Please, Just Moan For Me

Travis

"Shit!"

Luke steps back with that arrogant little smirk he always wears. I dust off my uniform and check my thigh; luckily, it doesn’t hurt like it usually does after these falls. A shadow falls over me, and when I look up, I see Drake offering his hand. I grab it firmly, feeling the strong pull that brings me back to my feet.

“Don’t sweat it,” he says, lightly patting my shoulder. “Luke only pulls that shit because he knows how good you are and wants you out of the game any way he can.”

I know he’s right. That was already the third or fourth time Luke had deliberately knocked me down just during today’s practice. Drake gives me a knowing smile, we laugh, and jog back onto the field to finish the tactical drill.

The sun beats down mercilessly, and as soon as the coach blows the whistle ending the session, the entire squad heads straight for the locker room showers. The best part about today is that practice marks the end of the day,no more classes, straight home.

I walk over to the crate and grab an ice-cold bottle of water, desperate to quench the burning thirst in my throat. I’m about to sit on the wooden bench when Drake appears at the locker room door, shirtless, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Toss me one!” he asks, pointing at the crate.

I grab the nearest bottle and throw it toward him. Drake makes a perfect catch in the air, twists the cap with ease, and in one fluid motion, tilts the bottle over his head, letting the cold water cascade down his dark hair, forehead, and defined chest.

I freeze completely, hypnotized. Rationally, I know he’s not doing it in slow motion, but in my head, every drop sliding down his tanned skin seems to take forever to fall. The world around me loses all sound until he opens his eyes, shakes his head like a wet dog, and brings the bottle to his lips, taking a long swig.

I quickly look away, my heart pounding in my throat. I take a generous gulp of my own water, but for a completely different reason. I desperately need to cool down from the inside.

I lower my head and adjust myself on the bench, mentally cursing my soccer shorts. The fabric is too thin, too light, and hides absolutely nothing. For purely physical reasons, I’m forced to stay exactly where I am for a few more long minutes.

“Aren’t you hitting the showers, man?” Drake asks, tossing the empty bottle straight into the trash.

“In a bit,” I reply, trying to keep my voice as casual as possible. “You can go ahead.”

“Cool. I’m dying from the heat, I need to wash off this sweat stink.”

I’m dying from the heat too, and all I wanted was to get under the cold water. The problem is that it’s physically impossible to stand up right now without making it blatantly obvious what effect he has on me,just by existing and drinking water in front of me.

I silently thank whoever designed this locker room with individual stalls. I don’t know if my self-control would survive having to see him completely naked in a communal shower without an even more obvious reaction.

I take another sip of water, trying to focus on anything else. The coach walks past me, clipboard under his arm, and gives me a pat on the back.

“Good practice today, Dickens. Keep that intensity up and the spot on the main team is yours for the next championship.”

“Thanks, coach. Will do,” I answer, forcing a grateful smile.

When I finally feel like things have calmed down and I can stand up, most of the guys are already coming out of the showers. I walk toward the shower area and, way in the back, spot the top of Drake’s wet hair sticking out from his stall. Even from behind, I’d recognize him anywhere. I quickly look away; from here I can only see his broad shoulders, and I decide it’s much better for my sanity to keep it that way.

Drake is an amazing guy. When I transferred here mid-semester, completely out of place, he was the first one to strike up a conversation and bring me into the group. My family had to move to this side of town because of my dad’s new job, and I ended up landing in this new school out of nowhere.

I’d had a few girlfriends at my old school and never hid from myself that I was also attracted to guys. But the truth is, I’ve never in my life felt so intensely attracted to someone as I do to him. The big problem is that my chances are zero: Drake not only dates the most popular and beautifu

l girl in the senior year, but he’s also become my best friend. And I can’t ruin that.

The cold water runs down my body, and I close my eyes for a few moments, letting it wash away all the fatigue and sweat from practice. The problem with closing my eyes is that the darkness becomes a blank screen. And on it, the only image that appears is that water dripping down Drake’s face, soaking his blond, straight hair, wetting those intense green eyes and that full, rosy mouth I’ve already imagined kissing so many times...

I don’t even want to think about how this fantasy is making me vulnerable again. Luckily, I’m facing the tiled wall, trying to focus on the water flowing down the drain and...

“Dude, I need your help!”

I flinch in surprise. I turn only my face slightly and see Drake staring at me. He’s leaning against the divider of my stall, which only goes up to my shoulders. I try to keep my body pressed against the wall so I don’t have to turn fully and reveal my current state.

“What?”

I ask, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

He just smiles,that knowing smile that always disarms me.