When You Least Expect It

10

Harry bowed his head and murmured, "Yes."

"Then I expect to see you in practice more. No dilly-dallying about." Benjamin directed a pointed look at me.

"Yes," Harry affirmed, standing as straight as a soldier.

"Good." Benjamin checked his watch. "I'm leaving again later tonight, but I'll be back before your next game. I hope the next time I hear about you, it's because you broke the school record again, not because you and your silly friends showed up shitfaced to practice." His gaze lingered on me. "I'll see you around, Maxine."

Harry yanked off his swimming cap and stormed out. I sensed his rage radiating as he marched into the men's bathroom. I grabbed his backpack and hurried after him, waiting by the door unnoticed.

"Are you okay?"

"So fucking sick of him." Harry clutched the maroon towel around his neck so tight that his knuckles went white. "I beat the school record in the 100 meter breast stroke. Is that not enough?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "He's never pleased with me, no matter what I do... I just wish he would've stayed in Canada. Don't know why the fuck he thinks I want or need him here. I've been doing fine without him."

Harry's older brother, Ash, went to rehab a year back for drug addiction. I guess that was the reason Benjamin was so tough on Harry. Something about making the family look better after the divorce. Harry had more on his plate than most people assumed.

I didn't know how to comfort him, because when Harry got in a foul mood, it was hard pulling him out of it. Wrapping my arms around him, I kissed his shoulder. "I'm sorry. He's an ass."

"Don't talk about him like that." Harry's accent got especially Canadian when he was pissed.

I felt as if I once again was a little girl, being scolded by Mom. "Sorry," I said meekly.

Harry sighed and walked away. "Gonna wash up." He disappeared into one of the stalls.

"Do you want me to wait for you here?" I called.

No answer.

Harry's shower seemed to last an eternity. When he finally called my name, I opened the stall door. He stood; a towel wrapped around his midriff. "Can you get my clothes for me? Thanks." I hated when he talked to me like I was his housekeeper.

I took his duffel bag and gave it to him. He instructed me to get inside the tiny stall. The floor was wet and slippery. Harry pulled a shirt over his head and wiped his tearstained face on his elbow.

Then he took hold of my face and kissed me, hard.

I pressed myself against the drenched wall. "W-what're you doing?"

Without looking at me, he mumbled, "Sorry." But he wasn't sorry, because he did it again.

Again, and again.

I understood, then, what he was doing. It had happened a million times before. "Harry..." He slipped my shirt off. My heart started to pound. "We shouldn't."

Harry didn't hear me, or maybe he did, and kissed down my neck. "Why not?"

"B-because..." I struggled to catch my breath, my excitement conflicted with a sense of unease. I shouldn't have come to his stupid game.