Alleyway BxB

XXV (Clockwork)

WEDNESDAY, 24 OCTOBER
MARCELLO LOCKHEART

My thoughts were running like clockwork. Felix was in total control and I executed everything to the best of my abilities. I made sure every word was smooth-laced with Felix's written passion.

Nick was the same-Mateo was in full swing too. Every breath he took was perfect, every stutter and even the looks in his eyes. Whether it was desperation, embarrassment, shock, worry, anything. He did it all and he did them well.

Lift, kiss, back up. Move. Get a little more touchy. Act like I wanted it.

Imagining Nathan instead of Nick always made it easier. Of course, there was nothing wrong with Nick, but the passion wasn't there between us anymore. But I would give Nathan my all when we came down to it. And the thought of that was really exciting.

"Cut! That was great boys. Treat yourselves to a break. Get ready in an hour."

It took a couple of tries before we got the perfect shot and I had started to sweat. I couldn't imagine how Nick was fairing in his button up and tight dress pants.

Nick and I huffed as we both collapsed on the bed-pulled our shirts back on after ripping them off of each other for the fifth time. Nick was already missing a button.

"I thought that was never going to end," Nick yawned as he lied back. "I think you overdosed on those chicken sandwiches. Your mouth tastes like I licked a jar of mayo."

I breathed into my hand and took a whiff. It was like sticking my nose into the tub.

Damn, he's not wrong.

"But you'd be lying if you told me those sandwiches aren't good."

It had been a few days since I flew out to New York and there was not a day that passed where I failed to call Nathan. The best time was just before bed when we could just talk until one of us fell asleep. It was always me due to the time zones. However, no matter how hard Nathan tried, last night, it was him who passed out first. He was two days away from his first game back on field and he must have tired himself out whilst training.

All the other times when I passed out, Nathan always took a screenshot to post on his story. This time around, you bet I took the opportunity. Only issue was, Nathan looked cute and cosy. my photos looked like I took a few too many drinks and was dumped back into bed by a couple of slightly less drunk friends.

"How is Nate? I haven't heard about him for the past couple of hours."

I quirked a brow. "And you want to hear about him?"

"He's more interesting than you are talking about sandwiches."

It had been a while since he willingly asked for a Nathan update because I constantly fired them his way. I rubbed my hands together and was suddenly in a great mood. "He's playing a game this Friday, but I won't be able to watch it because I'll be stuck here with you and everyone else." And there it went. It dropped at the end there. It wasn't the best thought to think about.

Nick patted my knee before pulling himself upright. "At least you'll be home by Christmas."

"That'd be a comforting thing to hear if I wasn't missing out on their dance."

"What do you mean?"

I explained it to him: the rivalry and all; and only then did I realise how weird it sounded. It sounded like a dysfunctional relationship. Their schools were the student body equivalents of a divorced couple who unfortunately moved onto the same street.

But he seemed to understand. "This 'truce' it's a dance?"

"That's what Nate told me."

"Is he supposed to have a date?"

I shrugged. "He really wanted me to be his date. I did too but I know they have a prom next. I'll make sure I'm there for that."

"No. Hold on. When's this dance?" He had his full attention on me now and that usually meant business. Back then, when he shot me that look during an argument, he usually came out victorious.

"November 2nd and 3rd. Friday and Saturday. 6 p.m. for both the game and the dance."

He nodded and pointed a finger at me. "We don't work on Saturdays."

Copying the finger, I stuck mine in his face too. "And we finish late on Fridays."

"You're going to this dance... and that game." It was like a declaration. A promise.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "They're not going to let me fly out in the middle of production, Nick."

"It takes five hours to fly to California." He wasn't listening to me. He went quiet for a couple of seconds and looked like he was trying to solve some sort of equation. "Go eat more of those sandwiches or something. I'll be back." He had begun to scoot to the edge of the bed.

I grabbed the back of his crumpled shirt. "Where are you going?"

Nick slapped my hand away. "Shut up. I'll handle this."