before dropping the ball on he ground.
"Lets play" he grins, and then he's off.

Elliot doesn't take any kind of pity on me, even though I've spent a two hours practice before this. We play short one-on-one scrimmages and even some footwork skills.
By the time Elliot is somewhat out of breath I'm heaving.

"I think that's good for now." Elliot says glancing at me.

He walks off towards the bench, casually putting setting down his soccer ball and tossing me his water bottle.
I glance at it, both of us knowing that I didn't bring a water because our team has a water cooler.

His green eyes study me, "I didn't put my mouth on it." He says quietly.

I pop open the cap, chugging down a good amount of water before wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

"Thanks" I say as I toss it back to him.

I gasp a bit more for breath, and the whole time Elliot doesn't say anything, just goes back to juggling the ball and even stopping to stretch.
I walk slowly to my belongings, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
Elliot notices, quickly standing up and doing the same, following me back to my car.
There's no way I'm going to change in the locker room with him.

"Thanks" I repeat.

Elliot watches me for a moment. Then smiles that smile of his.

"No prob."

Then he walks off, past me, the street, and goes along the sidewalk.

Offer him a ride. My mind says...

I unlock my car and get inside quickly.