They’re laughing and joking, Jackson’s clapping his hands on Kian’s shoulders as he tells him the coffee’s his shout.
Jackson’s dark brown curls are so slick with sweat that they almost look black and Kian’s flushed in the face. They’re in full workout gear, so they’ve clearly been for a run, but for a second my mind drifts to another activity that would leave the pair sweaty and panting. All of a sudden, I’m feeling growly. I put it down to lingering tension with Johannes after he abandoned me for some no-name guy that he refuses to talk about. Even though I’m usually able to shrug these things off. Did I want to shag Kian that night? Yeah, I did. But it’s not like I’ve been obsessing over why he freaked out so much just when we were getting to the good stuff. He’s got a stick up his ass, and though I know he’d have more fun with my dick up there instead, that’s his issue, not mine. I’ve barely given it any thought. I really haven’t.
But as I look at him with Jackson and see how easy and relaxed he seems, I’m actually kind of pissed off. Why does he save the worst of his personality for me? I thought Kian didn’t do this. I thought he didn’t do hook-ups. To my knowledge, he hasn’t shagged anyone all season – male or female. So why’s he suddenly all over Jackson like a rash? He doesn’t even seem to be friends with many people on the circuit, outside of Cole. Yes, he’sfriendlywith everyone, but there’s a difference between that and friendship.
‘Hello? Earth to Harper.’ Johannes waves his hand in front of my face, wrenching my attention from Jackson’s arm which is casually slung around Kian’s shoulder as they order their drinks.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, my eyes quickly flitting back to the pair to check whether Jackson’s touch stays careless rather than possessive.
‘That’s a little weird, huh?’ Johannes sounds almost as bothered as I am, though I’m probably imagining it because I want everyone to share my frustration with Kian so I don’t feel like a twat.
‘Didn’t know they were so friendly. Looks cosy.’
Johannes looks questioningly at me. I find I can’t meet his gaze.
‘Very. Any chance there could be something going on there?’
I’m not about to out Kian. I know he said he doesn’t care if people know if he’s bi, but it’s not my place to say anything. If he wants Johannes to know he’ll tell him, or tell the world. I also don’t think I could say it in a way that wouldn’t betray my interest.
I watch them, listening to the sounds of the coffee machine, but when they take their drinks, the cups aren’t to-go. And then suddenly they’re walking towards our table.
‘Oh, shit,’ I mumble under my breath. ‘Incoming.’
‘Hey, Harper,’ Jackson says cheerily. Time to fake it till I make it, I really can’t afford to be on the bad side of the principal’s son.
‘Jackson, hey man. How’s it going?’
‘Not too bad, mate. This guy, though –’ he jostles Kian’s shoulder for good measure, just in case I don’t know who he’s talking about ‘– has me run ragged. A 6am swim and then an afternoon run! Does he ever stop?’
‘Well, you know Kian. Dedication is his middle name.’ Everyone laughs though it feels a little artificial.
‘Sorry, not that he needs introducing considering you wrote so many blog posts about his performance last year, but this is my best friend – Johannes Muller.’
‘Sure, sure,’ Jackson says, offering Johannes his hand to shake.
I can tell that Johannes isn’t thrilled – Jackson might have called Johannes’s season last year ‘sub-par’ in his podcast – but he takes the proffered hand anyway. And being the polite guy he is, Johannes asks how Jackson is enjoying Canada, and this launches into a conversation about Jackson’s study abroad year here.
Kian doesn’t contribute, just calmly sips his coffee as though there’s nowhere he’d rather be. I look up at him and try to catch his eye but he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge my presence.
I watch a bead of sweat run down the side of his face, past his ear and over the edge of his jaw. I observe its progress as it clings to his neck and then disappears beneath the neckline of his running vest. I’m well aware of what his chest looks like and I take a moment to imagine tracing the progress of that droplet all the way down his body.
I have to shift in my seat to hide what this little daydream is doing to me, and when I look up again at Kian’s face, I catch the briefest flicker of an expression that tells me he’s just as aware of me as I am of him.
Gotcha.
I can’t help but smirk.
And then Kian’s interrupting to make his excuses. Of course he is. ‘While this has been lovely,’ he says, ‘I need to get back to FaceTime my sister.’
He takes their empty cups back to the counter and then they’re off. Together.
‘See you guys later,’ Jackson tosses over his shoulder as he exits the café.
‘Well that was awkward,’ I say once Jackson and Kian are out of earshot.
‘All good, mate, all good,’ Johannes replies, but his right eye twitches, and if I know anything about him it’s a sure sign that he’s lying.
‘He’s just some stupid sportscaster. Don’t let him get to you.’
