Oliver's POV
I met up with the boys from my rugby club along the corridor who were rolling their eyes as I strolled out of the classroom. A few of us boys when to Kington Rugby Club as well as playing for the school.
"So, what's good?" Dominic greeted, in his own way, slapping my outstretched hand. That was Dominic for you clipped to perfection hair, tanned spainish skin and a slim body that was perfect for his role as fly- half on the pitch.
"Chaps," Bram nodded, sincerely, he played up front with me. Chaps was my nickname at training along with Olly but that one's mostly from the family, "Ready for tonight?"
"It's just training practice," I shrugged.
"Yeah," he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "But the girls hockey team are practising tonight,"
It was fair to say, Bram and all the other boys were as straight as could be, never even glance at a boy longer than a second in fear of being called gay. It isn't really as ruthless as I'm making out. I live in West London, in a pretty done up school, in a pretty done up area but that didn't make me feel any better when I walk past a group of extreme Christians 'preaching the word of God' on the way home from school. People were generally cool if you were part of the LGBT community but I just wasn't quite ready to be a public part of it myself yet. My thoughts wandered as I started changing into the standard black kit with red lining and then the Kington logo emblazed on the right side. The other boys were changing around me and were shoving on their boots clogged with mud. They had this ora about them; we were thick as thieves some of us but I still felt like there was a wall standing between us. Me and Liam, for instance had been tight since year seven.
"Bro, honestly that science lesson was lit," Liam bounced, I turn to him from my desk.
"What the fuck are you actually going on about?" I reply, laughing at his new found language, whilst scribbling down the French homework.
"Yeah, dude. Anyways better go football's calling," he says, turning with his new found swagger.
"You don't even play football," I comment, he shrugs and gives that grin I know all to well. I handed a completed homework sheet back to some nerd I got chatting to and followed my best mate causing mischief out the library.
"Come on, Olly. Coach will have a heart attack if we aren't running around like a 'bunch of organised chickens'" he said, finishing with an impression of our Yorkshire coach. I chuckle and jog out there, into the mud and setting November sun with the rest of my team. My turf, my home.
YOU ARE READING
Figuring You Out
Teen FictionA story of love, friendship, scholarship and the strangest kind of bravery. Oliver is the typical school jock; attractive, cheeky, clever and a player of a tough rugby team. But he has one secret that threatens to ruin him; he's gay. His family, be...
