18.

"Are they not nice to you?"

Mom's voice on the other side of the line sounded worried, while I buried a hand in my hair at the way my simple question regarding houses backfired.

"No, no!" I quickly replied. "They're nice to me. Don't worry. I was just wonderin' if you'd already found a house. No other motives."

"Oh." Mom still sounded suspicious. "Does it perhaps feel like you're intrudin' a little on Chiara and Paul?"

That sounded like a good explanation which didn't blame anyone.

"Yes!" I lied. "That's exactly it. And I'd, uh, just like us livin' together. Y'know, at a more permanent place to stay. Oh gotta go! Love you mom."

I ended the call just in time before Dad stepped into the driver's seat of the car. Atticus had been sitting next to me in the back and heard the conversation, but that was fine. He wanted me out of Chiara and Dad's house just as much as I wanted to leave.

Dad glanced at me. "You sure 'bout this?" he asked. "Football bootcamp's not a walk in the park. Only goin' one day instead of two may be better."

No, Dad. Zero days would likely be best, I thought. "Oh, no, I'm sure," I said. "Football for two days? This'll really whip me into shape. Can't wait!"

I couldn't wait for the free evening program, that was. I was not particularly looking forward to the morning or afternoon, especially not when we arrived at the bootcamp grounds and only varsity jocks and a few very ambitious guys from my team were there.

Fun for all levels, as the bootcamp pamphlet promised, was a big fat lie.

The lie was almost as fat as I felt compared to all these super ripped jocks. Okay, I was a little chubby or a bit soft at most compared to the average guy, but everyone here was just so in shape. I was a ploughing donkey, while everyone around me was an Arabian racehorse. Nobody except me needed a break between exercises.

When the scruffy, hard-eyed trainer called Mark wanted us to cross the field hopping on one leg again, I decided it was a perfect moment to take a water break and then get lost for at least fifteen minutes on the way back.

That was the plan, anyway. Karma must've heard me planning on slacking off, and decided to be instant.

With sweat stinging in my eyes, I hopped far behind the rest of the guys across the field for one last time. I never did see that hole in the grass coming.

One second I was hopping and hating life, the next I was down in the grass still hating life but with an added sharp pain in my ankle.

Mark's eyes all but disappeared behind his bushy, thick eyebrows as he observed my ankle and bent it different ways. I bit my lip at the pain, while Atticus glared at Mark because he was not being careful enough.

"It's not broken," Mark concluded after a few more excruciating movements. "Sprained. Put some ice on it and give it rest."

"I'll take him to the cottage," Atticus immediately volunteered, to which Mark curtly nodded.

"Sorry man, this sucks," Corey said, while Atticus hoisted me up carefully. "And so early on the day, too."

"Well, I'm not escaping the hoppin' exercise - looks like I'll be doin' one legged hops all day for a while," I joked, while Atticus put his arm around me to support me.

The hopping was terrible. Having Atticus so close to me was great. His arm felt hard and strong around me, and seemed to be a potent painkiller. Almost enough to not make me notice the pain in my ankle.

I glanced up at Atticus but quickly changed my mind and averted my gaze to the large cottage ahead.

Atticus looked fresh with a healthy glow, while my hair was sticking to my forehead and I felt I had a sweat-droplet moustache above my lip. We weren't exactly at the point in our 'relationship' where I'd allow him to see me look bad.

"Since Dad isn't comin' until tomorrow," I said, casually wiping the sweatstache away with my free hand. "I might as well stay the night here anyway."

"Okay." Atticus chuckled. It sounded a bit nervous and because of that, very cute. I enjoyed watching his eyes dart around the cottage living room, and him quickly changing the subject.

"I'll take your stuff to the one person room closest to the bathroom and living room so you don't have to walk so far. And some ice."

Atticus gently put me down on the couch, and I watched him disappear into the kitchen while taking off my shoe and sock.

He returned a few seconds later with an icepack. Much to my surprise, instead of handing it over he sat on the floor in front of me and tenderly pressed the ice against my ankle himself with a concentrated frown.

I was pretty sure he didn't even realise he was doing it, and I wasn't about to ruin it by saying anything.

He must've felt my wide, beaming grin fixated on his face however, because when he looked up at me his eyes went wide.

"You can do that yourself, of course," he hastily mumbled, pushing the icepack in my hand.

"Sure, but I was enjoyin' your tender care," I teased him, pressing the icepack to my ankle myself.

The word tender made Atticus' cheeks at least three shades darker, and that just made me want to tease him more.

"Could've warned me football bootcamp was this intense, though. I guess I'll let it slide if you nurse me the rest of the night, too."

Atticus' embarrassed facial expressions at being teased were even better than the ones he made when he was being complimented.

"Yeah, they're more strict this year and... you don't really enjoy football, do you?" Atticus asked carefully, like he was afraid he'd somehow offend me.

I didn't mean for him to take my remark seriously, but now that he did, I matched his tone.

"Not really, honestly. I was lookin' for some exercise and I guess a way to bond with Dad. I just felt that I, as the coach Turner's son, was ought to be on a football team, you know." I snorted. "Not that it's workin' that well."

"He's always very busy with the varsity team," Atticus said, his gaze resting on my injured ankle. "Sorry."

"Eh, it's not your fault I'm not athletically gifted enough to be on the varsity team. Or to even hop across a field, apparently."

"Yeah..." Atticus replied. His eyebrows creased. I'd come to recognise it as his thinking face. I gave him a moment to decide whether he wanted to say his thoughts out loud, and eventually he did.

"I wanted to take you out tonight, but your ankle needs rest," he said. "Would it be alright if I came to your room?"

I couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping my mouth. "Is that what you were hesitatin' to ask? Of course that's alright!"

Atticus' flush deepened. "Just making sure. It's different than taking you out."

"Really? How is it different?" I teased Atticus.

Obviously, sitting in a bedroom didn't have the same energy as going out to drink coffee together and Atticus was right in the gutter with me. He opened and closed his mouth, helplessly. I could almost see his mind flailing and decided to help him out with a grin.

"Thanks for gettin' me a room near the bathroom, and a private one, too, anyway. That's very nice of you."

"It's a very nice room, yeah," Atticus murmured.

He was shy when I teased him, but the look in his eyes made me feel a lot less bad about it. We held each other's gaze. If we were up in our attic at home right now and not in a living room where anyone could walk in at any moment, we'd be making out.

I bit my lip. "Okay, we need to stop right now. Else you're not returnin' to the football field at all."

For a moment, it seemed Atticus was going to say 'screw it.' I distinctly noticed his gaze flickering down to my lips. But finally, he nodded and stood.

He was a varsity jock through and through. Much more dedicated to the sport than I was. I watched him go both regretful and admiring him and his backside.

We didn't see each other again until lunch a couple hours later.

Atticus and all the other hungry jocks came pouring into the cottage, stalling out plates, cups, bread and everything else needed for lunch with  the same kind of efficiency, coordination and speed they had on the field.

Today I had the perfect excuse not to help, and even get a plate handed to me by a particularly helpful Corey.

"How's your ankle doing?" he asked.

I experimentally moved it and nearly winced at the sharp pain. Despite the ice, a bump the size of an egg had grown on the side. "I think it's gonna be a while before I can practice again. But hey, I ain't a varsity jock anyway, it's alright."

"Yeah, we noticed." A guy who I believed wasn't from Pinewood (I had never seen him before) snorted. "Are you here to check out the guys?"

"Hey," Corey warned him. From the corner of my eye, I also saw Atticus who was putting cups on the table freeze and turn to listen in on the conversation.

"Nah, it's cool man." The guy put up his hands in defence.  "We don't judge."

There was an unpleasant smirk playing on his lips, however. The type I'd seen a thousand times back at home and definitely spoke of judgement, and possibly having to avoid him in locker rooms because he was the type to beat you up and act nice while he lied to teachers later. I didn't know how the news I was gay had reached a guy from another school, but somehow it had.

I didn't like how he sat next to me, resting his elbow on the armrest. "No, really. Atticus is gay, too. It's fine."

Atticus jaw clenched, but the guy had already turned back to me. "Is he your type?"

My first impression had been correct. He was judgemental and he was trying to piss me off. Answering would be pointless. I wouldn't take the bait and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"Dude, no way. That's his fucking stepbrother," Corey answered for me, laughing.

"Yeah, back off," another varsity jock from Pinewood who I vaguely recognised but didn't know the name of added. "That's like incest."

Corey wrinkled his nose. "Ew!"

I cringed and so did Atticus, while some of the other jocks chuckled at the remark.

The conversation quickly moved on to the next topic, but during the entire lunch Atticus' cheeks remained red in shame. Shit.

I couldn't say anything to reassure him however. Not with everyone there listening in. I could only hope he'd still show up in my room tonight.