Chapter Text
When I joined the team, I thought rugby would straighten me out- sweat it out, beat it out, bury it somewhere under bruises and mud. I never planned to feel anything on the field except pain and pride, but then he passed me the ball, and everything cracked.
I never pinned Melodius van Rensburg as a rugby boy. Even his name runs parallel to his infatuation with music. The ear splitting opera I can't stand, which he so loves. The way he moves almost as if he has an orchestra serenading him through the monotonous school hallways. His gentle, honeyed voice, unlike the rest of our team's obnoxious, cocky shouts. His entire character is begging to be bullied, but somehow he charms everybody with his alluring smirk and deep blue eyes.
…
“Hiding from me, Lerron? You’re gonna make us late to rugby.” Melodius jokes as he grabs me by the arm, I suppress a shiver as his rough fingers caress my skin.
I actually am hiding from him and writing sappy poetry in a notebook, like a bloody 12-year-old girl with a crush. Except I don’t have a crush. Not on Melodius, anyway. I swear I don’t have anything against… all that, but it's not for me. Rugby players don’t think like that. Especially not the all star center who makes panties drop wherever he plays.
I shake the thought of Melodius in his criminally tight rugby shorts as he punches me in the shoulder.
“Oh, I see how it is,” he smirks, “so tell me. Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Huh”
“I’m not blind, Lerron. You’re head over heels, besotted, infatuated. Why else would you be hiding behind lockers from your best friend?”
I chuckle at his conspiracy. That’s Melodius for you, always conspiring, always finding the poetry in my actions.
“Oh fuck off, van Rensburg!”
“No need to get defensive, unless she’s in primary school, then I’m gonna judge. It’s about time somebody wears your jersey in the audience.”
His sapphire eyes bore into mine with something more than his usual tease- almost half upset, could it be jealousy? No. No, I'm hallucinating. Surely, I am.
Even if it was, what do I care? I’m straight as a line, and so is he.
He helps me up from the cold floor, where I'm sitting like a demented idiot. We jog in silence to the changing room, we’re the last ones there.
I keep my eyes from wandering as he strips and changes into his rugby clothes. The thin fabric of his rugby shirt clings to his broad shoulders and hugs his biceps perfectly, leaving his veiny forearms exposed and so enticing.
We walk into practice a couple minutes late. Coach Bolton, while being the most supportive and talented coach out there, does not tolerate latecomers- especially not mere weeks before our biggest league match in Midstream history.
His voice is cold with frustration as he reprimands us.
“Were you two fucking in the changing room? There’s no reason for you to be late- especially not you, Lerron. The team is counting on you both, the entire school is counting on you! Go join your team, this better be the last time!”
We jog to the center line to meet the rest of our team. I shake hands with Ruben as the guys joke about Coach's intensity. As I laugh along, I feel Melodius’ intense gaze watching me- studying me. I try to block it out, I’m not falling for whatever intimidation tactic he’s trying.