Game, Set, Match

{6}

Nate

When I get home from school my mum fusses over my eye and I tell her I accidentally got hit during the game. I couldn't tell her I got into a fight. She would freak out and possibly call the school. My dad on the other hand didn't really care about my injuries. He was just a little disappointed about the results of the game but gave me a pat on the back and a "You'll get 'em next time."

I walk up the stairs to my bedroom and fall onto my bed, battered and bruised.

I feel like shit and not just physically.

The things I said about Chase, the things he said about me, makes me realise that perhaps I'm not as good of a guy as I thought I was. I've never gotten into a fight until yesterday and I've never actually hated someone until Chase.

Is it weird that I don't want to hate him anymore?

It's a different type of hate between us. Not the one that fuels years of hatred and rivalry between generations and generations but the type of hate that can be resolved. It's just like how the best friendships start with 'Remember when I used to hate you?'

It's not that I want to be best friends with him or anything, that spot is occupied by Josh. I'm just tired of fighting all the time. Hating someone takes a lot of energy.

All it takes is for one of us to be the bigger person, to call the other and apologise.

But I doubt that Chase will be the bigger person. Or that he has my phone number.

*

"Who the fuck is calling me?"

"Do you always pick up the phone like that?" I ask, a little startled by his attitude.

"Nate? How the hell did you get my number?" He says through the phone.

It took me ridiculously long to find his number. None of my friends had it (but that's understandable) and were a little confused as to why I was asking for it. I didn't know the name of Chase's friends so I ended up asking one of the girls he went out with. She gave me the number and here I am. Calling him.

"That's not important. I'm calling to say that I'm-well I-" I take a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He asks confused.

"Yeah about the stuff I said."

"Oh. Ok then."

I thought maybe he would apologise to me as well but instead there's an awkward silence and I fear he's going to end the call.

"What do we do now?" He says.

"We could always start Coach's bonding exercise? Get to know each other? It'll give us a chance to start over."

He takes a minute to think.

"Ok. Fine." He says plainly and I oddly catch myself smiling.

"Good."

He sounds the same on the phone. There's always a lack of emotion with every syllable he speaks. The only emotion I ever see off of him is anger or annoyance. The conversation has barely begun yet he seems like he's already over it.

"So, Coach said the first question is on family. Tell me about yours." I put my phone on speaker, looking around my room and grabbing a discarded sheet of paper and a pen to scribble his answers on. Coach did say he wanted the answers on his desk early Monday morning, probably as proof to show we actually did the task.

"Dad's dead. Mum's gone so I live with my older brother."

"Oh jeez sorry about that."

"There's nothing to be sorry about."

"Oh. Ok." I quickly scribble down what he's told me. "What's your brother's job?" I ask, trying to coax more information out of him.

"He works for a business."

"Ok cool. Anything else to say about your family?"

"Nope. What about you?"

"Well I'm an only child, I think that's why my mum is so overprotective of me but she does spoil the heck out of me."

"So what I got from that is that you've always been a spoiled brat."

"Hey!" I say to him. "We're supposed to be trying to get along here."

Is he even trying?

"Alright, alright. Calm down golden boy." He's laughing on the other side of the phone.

"And you can stop calling me that."

"Nope." He says, getting too much enjoyment from the stupid nickname. I roll my eyes even though he can't see me and continue talking about my family.

"My dad works at a car retail. He was the one who encouraged me to do football and he's very supportive of me, but a lot of the time I feel like the only thing my dad and I have in common is football. Don't get me wrong, I have a great relationship with my dad but I don't want every conversation to start with "How was your match son?" You know?"

"I don't know actually. Dead dad remember." Chase says.

"Oh yeah, I'm sorry. I've just been rambling on and on and-"

"It's alright." Chase interrupts. "You just have more to say than I do. Now tell me about your friends."

I tell him about my mates but only about my closest ones like Josh. I add some information about my girlfriend too. Then I move on to tell him about my future. I never really took the time to think about it. What I'm going to do. Where I'm going to go. I just know that I'm definitely leaving this town. Chase tells me that he doesn't think he's ever going to.

"You could always try out a career in football. I'm sure you're good enough." I tell him.

"Is that a compliment Nightly?" He asks and I can picture the smug look on his face. "You think I'm good at football."

"Well Coach Ray made you captain didn't he?"

"Co-captain." Chase counters.

We talk until my piece of paper is filled with writing. Until my phone's about to die. Until my eyes are drifting closed. He's a good listener. It felt a bit like a therapy session and I realise now that I enjoy talking to him. I didn't expect to talk to him for this long. I didn't even think we could have a conversation without it turning into an argument (although that nearly happened twice). And even though he says that's all he's got to say. And even though we've been speaking for too long. I feel like there's something else. Something more to the buzz cut boy.