Better Sorry than Safe

1.

He was watching.

Dashing across the muddy field with the ball at his feet, and Tom of the other team breathing down his neck, Sem Bolton didn't have time to even glance. But he felt those dark brown eyes burning on him. He couldn't mess up. Not in front of him.

Sliding to a halt, Sem positioned himself and kicked the ball at Nick. Way too hard: it flew right past the intended target. Nick promptly sprinted after the ball in pursuit, and Sem scowled, roughly wiping his sweaty curls out of his face. His eyes darted to the fence that separated the football fields from the footpath.

He was still there on the other side of the fence, casually leaning against a bench and following their game of football. Sem saw him walking or jogging past almost every game, but this was the first time he'd actually stopped to watch.

His dark eyes were squeezed to slits in the bright sun, but that same sun also made his olive skin glow. As always, it almost seemed like he was trying to understate his handsomeness: his straight, black hair was cut short and simple, he wore loose clothes, and a nonchalant stubble adorned his chiseled jaw. His efforts to look ordinary were in vain. Sem didn't fall for it. In fact, the more he saw him, the more handsome he became.

It was pathetic that after weeks of constantly sneaking glances, and major crushing, Sem still didn't even have a name to the face. Not a real name, anyway. He'd been stuck with nothing but "hot jogging guy" at first. Then, one day he'd showed up wearing a t-shirt that, along with some motorcycle logo, read the name 'Jack's' in big bold letters. For a lack of better, Sem had finally dubbed him Jack.

Jack was not wearing his Jack's shirt today. Unfortunately, most of his shape was hidden by baggy jogging pants and an oversized blue shirt. Sem could however still make out a nice pair of broad shoulders, and strong arms. He had a good body. Had to work out to look like that too, yet he wasn't muscular like a typical gym rat. Maybe he was more an outdoorsy type?

"Sem!" Nick's voice rang out, with thinly veiled annoyance. Sem's head snapped back to the game, and he immediately got why his best friend sounded so irritated. The ball had already been played all the way to the other side of the field while Sem was off to lala-land. Cursing under his breath, he hurried forward to join his team.

"Open on your left!"

Almost instantly the ball came Sem's way. But as he tried to receive, he slipped on the wet grass, nearly losing his balance and struggling to even keep himself standing. Tom easily stole the ball and ran off, the others right behind him. Matthew, who'd shot the ball at Sem, glared at him in the passing, his grey eyes flashing with anger. Matthew hated losing, especially if it was someone else's fault. Sem just glared right back. Whatever, he wasn't worried about Matthew's opinion.

More importantly: was there any way Jack might've, don't know, gotten blinded by the sun and missed that? Great, here was his one chance to impress the hot college guy, and he was totally blowing it. Sneaking another quick look, Sem saw that Jack was still focused on the game, on whoever had the ball. Not on him specifically. Wasn't that depressing? 

Okay, Sem wasn't expecting them to wind up having wild, steamy sex in the sport centre showers after the match, like his daydreams usually went. But he had expected to at least have done something cool to impress him by now. Instead, Jack was probably wondering if Sem got hit in the head with one too many balls.

"Okay, what are you doing?" A firm push on his shoulder made Sem turn his head.

Nick was jogging alongside him. With his light blond hair and freckled skin Nick tended to burn alive, and he was already starting to resemble a tomato. Nick cared way more about football than their coach, Mr. Jones, did. He was often left in charge of the game, and Sem could feel a scolding from his best friend coming up. 

"What?"

Nick's forehead crinkled as both eyebrows raised, and Sem let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not me. It's this stupid field. Not my fault."

"No," Nick started slowly, "you are sucking. Stop sucking."

Sem rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks. Any other great advice to offer?"

"Yes. Stop sucking." Nick gave him a dismissive wave, and he was off again.

"Stupid mud," Sem muttered to himself. His shoes were all covered in the stuff, too. Their original color wasn't even visible anymore. Why the hell was it still raining so much anyway? It was supposed to be spring, which meant sunshine only. He hated cleaning his shoes. He hated mud. And most of all, he hated Nick being right.

He was sucking at football, and that's exactly what Jack was going to think. So far, all Sem had achieved was making shitty passes, only topped by awkwardly stumbling around, and not even hitting the ball. That was some FIFA world cup material right there. Who knew when Jack was going to stop by again, if ever? He'd forever think that Sem sucked at football after today. 

No, that was bullshit. Jack would forget about that bad football player's very existence the moment he walked away, and never think about him again. He'd get up from that bench and... and Jack had just gotten up from the bench.

He was leaving.

Sem's heart drummed in a way that had nothing to do with running up and down a field. No, don't leave. He had to do something. Something big, no, huge, to revert the damage, and fast. Think, no, don't think. No time, idiot. He needed to just go for it, whatever 'it' was.

For anything to happen, Sem first needed to get his feet on that ball. Where was the ball? Callum had it. Pff, he could take on Callum, piece of cake. Sem charged right at him without hesitation. He leapt in between Callum and Ethan, just after Callum tried to pass to the latter. And then he ran, the wind in his ears, and the precious ball securely at his feet. The goal was straight ahead, but as if there were little strings attached to to his eyes, they were pulled to the benches behind the goal. To Jack.

A jolt went down his spine as he was met by a pair of dark brown eyes, and Sem instantly lost control over the lower half of his face. He just couldn't help it: his lips automatically curled up into a wide grin. That's right, you watch Jack. Wait- was he smiling back? It was subtle, but the corners of Jack's lips tugged up too. Jack was smiling back at him. Just a reserved, closed-lipped smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

As his stomach did a series of loops and backflips, Sem instantly forgot about his tired limbs, his burning lungs, and even about the stupid mud on his shoes. He sped up, legs moving faster and faster by the second, until it felt like he was no longer touching the ground.

He was, no longer touching ground.

Sem's right foot slid away from below him as he stepped on something. Something harder and far more slippery than the field. In a flash Sem saw Jack's smile disappear and eyes widening, before he went down, face first, into the mud.

 A/N: 

A quick note: Sem's opinions are not (necessarily) my opinions. I intended him as a character who will develop during the story. He'll learn - but he won't be perfect. 

IF YOU SEE THIS BOOK ON ANY OTHER WEBSITE THAN W A T T P A D IT WAS STOLEN! I DID NOT ALLOW ANY TRANSLATIONS EITHER. Please, let me know if you find it anywhere else so I can take action against the plagiarisers.