Cold and Charisma (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Nine

The leaves of autumn were crushed below the determined rhythm of my feet, unnerving in my efforts to stride over to where he was. The humidity of the weather made me wonder how he was able to play in this heat.

Don't fuck it up this time, Archer. Don't. Fuck. It. Up. As I inched closer to where he was on the field, I realized that he hadn't realized I was there yet. Through all of his running and kicking, not once did his focus divert to something other than the game.

I took off my suit jacket, and slung it over my shoulder to try and lessen the effects that the weather had on me. The sun was pouring onto the field, with no trees nearby to provide even a bit of shade. I couldn't see how he could survive this– it felt like hell out here.

Early autumn has always been one of my least favorite times of the year, with its hot, humid temperatures, and a tendency to make me feel like I was burning. As I grew closer, I began to hear his exasperated grunts, his quiet string of curses, as he kicked the soccer ball around.

His flushed cheeks stood out against his pale skin, reddened by both exertion and the heat. It spread across his face like a blush. I wondered if he'd ever blush at me. I chuckled at that thought; it'd be out of character for him.

"Hey," I called out. Riley snapped his head to look at me, halting his movements. His blush deepened slightly as our eyes met, but his usual distasteful grimace quickly returned.

"You again," Riley retorted, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Stalking me now?" I chuckled and moved even closer now that I'd caught his attention. I kicked the ball with the heel of my foot, and brought it closer to me as I began to speak.

"No, just wanted to talk." His gaze averted from me, to the soccer ball on the ground. "Great, are you here to tell me that you're better than me again? What, are you gonna show me some tricks now?" Riley said, talking about the ball.

"Nah, I just wanted to play with you. Soccer is more fun with two, don't you think?" A smile crept onto my face as I said this, and I made sure to sound friendly– I didn't want him getting the wrong idea again.

He groaned, and clicked his tongue, "I don't need company to have fun, especially not with someone like you," Riley retorted sharply, his voice edged with annoyance. My smile never faltered as I began to kick the ball around.

"I've seen you play, you got some serious skill there." I said, hoping to at least flatter him. I continued to kick it around, while I waited for his response. ""Flattery won't change anything," Riley shot back sarcastically. "I know I'm good without your compliments."

Snarky, huh? He was good, and he knew it. As I kicked it around, I thought of another conversation-starter.

"Did you play a lot back in Russia?" This question seemed to have piqued his interest, and he finally looked at me again, arms crossed. "Does it matter?" He sneered, moving closer so he could kick the ball away from me.

A chuckle left my mouth at his remark, and I said, "No, I just wanted to know." Every time he tried kicking the ball away from me, I just kicked it away from him. At this point, it seemed like I was teasing him.

"Give it back!" Riley said, voice full of annoyance as he tried kicking it away from me. Like I said, I grew up in a household with a dad who was an athlete– he taught me everything I needed to know about sports, not just basketball and football, but soccer too.

I'd picked up a few tricks from him—how to outmaneuver opponents, frustrate them with my footwork—and now, for the first time, I was putting those skills to good use. Man, Drew and Carter would be proud.

"On one condition," I teased, continuing to toy with the ball, enjoying watching Riley struggle to keep pace.

"Just hand it over already!"