Saving Scott

5: Da Lay-deeees

"I'm gonna be Superman," Matt said, and posed a few times with his biceps out. I rolled my eyes and threw the football at his stomach. He laughed and doubled over as he grabbed onto it.

"What the hell?" I asked.

"Listen," Matt said, straightening up and suddenly serious as he threw the ball my way again. "it will attract da lay-deeees."

I snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"No," Matt argued, "I've got goals."

"You've got a head injury is what you've got," I said, tossing the ball back his way.

"A head injury is what this bicep is going to give you," Matt shot back, and threw the ball. Too hard. Way too hard.

I snapped my head around and winced as I saw it was headed for the only person I could pick out in a crowd: Lakyn James, somehow managing to look like a gothic hospital tragedy even in the middle of summer. He was sitting on top of a picnic table in perfect range. "Yo! Lakyn! Watch out!"

He looked up and I just knew the football was gonna hit that sorry bastard right in the face. But somehow, it didn't...

"Oh shit!" Matt said, suddenly next to me, his voice laced with guilt. "Did he seriously catch that?"

I glanced at him and shrugged, as shocked as he was but unable to come up with anything to say, then held my hands up for Lakyn to toss the ball back to me.

He didn't. He sat the ball down next to him and fixed a cold, irritated glare on me. I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Asshole," Matt said.

He was right. "Hang on, I'll get it back."

I jogged Lakyn's way while he leaned back on his palms. It stretched his body out, the rash guard he was wearing flattening against his stomach. His head tilted, his tongue moved between his teeth, and his gaze drew down my body like he knew something I didn't. Like he knew exactly what I was about. Like he could devore me.

My stomach jolted. "Hey. Didn't think you'd be here this year."

"Yeah, me either," Lakyn said. There was something in his tone, something not entirely friendly, that I wasn't sure what to do with. I looked at his rash guard instead. They provided good sun protection, but it was kind of interesting that Lakyn was wearing one when the other guys were trying to show off. I wondered what he was hiding. Or if it was just a confidence thing. He'd always been sort of thin.

Lakyn's head tilted again and I glanced up to see his attention on the football. "If I give this back do you promise not to aim at my fucking face again?"

My grin was involuntary. "Don't blame me, that was Matt's throw."

"Then I suggest catching."

It was rude but also caught my traterious mind up in thoughts that had more to do with my dick than with a game of football. I grabbed the ball off the table. "Glad to see you're still a little shit."

"Some things never change," Lakyn said.

He wasn't nice, he never had been, but there was something about him that made me want to stay. Something about the banter that I found intriguing. I looked over my shoulder before saying, "Do you play? Matt and I were thinking about getting a team together."

"No," Lakyn answered. It shouldn't have been surprising. Nothing about his probably malnourished frame screamed 'I like sports', but I still felt a strong stab of disappointment. I hadn't talked to Lakyn James in years, I didn't know why it mattered so much that I did now.