Boys Will Be Boys (discontinued)

Chapter Seventeen

<Kieran's POV>

It was strange how empty the court sounded when I practiced alone. The basketball itself was slightly deflated, a fact I'd only noticed after pulling it out of my duffel, and the uneven concrete of the pavement did little to help its bounce. I settled for another drill, one which didn't involve the fucking deflated ball. Instead, I focused on running sprints up the length of the court, missing the satisfying squeal my shoes would make on my school's indoor floor. The sound of rubber shredding against the paving was an okay-enough substitute.

Can't believe I brought a fucking deflated ball to practice with.

I was fuming. A burst of adrenaline would push me through the sprints, my motivation laying deflated on the sideline. I started adding in little exercises here and there: burpees at half-court, grapevine on the return, backpedal at the key, stuff like that. The little variations made me ache all over, only for the ache to progress into a steady throb when I noted that my entire morning was spent and the sun was high in the sky.

Stretching out my limbs out tiredly, I weakly shoved the good-for-nothing ball back into my duffle and gulped down half the contents of my water bottle. In middle school, I used to only drink Gatorade before and after practices. Now I knew he needed to distill it and shit, so my water bottle had more of a pink tint to it rather than red.

I put my hands atop my head, fingers clutching at the stray sweaty strands of hair dropping into my face. I tried to stop my self from hunching over like most people would, vividly remembering the coach screaming about how we needed to 'open up our lungs'. The sun was hot against my neck, and I tried to muster the strength to wipe down my face with my towel.

I barely made it past my jaw before I collapsed into a pile of limbs in the shade of the hoop. I leaned my head against the fence surrounding the court, watching amusedly as heat waves rolled up from the pavement into the air.

Stupid me. Conditioning during a heat wave. Forgetting about my fucking basketball needing air to be a fucking ball.

I yawned, not really thinking through the consequences of a nap in the heat. It was so warm, and I was so numb. I put my duffle on my lap, pulling the towel over my face to block out what ever rays slipped by the hoop's netting.

"Kieran?" I heard a shout.

I groggily rubbed at my eyes, seeing a figure growing closer and closer. The sun was bright and I squinted as they offered a hand to pull me up. They pulled too hard and I felt myself falling forward before a set of hands steadied me.

"Damn it, Marco. You nearly pulled his arm off"

I blinked my eyes rapidly, the feeling of almost-falling shocking me out of stupor. I shakily pulled myself out of the person's strong grasp, looking up to see the one and only: Lukas-fucking-Schmitt. I could feel my face flush heavily, mind almost instantly flashing back to his Instagram photo. I studied his face in the sunlight as he scolded Marco, not getting that weird feeling I had when I'd seen the photo.

Huh. Maybe he's not that cute.

I let out a sigh of relief. All those weird feelings from the night before were definitely the result of stress. I needed to get laid. All this gayness in the air was affecting me.

"Fuck off, Schmitt. Damn. His arm is still there, ain't it?"

Marco was rolling his eyes and laughing, Lukas' stern look finally slipping into a smile. He turned to me and --

Fuck.

"Yo Kieran, good thing we saw you. We're headed to DJ's, you in?" Marco jumped into my line of vision and I shook my head, thankful for the distraction.