Chapter Thirty-One

The alphabets in my head

SAARANSH

 

The locker room door is a threshold I am not willing to cross, so I stand here and gawk. There is too much testosterone in the room for my liking. Half of them are without T-shirts, given away to the rival team after shutting out the Kairākau 31-10. If you are gay, a room full of hunks is a candy store.

In a room full of naked men, my eyes focus on one person. I stay at the door, afraid to enter. I won’t be able to keep my hands away from Brendon. The smell of his sweat mixed with the musk of his Deo makes one gay boy dizzy. Brendon put his game T-shirt on me. He is now dancing with his mates, prancing around with a bare chest, only those hip hugging shorts and no shoes or socks.

I dig my hand into the doorframe to firm up my grip, else I faint from admiring this man in my life, my man. There is this sudden urge to lick my lips. When did I fall for this guy? Not in the most usual circumstances. Normal people fall in love on romantic dates, at parties, or on beaches. I am not normal, falling for my teddy bear in a dimly lit graveyard fighting for our lives against a group of drunk criminals.

Couples do simple things together, go on dinner dates to restaurants, watch films, go shopping, or get matching tattoos. Those are too mundane things for us. We got injured together from our night stroll in London to seal our bond. Wait, he did get the matching peacock’s feather painted on his arm, even if it was only temporary. Guess we aren’t peculiar from the others.

A bump to my shoulder wakes my swoon-induced daze, scattering the winged hearts buzzing around my head. “You put Brendon up to this. It’s been a few years since he played so well. Not since the Tri-nations Cup two years ago.” The man in his late fifties, wearing the Greens jacket over a white shirt and grey pants, stares at me. He chugs his beer. “Thanks. If Brendon plays this well when you are around, I want you on the bench at our matches. A hat trick of tries is rare in rugby. Brendon demonstrated exceptional drive and effort tonight.” The man pats my shoulder and walks away.

When he stops next to Brendon, I realize he is the coach. He says something to Brendon, who turns and waves to me. I wave but don’t move. Brendon’s eyebrows furrow; he beckons me inside. I shake my head. No way am I stepping inside the ring of sweat, brawn, and drinks. Brendon walks over in three strides, grabs my hand, and drags me into a cacophony of whistles.

The din becomes louder when Brendon wraps his arm around my shoulder, raising a champagne bottle. “To my world champion.” His eyes twinkle in the light. Lust, happiness, and pride all together make those blue orbs shine brighter. Brendon crushes my mouth. My lips and cheeks crave the rub of his facial hair. His fingers send a flurry of tingles down from my head to the spine, a reminder of the first time he had me in his arms. Brendon douses me in the champagne from the bottle, but I am already soaking wet in his love.

The claps and whistles bring us out of our bubble. When I look around, everyone’s eyes are on Brendon and me. I bury my face in Brendon’s chest. I hold his hand and tangle our fingers, resting my nose in the nook of his neck. “I am not letting you go, Blue.”

“Mhm, I want you to stay, but I have a condition.”

I sneak a peek. Brendon raises his eyebrow, but his lips curve into a mischievous grin. Who am I to complain when the things in his mind will add to the pleasant memories for me?

“I get to cash in my birthday gift.” Brendon smirks.

“Huh, which gift?”

His squeezes my waist in his broad palm. “Oh, those cards,” I remember the present I sent him two months ago on his birthday. Crafted the set personally with pictures from our time in London and Yarra valley. Each photo served as a coupon. On the reverse were simple handwritten messages. ‘This coupon entitles you to one massage—Shy’s special.’ Or, ‘Loads of kisses await you.’ There were twelve pictures in total.

“Wait, did you receive them?” Brendon bites his lip. With a pout to express my displeasure I forgive him for never acknowledging. “Yes, you can. But only if they haven’t expired.” Brendon puts on his adorable pout. I rise on my toes to rub my lips against the full wet lips and wink. “As my favorite boyfriend, your offer stands extended to a lifetime.”

Brendon lowers his head and plants a sloppy wet kiss on my lips. “I will hold you to the offer.” How I missed his twang. He catches one of my locks on the forehead and whispers into my ear, “You better not have any other boyfriends.” Brendon’s nostrils flare.

The vulnerability in his eyes hits me hard. “There were none before and never will be.”

Brendon tilts my head up and leans in for another kiss. A soft peck on my nose. I grasp his head in my hands, lock my lips to his, and prod his mouth open with my tongue. Two wet meaty wrestlers grapple each other, caged between swollen and reddened lips. A few takedowns and reversals later, it does not matter whose tongue is on top. I shudder in his arms, and the words rise from every cell of my body. “Blue, thank you for giving me another chance.”

Brendon stares at me, searching my eyes before he bends his head and kisses me once more. “You are the one for me, Shy. My life is stuck on you. When I wake up in the morning, I want to watch the sun rays light up your face. I want the high fives and fist bumps when we whip other teams with our mates on trivia nights. After a tough game, I want to come home and rest in the warmth of your arms.”

His fingers caress my face. The thumbs rub circles on my cheekbones, holding the teardrops from falling from my eyes. He plants a soft kiss on my forehead, “Every day, I wish to sit with you and savor meals we cook together in our home. I picture us holding our child’s hand as they swing between us. My happy ever after is you, Shy. Will you grow old with me?”

Speechless. No words I string together can reciprocate the depth of what Brendon expressed. I do the next best thing. Hold his gaze and pour every tiny particle of love from my entire being into the liplock. I will my soul to flow out and become one with him through the kiss. I am his. Forever his.

“Oh, god. Will you two get a room? Enough show for the day.” James swats Brendon’s arm and pushes us to move out.

Brendon walks me to his locker. I follow him. My world falling into place. Rising on my toes, I whisper into Brendon’s ear. “So, are you going to help me do the practice for the Masters? The tournament is only a few weeks away.”

Brendon’s eyes dance around my body, “You bet, every minute starting tonight till you leave for China.” He opens his locker and pulls out a packet. He hands the wrapping to me with expectant eyes. “Open it.”

“Oh wow, a gift for me. What’s in it?” The plastic inside rustles when I pat the package covered in plain white paper. I rip off the cover to find two green t-shirts. One has Blue and 11 embroidered on the reverse; the other has Shy and 11. My eyes fill up. “When did you?” I search his face for answers. “But you did not know.” Or did the bugging B tattle? Wait till I swat her black and yellow when I meet her next.

“Hope.” Brendon rubs my chin with the tip of his finger. “And a prayer every day after your TV interview.”

All the words forming in my mind clump together, swelling with emotions, into one big ball which lodges in my throat. Brendon continues to stare at my face. Without any hesitation, I pull out the one with my name. The moment the t-shirt opens, my jaw locks in an ‘O’. This time I can’t keep the tears from falling. He pulls the T-shirt with his name and displays it for me. I jump him and squeeze tight. How did I ever let this man go?

“So, will you wear the jersey with me?” Brendon whispers while holding me tight.

“Yes, every day.”

“What about the other part?” Brendon releases me. The hope hiding behind fear in his gaze crushes my heart. I will never turn my back on this man again.

“Yes, Mr. Brendon Marsh. If you still want this fool, I am all yours. Forever.”

He hands me the t-shirt with my name and picks his. We pull them on. He turns as he straightens the hem to his waist. The t-shirt is stretched by his broad back displaying Blue and 11 in a big font in the center, with Mishra written in smaller font below 11.

Damn these tears; they keep clouding this moment. I grab Brendon from behind and pepper his neck with kisses. “How does mine look?” He picks his phone from the locker, turns me around, and takes a pic. The matching yellow fonts for Shy, 11, and Marsh are the most exquisite writing my eyes will ever see. “Are we going to be a cheesy couple?”

He rolls his eyes. “Ah! The food metaphors. My ears missed them.” He pulls me into his arms and winks. “But I am fond of cheese.”

I squeeze him tight and rest my head on his chest, inhaling his scent at peace. Those alphabets in my head make sense now, woven together into words by the rhythm of Brendon’s heartbeats. Belong-Love-Brendon. Wrapped in his arms, I am where I should be. Always meant to be. My destiny.

“You are my home, Blue.”