Figuring You Out

Chapter Forty- Six

"Do you want a drink?" I ask, popping open the fridge anyway and rustling through it for some form of food.

"Sure, water's fine," he replies, perching himself on the edge of my sofa as his satchel sits dully at our feet, I swipe a water from the counter and a large packet of crisps.

"Here," I say, tossing the bundle at him, he catches it clumsily and places them both down on the side table as I sit beside him and place a gentle arm around his shoulder, "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he sighs, then laughs as he relaxes into me, "Remember what we were doing last time on this sofa?"

"Yeah," I say, cheekily, turning so that I am straddling him, "What do you say we pick up where we left off?" I ask, already moving my mouth to his, he kisses me back hard and passionate.

"Sounds like a good idea," he smirks, from under me, then brings a hand to cup my face and guide it towards his lips again just as my phone buzzes from my back pocket, "Ignore it," he says, I comply and our lips meet again, moving together with hunger but also a slight hesitance by his hands than rest on the small of my back, gently teasing the hem of my shirt. I move my hands towards his neck, massaging the nape of his neck that provided a perfect space for my thumb to rest, my phone begins to ring again and this time I pull away to Red's annoyance, "Why does this always happen?" he groans as I slide it out of my pocket and roll off him.

"I don't know," I chuckle, seeing Liam is ringing me, "Let me get this," I say, he lolls his head to the back of the sofa with annoyance and impatience, "Hello,"

"Alright, mate," Liam's voice echoes through the phone, "You good?"

"I'm good," I reply, "What's up?" I ask, feeling Red shift to uncap the bottle of water.

"Coach just told us that the match between you and dick brain is Saturday at five," he informs, as Red twists himself to curl around my side and brush his fingers across my pronounced collar bones that stick through my tightened pale blue shirt.

"Ok," I reply, trying to lower my volume as Red's ears are now tuned into our conversation.

"You ready?" he challenges, a slight smirk evident in his tone.

"I've been playing for the whole of my life, I'm ready," I reply, giving a tilt of cockiness to my voice.

"Alright, I'll see you later then," he says, amused by my confidence, the tone dials out and I place it face down on the coffee table in front of us.

"What match is that then?" Red muses, leaning his head on his hand. I consider him for a moment; his ever so slightly parted, swollen lips, his pinked cheeks dashed with freckles and I just want to tell him but my heart aches as the memories of earlier today where he was slumped against a wall hyperventilating, "What is it?" his voice pulling me back to reality, I turn to him and look at him, actually stare at him. His head cocked slightly to the side, his voice soft and gentle. I bring my hand to his face, my palm covering the whole side of his face and my thumb resting on his bottom lip. I run my thumb across it, as his expression drops and eyebrows narrow.

"Babe," he says, almost asking me a question at my trance, he brings his left hand to my wrist. He doesn't say anything, just stares at me, his blue ocean eyes searching mine.

"The club wasn't sure if I would play again after the incident so they brought in somebody else," I begin, swallowing thickly at the word incident and dropping my hand to my side, "I'm playing what's called a play-off which will decide who stays on at the club,"

"Fucking hell, why didn't you tell me?" he accuses, twisting himself so he is sitting properly. 

"I didn't want to worry you," I sigh pathetically, "It's fine, anyway, he's not going to beat me,"