Aiden expended a great deal of effort in not being too physically aware of Harvard. On a certain level. Aiden was very physically comfortable with Harvard on another level. They’d grown up together. They used to take naps, sharing the same mat or the same bed, holding hands with Harvard Paw cozily tucked between them. Even at Kings Row, their beds were pushed close together and they watched movies with Aiden kicking Harvard in the calf or Harvard’s shoulder pressed up against his. It wasn’t so different from the naps. It was all about context and keeping Aiden’s life arranged in the correct categories: what was important, namely Harvard, and then—strictly separated—everything else.
Now everything was a mess.
There was a distinct lack of strict separation in the warm fact of Harvard in his arms. Harvard, open shirt collar blazing white against his glowing dark skin. Aiden was as close as the shadow of Harvard’s collar against his skin. Harvard was looking up at Aiden, gaze calm and steady. Harvard, broad-shouldered and built for football as well as fencing, was actually too heavy for Aiden, but Aiden wasn’t letting him go.
There was only one way to express the outrage Aiden was currently feeling about the universe.
Softly, because he hated even saying it, Aiden said, “You could’ve been hurt.”
“Nah,” replied Harvard. “This went great. All according to plan.”
Aiden wasn’t used to Harvard being spectacularly wrong. “This went—how did this go—”
“I fell because I knew one of my teammates would catch me,” Harvard explained. He was still smiling. “One of my teammates did.”
They heard the sound of Coach’s authoritative step moving from mat to floor, coming toward them. Aiden’s arms tightened around Harvard.
Harvard patted Aiden’s arm. “Thanks, buddy. Now let me go. Gotta captain.”
With no choice in the matter, Aiden did. Harvard climbed to his feet without a backward glance and went into a huddle with the coach from which the words “could’ve gone better…” were heard. Aiden, head reeling and utterly bewildered, found refuge in rage.
“You miscreant idiot freshmen,” he began in scathing tones.
“I’m not a freshman—” said Eugene.
Aiden pointed at him accusingly. “Which is why you’re the worst of all! You should know better!”
A throat was cleared behind him.
“Aiden,” said Coach Williams, “is right.”
A thunderstruck silence followed. Coach had never said anything like that before. Even Aiden found it tough to handle.
Coach Williams prowled forward as she continued: “It pains me to say this, but you guys put on the worst display of team bonding I’ve ever seen in my life. Maybe the worst display of team bonding since the Stone Age, when the weakest person on the team would have their skull harvested to play the next game with.”
Aiden laughed.
Nicholas asked, “Did that actually happen, Coach?”
Coach pointed to a sign on the wall that read Did that actually happen, Coach? She made an encouraging gesture and Nicholas glumly began to run suicides.
“You all seem determined to prove yourselves extraordinarily bad at teamwork,” Coach continued relentlessly.
“Is Seiji the worst?” Nicholas called as he ran by.
“I can do better!” exclaimed Seiji.
Eugene had draped himself on Harvard and was practically weeping. Only the word bropology could be distinguished. Harvard patted Eugene on the back.
“You have to try harder. Take meals together. Sit beside one another. Learn to care if your teammates are in trouble. It is quite rare for there to be a situation in which not only is someone not caught during trust falls, but chaos ensues in which he could be physically harmed! Harvard came close to falling on the wooden floor and could easily have sustained a concussion. Aiden is the only one who was there for his teammate. He showed you all up. Aiden.”
The way Coach said his name suggested she’d observed a great white shark saving a drowning swimmer. Aiden was beginning to feel personally offended. He felt even more offended when Seiji hung his head in shame.
Nicholas tried to argue, panting as he ran by: “Yeah, but Aiden wouldn’t have tried to save anybody else, so it’s not like he really cares about the team—”
“Are you suggesting that I’m biased? I’m totally impartial. It’s not my fault Harvard is awesome and the rest of you suck!” Aiden snapped.
Scholarship Nicholas gave Aiden a vacant stare, then continued running. Aiden considered tripping him.
“You’ve forced my hand,” announced Coach. “I can’t make empty threats or I’ll lose your respect as a coach, and more important, your fear. Tomorrow night I’m sending you out to run suicides through the woods. With raw steak around your necks.”
Amazingly, the freshmen and Eugene seemed to be taking her seriously.
Eugene whimpered. “What if we get eaten by bears?”
“I may have mentioned that our team is in the uniquely fortunate position of having two reserves!” Coach said brightly. “I can spare at least one of you.”
Maybe this day wasn’t turning out so badly, after all. Aiden snickered. He could still feel a ghost of warmth in his arms, but—whatever. He was a world-class champion at compartmentalizing. He had a date tomorrow night, he was pretty sure. With someone hot, no doubt. He could have a date tonight, if he wanted. Everything was fine.
Aiden could’ve mentioned to the idiot freshmen that the manicured woods around Kings Row were conspicuous for cottontail rabbits and columbine, not bears. But why would he do a silly thing like that? This was hilarious. They deserved everything they got, especially Eugene.
“Fortunately for you guys,” Coach announced, “I have, my sister tells me, no life… and that means I have no plans Friday evening! I’ll be supervising your run through the woods. I plan to stand at a safe distance and note your cries of distress with interest. You accompanying me, Captain?”
“Can’t make it, Coach,” Harvard told her cheerfully. “Got a date.”
The sky outside the windows went dark. There was a sudden sour taste in Aiden’s mouth.
Coach whistled. “Good for you, Harvard!”
It was Aiden’s firm opinion that the teaching staff should not be involved in or even aware of their students’ love lives. This was inappropriate. Coach should be ashamed.
“Oh cool,” said Worst Freshman Nicholas, though he looked startled, as though a date was a foreign concept to him. “Hope you have a great time, Captain.”
Freshmen should not interfere with unsolicited opinions about the private lives of upperclassmen. Aiden didn’t know why he was the only person left at Kings Row who knew the basic rules of social interaction.
“Thanks.” Harvard smiled as if he thought Bad Haircut Nicholas was adorable. “I hope so, too.”
Aiden hoped an unexpected hurricane would hit. A hurricane would keep everyone indoors, and Harvard safe at home.
Failing a hurricane, he hoped those freshmen would be eaten by bears.
Aiden turned away and arranged himself a date with lucky Mr. Right There When Aiden Stumbled Out of the Gym.
On his date that night, he had a totally fine time. He’d have a good time tomorrow night, too, he told himself. And every night after that.