the Devil and the Sea

10| Back on the pitch

Noticing movement out of the corner of my eye, I look up and notice Marina at the door of my room, she does not look very friendly. I give her a quick glance and go back to reading the book. She says something, but her words do not reach my consciousness - since the very morning I have been absorbed in the narration of the novel "After", which, by the way, she recommended. Marina tugs at my toe in an attempt to get my attention.

"What?" I glare at her, irritated.

She interrupted Hardin Scott's important monologue!

"P-f, maybe for a change, stop being such a bitch?" Marina turns to leave.

Marina freaks out.

"Wait... sorry." Apology sounds as awkward as possible, because I don't know how - from the word at all - to apologize. "What did you ask?"

I patiently put the book down and lean back on my pillows, looking up at the white ceiling.

"Phil and Vincent invite us to play football." Without turning around, she briefly throws.

My heart skips a beat at the mention of Vincent, and I immediately jump out of bed. Today is the twenty-first of July, and I haven't seen them in weeks. Phil didn't really look at me, he hangs out with this Englishman Vincent all the time, - fucking bespectacled man, understand where he came from and why, - I quietly swallow a lump of light and inappropriate resentment.

"Really?" I go to the window and look out over the empty street, as if they might have come with her. "I'm gonna pass. They probably only called for you."

For a moment, I think that I have become what I never wanted to be: now I am in the shadow of my friend.

I decided to break that damn Vincent's heart, and I don't even see him myself. All I've been doing for the past three weeks has been doing my nightly jog, reading novels non-stop, making plans, and even trying to figure out who I want to be.

I haven't figured this out yet.

"Just say that you won't go just because Ricky is not there, and he wouldn't allow it." Marina throws.

What? Is this some kind of crappy attempt at manipulation?

Ricky drove home with my brother to take some things and go to his hairdresser. Ricky wanted to dye a few strands of hair blonde, as Ronaldo once dyed his hair. Of course, I had a hand in this decision.

"Don't talk nonsense, I do what I want, regardless of Ricky's opinion." And this is the truth.

Marina leaves the room without closing the door behind her, and I hear how quickly she descends the stairs. She called me to football every day. She could have left me alone, given that I refuse all the time.

Some part - a strange part that I just can't shut up - forces me to agree.

"Okay, wait," I shout so that Marina can hear.

Vincent is there. And there's no Ricky. It's time to fool this boy from England.

"He hasn't been a boy for a long time," an inner voice reminds me, and I remember his naked torso when he pestered me on the beach for the first time. How his hot body carried me to freshen up in the sea, although then it would not hurt him to cool himself.

I do my best in ten minutes to look as attractive as possible and I succeed. My eyes are at their best in just seven minutes and I'm ready to play. On the left eyelid, a strip of a fresh scar is slightly visible and I smile at him: I like the way it looks.

"By the way, do you know who drove past the football field yesterday?" Marina says when we leave my house to meet the hot evening.

I can see by the sparkle in her amber eyes who it is, but despite the fact that my throat is tight, I still ask: