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Alfred was a winner. And winners never quit before they tried.
He repeated that mantra over and over. I am a winner. I am a winner. I am—“going to be sick,” Alfred whispered, stopping in his tracks and leaning against the wall, hands on his knees. He got nauseous when he was anxious, and he was very anxious tonight. He stared down at his sports shoes. He was still in his basketball uniform. His red jersey and shorts, with Number 19 and Jones printed on the back. He was all gross and sweaty, and he knew he ought to at least shower and change first, but he had a feeling he was going to chicken out if he was left to overthink this.
His team was probably celebrating in the locker room right about now. It had been a tense game. They’d won 85-80, and there’d been a couple of times Alfred was sure they were going to screw it up. And he had to win, so he pushed himself. He wasn’t the team captain—he wasn’t even the best player on the team—but he’d been urging the others to train harder too. Maybe it was selfish. But he had a promise to keep. To himself.
If we win this game, I’ll ask Tolys out.
Tolys was the rival team’s captain. Alfred had gone up against him on four separate occasions, and each time, Tolys had kicked his ass. He was a gifter basketballer, he could go pro, and Alfred envied and respected his raw talent. What was more, Alfred found him fascinating. Tolys was quiet off the court, almost aloof, and unbearably beautiful. He had this shiny brown hair that reminded Alfred of hazelnuts, and Alfred often fantasised about running his hands through it.
He hadn’t been an athlete before the start of this school year. Sure, he and Matt would ice skate in the winter or play basketball in the public court in their neighbourhood, but it wasn’t the same thing as being an athlete. He wasn’t even on any school teams. But that changed when he met Tolys. Everything had changed. Alfred did not have a bad life, but he did not have an interesting one. Their family was, like most families in the area, working class and always stressed for money. They didn’t have fancy vacations or new clothes every year. Most of the things they owned had been thrifted, and there were days when it was hard to forget how restrictive life could be. But meeting Tolys changed all that. Not materially, of course. But life became more bearable.
However, while Alfred considered himself a smooth-talker, he got tongue-tied around his crushes. It was awful. It was one thing if they were snarking at each other on the court. That was a friendly rivalry. But off the court, in real life, Alfred dreaded running into Tolys. He never knew what to say.
Anyway, he’d told himself that he’d ask Tolys out if he won the game, partially because it felt like such a long shot, and partially because he needed to give himself an ultimatum.
Alfred peeled himself off the wall. Okay. He could do this. He had to do this.
Before Alfred could prepare himself any more, a familiar figure strode out of the locker room. Ivan, followed by Eduard, Ravais, and Feliks—and behind them, Tolys. They strode past Alfred, barely looking at him. Ivan, in particular, seemed none too pleased with the loss.
“Tolys. Wait,” Alfred said before he could chicken out. Tolys stopped, raising a silent, judgemental eyebrow.
The others stopped too.
“Can we talk for a sec?”
Tolys seemed to deliberate, a flash of hesitation crossing his green eyes. But then he nodded, and said to his teammates, “Go ahead, guys.”
They paused, momentarily unsure, but then Ivan said, “Okay,” and led the others out.
At last, they were alone. Tolys turned back to Alfred, that eyebrow raised again. “What is it?”
Now was the moment. Alfred steeled his resolve. “That was a great game. You really had me on my toes.”
Maybe Alfred should have done this after a shower. He reeked of sweat and old sneakers. Tolys, his hair damp and smelling of lemon shampoo, was wearing a smart leather jacket over his jeans. He just looked so cool.
“Well, you won,” Tolys pointed out. “But yeah, great game. Congrats again.”
They began casually walking, down the corridor plastered with photographs of old high school coaches. “I wanted to ask you something.” Alfred exhaled softly. “I was wondering if I can…uh, buy you coffee.”
The first time Alfred saw Tolys, it wasn’t during a game, but on a Sunday afternoon in the summer. Most of the neighbourhood was asleep. Alfred had stepped outside. He and Matthew had gotten into an argument. Matthew had been stressing about applying for colleges in the coming year, and he’d snapped at Alfred when Alfred told him to chill. Unlike you, I’m not irresponsible, he’d muttered, and Alfred decided he wasn’t going to let that go. He couldn’t understand Matthew’s stress. It was just the summer. They still had a whole year to figure out college and grades. Why was Matthew so insistent on growing up?
Anyway, Alfred had needed some time to cool off after that spat, so he figured he could go for a run or something and burn away the excess energy.
He saw Tolys on the neighbourhood basketball court. In shorts and an oversized tee, dribbling the ball, shooting it into the net, all by himself. Alfred had slowed to a jog, then he stopped, staring at Tolys from across the street. His height. His form. The way the sunlight danced in his eyes, chlorophyll green and shining gold.
Before he could stop himself he was crossing over. Tolys glanced up as he approached. “Hi,” Alfred had said, grinning. “Are you new here?”
“My family moved in last week,” he answered. “I’m Tolys. You are?”
“Alfred,” said Alfred. “Can I join you?”
“Oh.” Tolys glanced down at the ball, bouncing between the ground and his palm. “Sure, I guess.”
Tolys kept dancing around Alfred, dribbling the ball away at the last second and shooting it into the basket every time. He was exceptional. Alfred got a couple of shots in, but there was no contest who was the better player.
“Are you going to play in school?” Alfred asked when they stopped for air.
Tolys wiped some sweat off his brow. “Maybe. Are you on a school team?”
“Nah. I just play with my brother sometimes. He’s got the height for it, but he likes hockey more. Can’t afford to play it though. The equipment costs a fortune. So we just shoot hoops sometimes.”
“You should try out for a school team,” Tolys had said. “You’re not half bad.”
Alfred beamed. “Really? Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll even see you there!”
Summer ended, and they wound up in different schools. But at least they kept running into each other on the court.
“You…what?” Tolys asked now, his eyes widening at the question. “You want to buy me a coffee?”
“You can say no,” Alfred backtracked. “I totally get it, if you’re not into guys or whatever, just…ignore me. I’ll go.” He whirled around so fast he nearly saw stars, but before he could sprint off, a hand clasped his wrist. Tolys. His palm had calluses. Alfred was suddenly very aware of his pulse.
“Wait, Alfred.” Tolys was staring at him with eyebrows raised. He let go slowly, and then turned his head to the other side of the corridor, towards the direction of the court. “...Do you…do you want to have a game?”
“We just had a game. And my team won.”
“Riiight,” Tolys laughed, already pulling off his leather jacket. “How about this, play a make-up game with me now and I’ll think about that coffee.”
Their basketball shoes squeaked against the floor as they stepped onto the court. Tolys dribbled the ball. He threw it towards the basket, but missed. Alfred got it as it tumbled to the floor.
“You’ve gotten better,” Tolys praised.
“I’ve been learning from the best.”
“Yeah, your coach is good.”
“I meant you , stupid,” Alfred laughed. The ball arced through the air, hit the board, and fell into the net easily. “One-zero.”
“Not so fast,” Tolys responded with an easy shot, bringing them to a tie. “Why do you want to get coffee with me, anyway? I would have figured you’d pick someone else from the team. Like Ivan? You two have some tension.”
“That’s because Ivan’s hard to play against! Once he gets the ball he never gives it up! He’s good, don’t get me wrong, but—”
BANG. The ball hit the board again, so loud that it reverberated across the room, and echoed over the empty seats. It fell into the net, giving Alfred another point. The ball bounced to the far side of the court. Alfred ran after it. Behind him, he heard Tolys murmur, “Whoa. Nice shot.”
“It’s because I like you.” Alfred whirled around. He stood there, the ball in his hands, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. Tolys was so pretty, and he wouldn’t look away. “I…really like you. I think I’ve had a crush on you from the first moment we met. That day I went home and I told Mattie that I met the cutest boy. I mean…like, let’s be honest, you’re the reason I even signed up for basketball tryouts when school reopened. I know that sounds pathetic,” Alfred mumbled, “but you’re an amazing player. And I guess…” and I guess you made an impression on me. But Alfred couldn’t verbalise that. So instead, he just threw the ball to Tolys. It cut through the tension and landed straight in his large hands.
Tolys remained silent for a moment that seemed to stretch on for several lonely years.
Then he threw the ball right back at Alfred. “If you really like me that much, you won’t let me have an easy victory.”
Alfred felt like he was lighting up from the inside. As though Christmas had come early. He loved that about Tolys. The way they could just play. The freedom to do that was ever-vanishing. With each passing year, Alfred was expected to grow up a bit more, to be a man, to transform into an adult. And it always felt so joyless. He was just seventeen. And here, with Tolys, on a court, they could be seventeen, just kids. Friends. Maybe more.
“It’s on. Prepare to lose to me a second time!”
This was so fun. Fun. Simple, uncomplicated, stress-free fun. Tolys stole the ball from Alfred, Alfred stole it back. They both tried to score. Tolys got a point, then another, but Alfred put him in his place soon enough. They were both getting a little tired by then. They’d already played one game just before this, and Alfred was decidedly hungry.
That was when Tolys got the upper hand. “Last shot of the night?” he taunted as the basketball went flying through the air from the far side of the court and fell through the hoop in a single, glorious moment of clarity. Alfred burst out laughing, breathless as he was, and collapsed, his hands on his knees.
“Okay, okay, you win,” he conceded.
“Man, you stink,” Tolys snorted, and took a whiff of his own new shirt, which had become sweaty yet again from the game. “Tell you what, Alfred, let’s freshen up and I’ll meet you outside the school gate. You owe me a flat white.”
“A flat white?” Alfred sneered, but in a way that he hoped conveyed his amusement. “Come on, Tolys, tsk-tsk-tsk, that’s so basic of you.” They began walking towards the changing rooms. “I’ll get something chic, of course,” Alfred continued. “The pumpkin spice latte.”
“Sure, that’s not basic at all. Are we gonna trash talk through this date?”
Alfred froze. A date. Right. He was going on an actual date with Tolys. And he didn’t feel nervous anymore. He broke into an easy smile, shrugging off the last dregs of his anxiety. There were many things to be stressed about: college applications, exams, the future. But a coffee with Tolys would be the most comfortable thing in the world.
“We’re good at trash-talking.”
Tolys was smirking at him. “That’s not all your mouth can do, right?”
Alfred bit down an idiotic grin. “See you out front in twenty minutes.”
What did the future hold? Alfred didn’t even want to think about it, some days. All these uncertainties about work and life and whether he would succeed…they often overwhelmed him. But as Tolys stepped out of the school gates, both in fresh clothes and damp hair, Alfred allowed himself to smile…and to let all those worries go. “So, PSL, what say we take my car?” Tolys joked, their shoulders brushing as they walked together.
“Let’s do it, Flat White.”
Tolys took Alfred’s hand in his own. Callused and perfect. He pulled Alfred towards the beat-up old sedan, and Alfred went along with him, feeling so free, this moment was like flying.