Conflicted Eyes, Confusing Feelings | Complete

s e v e n t y - f i v e

A highly anticipated (and requested) chapter featuring none other than Randall Kuusisto.

Let's lighten the mood a little bit, no?

Chapter 75: Confessions 

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Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me, but then I remember that I put up with you, so we're even

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[A few days ago]

[Randall]

Tennis practice had been a thing of the past for Randall — ever since he became wrapped up in his friendship with Sage and whisked away into the responsibilities to help run his uncle's diner, it wasn't that he didn't want to attend practices, more like he felt as though he couldn't. Being out there on the field, sprinting back and forth to connect the racquet with the ball and send it careening across the net, it was an exhilarating feeling, albeit tiring as well. The sun glistened down on him and his opponent in its finest rays, scalding multiple places on his forearm in blotches of scarlet although he reapplied sunscreen: SPF 120.

Regardless, after a tiring day and brief chat with his former teammates and coach, Randall strutted across the court, slipping through the iron gates as he made his way to the changing room. A shout from the other direction pulled his eyes in the direction to his left, which then had him staring at multiple boys on the football field chasing a black and white ball. Instinctively, amethyst eyes bounced from player to player, searching for the one boy with dyed red hair, sky blue contacts, and a pierced lip. Realizing he did so, however, he looked away and continued to the locker room, which was empty.

Thankfully.

Randall strut over to his locker and entered his combination code, after which it popped open, and he began to shove his equipment inside — tennis balls, racquet, sneakers, headband, when the sound of a door swinging open caused his head to snap in the direction it came from. The person obnoxiously whistled an old country tune as they made their way around the aisles of lockers, completely oblivious to the presence of another. Randall laid eyes on the person, and immediately he wished he didn't, for his stomach contracted in a series of knots and kinks afterward.

Standing on the other side of the changing room was none other than Carter Al-Balawin, clad in nothing but the white cotton towel draped around his lean hips. At that moment, the senior was trying to get his locker open, but to no avail, he scowled and muttered something in Portuguese. Randall averted his attention, back to his own locker before his eyes could embark on their journey. One that would elicit raunchy, unwanted thoughts, as it usually did, ninety percent of the times he laid eyes on Carter.

After grabbing a change of clothes and quietly shitting his locker with a low click, he intended to slip into the showers undetected, but that plan came to a halting crash at the sound of someone uttering his name.

"Randie?"

Well, shit.

Randall's footsteps slowed to a stop, and against his wishes, he turned to look at Carter, whose pierced lips broke out in a ginormous grin. He lifted a hand and beckoned to the junior. "Help a brother out?"

At first, Randall contemplated making an excuse and excusing himself to avoid the argument that would ensure, but how could he leave, especially when Carter wore such an irresistible smile? After several seconds of standing there, debating the pros and cons in his head, his feet made the ultimate decision by shuffling in the direction Randall's heart screeched not to; Carter's direction. He stopped next to him, lifting his eyes to look at the senior struggling with the combination code on the locker. Eventually, he grew frustrated and ended up banging his fist against the cold metal instead.