"Fuck me," I groaned as I hit the ground.
We were, who would have guessed, back on the soccer field. It was a warm Wednesday evening, a time I could have used to take a nap, but instead I was risking my life and well-being chasing a damn ball again.
"Stand up," Sam next to me said dryly.
I let out an exhausted sigh and rolled on my back. "You're the reason I'm on the ground in the first place, you get no saying in this."
"Yan, can you stand up?" Redmille called from the other side of the field. I flashed him a thumbs-up.
"I'm fine! Just go on with the game and let me here to die," I called back, closing my tired eyes. "And please don't step on me while you play."
Next thing I knew Sam grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet, not bothering to be careful. I shot her a look through narrowed eyes that was both filled with anger and shock, but she just turned around and jogged back to our teammates.
I rolled my eyes and slowly followed her, not really having enough motivation to move fast. Redmille blew his whistle, and the sharp sound echoed through the whole field.
"Go on with the game! Yan, sit on the bench."
"Aw, really?" I let out a frustrated sigh and turned direction, continuing to walk straight towards the Coach.
"I don't need you on the field if you're not giving a hundred percent," he said firmly, his eyes fixed on my teammates as I sat down on one of the benches on the stands.
"It's just practice," I said as I rolled my eyes. "And I'm tired. Maybe if we didn't have practice every day I would actually have the time to take a nap."
Redmille didn't even glance at me, and I decided that talking to him wasn't worth the effort, so I leaned back and tried to relax. The bench was hard though and the constant blow of Redmille's whistle just kept getting more and more annoying, so I ended up yearning for practice to be over already.
When it finally was, I was pretty sure I had grown a few grey hairs.
I walked over to where Asher's group and I had left our bags, glad that I could at last take off these damn soccer shoes. Tyler had said I would get used to them, but it had been what, over a week now? And they were still the most uncomfortable shoes I had ever worn.
"You played really good today," Asher said as he pulled out his water bottle. "You were so fast, I never even saw you on the field."
I rolled my eyes in annoyance. "I can't wait for the day someone kicks that stupid ball into your balls."
"Happened already. Twice, actually," Gill said which earned her a glare from Asher.
"Gill," he said warningly.
"No, please, proceed," I said eagerly.
Gill locked her lips with an imaginary key that she threw far away and shot me an apologetic shrug. I sighed and stuffed my soccer shoes into my bag before contentedly slipping back into my worn out every day-shoes.
"Wanna come over for dinner?" Sam asked Gill. "Amina is making that soup you like."
In an instant, Gill's eyes lit up. "Oh my god, yes! Ugh, your aunt is the best."
Sam just shrugged. "I don't know. She bought me another one of those awful dresses, as if I would ever actually put them on."
"You wore a dress to my birthday last year," Gill said. "You looked pretty."
"Shut up."
Sam turned away, but I caught the way her ears were blushing.
"I can't believe you still don't know how to take a compliment," Asher said as he shouldered his bag.
The girl's eyes narrowed as they landed on him. "And I can't believe you haven't been castrated by a ball yet."
"Ha!" I called excitedly. "Two against one. Take that, sucker."
Sam just eyed me before turning away again. Asher raised a brow at me and slowly walked down the stand's steps.
A group of our teammates walked past the stands, and I recognized Trevor being in their middle. They were chatting carelessly while their laughter filled the air, and not one of them turned their head our way.
Asher walked over to the pair of stairs that led down the stands, and I quickly grabbed my bag and hurried to follow him.
"I think I got it now," I said once I had reached him. He just glanced at me but didn't say anything, so I continued talking instead. "Why you don't like Trevor. I figured it out."
"Please, enlighten me."
"He started something with your ex," I stated. "Or with your girlfriend and you broke up with her because of it."
Asher raised a brow as he eyed me. "How did you come up with that?"
A spark of hope lightened up in my chest. "Is it true?"
"No."
The spark died, and I rolled my eyes. "Well, it was worth a try."
We continued walking in silence for a moment before Asher decided to take on talking again.
"Was that really your first guess? It was pretty bad."
I frowned. "It's a good motive to hate someone," I contradicted. "What is it then? Are you rivals? Friends that turned into enemies? Half-brothers?"
I usually wasn't this curious since other people didn't interest me enough to give them that much thought, but it was different with Asher. I just wanted to know what exactly made Trevor so special.
He sighed and tightened the grip around his bag's strap. "What do I have to do to make you shut up?"
"How about tell me the truth?"
The boy next to me shot me a look I met with a just as serious gaze, and he rolled his eyes.
"Just forget it. It's not important."
"It obviously matters to you, so duh it is," I replied.
"That doesn't mean it's any of your business," he said, his tone suddenly hard and firm. "Stop bothering me about it. Or at least buy me coffee first, I haven't had a single cup all day."
I raised a brow. "So you're trying to make deal? I buy you coffee and you tell me?"
"I'm trying to make you shut up, but it's obviously not working," he replied with a sigh. "It's none of your concern, so forget it. Bye, city boy."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving me to walk back to Michael's alone. I was still thinking about our conversation when I entered his house and shut the door behind me.
"Kiri?" Michael called from my room. I got out of my shoes, wondering what exactly he was doing in there.
"Could this be considered an invasion of priva-"
I stopped in my tracks when I saw Michael covered in what had to be clothes, standing in front of the closet with a puzzled expression. An open suitcase was laying in front of him, and I recognized it from already being on top of the closet when I first came here almost three weeks ago.
"I can explain," he began, and I crossed my arms.
"Please tell me you weren't going through my stuff."
Michael's forehead turned into a frown. "Of course I wasn't," he said. "I was trying to get down this... my suitcase, and it cracked open and fell."
I stepped closer and picked up a tight shirt that looked rather feminine. "Why do you have a suitcase filled with women's clothes?"
The man in front of me blushed a little and took the shirt from me, adding it to the pile of clothes in his arms.
"None of your business."
I rolled my eyes. "I swear to god, if I hear that phrase one more time today I'm going to scream."
Michael shot me a rather confused look before bending down and throwing everything back into the suitcase. Pants, shirts, a few sweatshirts. Nothing else that could give away who all this belonged to.
I sat down on the mattress and crossed my legs, impatiently watching Michael gathering all his stuff. When he was done shoving everything into the suitcase, he picked it up with a tired sigh.
"So, are you going to tell me about this now?" I asked calmly. I was sure he was aware that he didn't have to, after all we were pretty much still strangers and not even close to leaving that stage behind.
But telling me about this could be the first big step in that direction – and I knew he knew. He raised a hand to rub one of his eyes, his expression one of pure exhaustion.
"I had a relationship that ended a few months ago," he finally said, his voice slow. For once he didn't seem insecure, he rather gave the impression to just be done with everything. "This is what she left behind. She never came back to get it and I never found the time to call her, so it's still here."
I leaned back, my gaze still fixed on the man in front of me. He had already mentioned once that there had been someone, but it didn't work out. I had already had the impression that he was still not over it, and now was the time to finally get answers.
"How long ago has that been?" I asked, my tone having gotten a bit softer.
Michael scratched the back of his neck. "Almost seven months now."
His gaze wandered to the suitcase. He didn't notice that he had missed a scarf, so it was just laying abandoned in the corner.
"So what? You never leave the house because you're scared of running into her?" I asked.
"She moved back to her parents out of town," he replied. "I don't know where she is now, though. I don't know anything." He looked down, raking a hand through his hair. "I remembered I had this in here, and I wanted to get it in case you... I don't know, get curious or something. I wanted to have it close."
Yeah, he was definitely not over her yet.
I yawned and stretched, eyeing my ridiculously big uniform before letting my gaze drift back to Michael.
"It's fine, I wouldn't trust that in a room with me as well," I said honestly. "But you shouldn't have it in your room, either."
He raised a brow, waiting for me to continue speaking. I stood up, not knowing why exactly I was doing what I was doing when I walked over to him and reached for the suitcase.
Michael watched as I carried it out of the room, and when I heard footsteps closely following behind I knew he was coming with me. I opened the front door and walked out of the house, not bothered by the fact that I was only wearing socks while my shoes were still placed neatly next to the door.
"Uhm, Kiri?" Michael asked, that uncertainty back in his voice.
"Trust me," I said even though I didn't even trust myself. "It's better to get rid of this. You won't need it anyway, and neither does she."
I placed the suitcase next to a few trash cans near the sidewalk, then turned back to face Michael.
"We'll just wait until the garbage truck comes and takes this away, and then that woman, whatever her name is, will be completely gone from our lives."
Michael's gaze was fixed on the suitcase. "Lana," he mumbled, his voice soft and weak. "Her name is Lana."
"It could end in Del Ray and it still wouldn't make a difference," I replied. "So, what's for dinner?"
He slowly turned his head to look at me, and when his gaze met mine, a small smile started to spread on his face. Not sure how I should react to that I just nodded and walked back into the house, already regretting having left my shoes behind when I made my way over the path made of pebbles.
That had been quite... new. I wasn't used to helping others like that. I wasn't used to caring about others. But Michael was so miserable all the time it slowly but surely started to take over me as well, and I couldn't let that happen, after all.
Maybe I should just admit that I felt sorry for him.
He disappeared in the kitchen right after we were back inside, and I went back to my room to change into something more comfortable. When I took off my shirt my gaze landed on the scarf that was still laying in the corner.
Deciding that I would deal with it later I turned away, pushing all the tiring thoughts out of my mind and only focusing on what Michael would prepare for dinner.