Blurred Lines [BxB] COMPLETED

0.03

0.03 - Saturday 6:31 a.m.

Maverick Bale

Too bright. Too warm. My eyes peel open. Rhys is lying on his side, facing me. The blinds have been raised, and the sun shines right in my eyes.

"Finally," Rhys murmurs, staring at me with an odd intensity. "You need to get up." My head pounds. Rhys's mussed hair falls over his forehead.

"What time is it?" I ask groggily.

"Six thirty," Rhys says.

"Fucking hell, why?"

Rhys raises a concerned eyebrow. "You have practice in half an hour."

"Shit." I scramble up, throwing the covers off me. Rhys sits against the headboard of the bed, phone already in hand. I pause once I'm standing on the floor, turning to look at Rhys. "Wait, how did you know I have practice today?"

Rhys looks up from his phone. "You told me last night."

I try to remember telling him, but my memory of last night is cloudy and bitter—better ignored for now.

"What are you doing today?" I ask.

Rhys doesn't look up from his phone. "Probably gonna see Beverly."

"We hanging out later?"

Rhys gives a noncommittal shrug. I push down a wave of irritation.

"Well, I need to go to practice. So text me," I say. Rhys doesn't reply as I grab my uniform and exit the room.

***

Alex waves me down as I jog onto the field, my lacrosse bag slung over my shoulder. Heat radiates from the grass as I make my way towards my scattered teammates.

"Dude! You must've been so wasted last night," Alex says as I come closer. I stop dead in my tracks.

"What?" I ask.

"Ha! He can't even remember," Cole snickers. My heartbeat pounds in my ears.

"Remember what?" I ask, and my voice sounds too high and strained. Alex laughs and takes his phone out.

"Someone sent this photo out to everyone. It's from the party last night," Alex says, handing me his phone. I grasp it quickly, turning away to hide my trembling hands.

The photo is dark and blurry, but I can still unmistakably see my profile, lips pressed against Jackson's.

"I don't remember this," I lie, handing Alex his phone. By now the rest of the team has wandered over to us. Cole raises an eyebrow.

"Just how drunk did you get?" Cole asks.

"Are you sure you didn't take any of my stuff?" Alex adds. I pretend to think about last night, then shrug with as much nonchalance as I can muster.

"I don't remember anything," I repeat, shaking my head. Everyone's heads turn to the street where Coach's truck rumbles to a stop. A few of us groan, and quickly run to their bags to put away their phones.

I start running too, but Alex holds me back. "Hey man," he says uneasily, hesitating before asking, "are you secretly gay?"

The lie slips out easier than I expect. "You wish."

Alex laughs, relief blatant in his grin. He shoves my chest. "Kinky," he says, and the rest of the team chuckles.

"Just how you like it, huh?" I say, earning a few snorted laughs. Alex gives me the finger, before slapping my back hard.

"I knew you weren't gay. Your fashion sense sucks," Alex says.

"And you know better?"

"Hell yes. And the ladies love me for it."

I roll my eyes, the corners of my lips tugging upwards. Some of the tremors in my nerves have dissipated.

Coach calls us over to the sidelines, clipboard in hand and a stern scowl on his face.

"Five laps!" He growls. We drop our helmets and start towards the track. The rest of the team grumbles quietly, but I couldn't be happier, because everything was back to normal.

For now.