Page 2 of The Rival

I wasn’t eager to face the pressure from the guys anyways. They had no clue my preference swung towards men.

“Get out of here already,” I said, gesturing for them to take off. “And try not to get kicked out before I join you!”

My friends and teammates left, holding the league trophy over their heads like spoils of war. If the guys were already acting this rowdy, then Eastvale was in for a rough night once they were full of expensive drinks and hot wings.

Sparing a glance to the arena, the stands were already near empty. Eastvale’s side had cleared out quicker, and their own team was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t blame them for scattering like roaches.

On my way to the locker room, a few fans stopped me for a photo or to sign something. Our league’s games attracted a small, loyal following, especially among kids. It was nice being a star, even if it was temporary. After tonight’s game, I was officially the league’s best point guard and the team captain who had brought Westvale a much needed win. I was more than happy to bask in some long overdue glory.

When the crowd thinned at last, I headed deeper into the arena to find the locker rooms. To my surprise, for having the hottest new sporting complex in the county for their local high school, the Eastvale Eagles didn’t have two functioning locker rooms. The away team’s locker room was undergoing emergency renovations. Both teams had to share—a potentially dangerous idea considering how serious we all took the game.

Thankfully, none of the sore losers had stuck around to lick their wounds. I could only assume they wanted to be as far away from the court as possible. For Eastvale to lose by one point? That had to have stung. If my team had been in that position, I’d have stormed out of the stadium in half the time and made an ass of myself.

I found an empty locker to shove my duffle into temporarily, and that’s when I heard it: the sound of a shower turning on. I quietlypeaked around the corner of the lockers to see who had stuck around.

To my eternal dismay, none other than my biggest rival stood underneath the steamy spray, his back turned to me: Jason Alvarez, now thesecondbest point guard in our league who was also the shortest.

Jason had always been Eastvale’s golden goose, the kind of man who’d enjoyed success as a teen at this very school years ago and didn’t stop peaking ever since. His family had built their wealth over the course of several generations, and he was continuing down the same exact path. He owned a swanky restaurant in downtown Eastvale, the kind of place people from Westvale drove thirty minutes to so they could enjoy something chic and modern instead of the old school mom and pop places we had. Serving as the captain for one of the best teams was just another feather in his cap. He was used to success, to winning.

Except tonight’s game hadn’t gone according to his plan in the slightest. He was taking the loss hard, his whole body rigid, his hands curled into fists against the tile wall of the shower. With a competitive, type-A personality, Jason was likely analyzing every moment of the game, wondering how his team could have won had they played differently.

Some small (verysmall), empathetic bone in my body wanted to turn and leave, to give Jason the space he needed, forego showering, and head out to meet my teammates like I’d promised them I would.

Yet another pettier part wanted to stay and gloat, to shove myself into his space and make him see me for what I was—the better player, and most importantly, the better team captain.

I was driven by the same competitive spirit which drove Jason to play his heart out on the court. This was just another challenge from Jason, and I wasn’t going to back down.

So I undressed as quietly as possible and placed my clothes into the locker. I didn’t want him to realize I was here and spoil the surprise. Seeing the shock on his face would be as satisfying as our win.

Besides, I had no issue with showering with other guys before; this wasn’t the first bare ass I’d seen. Being in sports meant being used to a whole lotta skin on display. Even though I was gay, it didn’t mean my eyes wandered to just anyone. I had a type. I knew what I liked, even if I was too busy to date.

With my head held high, I walked into the showers with a bar of soap, stopping beside Jason, and turned on the shower head to his left.

“Oh, hey Jason,” I said, nodding my head and trying my best to smother my shit-eating grin with an air of class. “Good game earlier, huh?”

If Jason heard me over the water, he didn’t make it known. He kept leaning under the spray, letting the hot water wash over his bare, stiff body, ignoring my blatant taunt. Since Jason didn’t take the bait, I upped the ante.

“Do you have any advice on charities we should donate to this year?” I cupped my chin as if I was deep in thought. “I’m thinking the Westvale Children’s Hospital, but I’m open to suggestions.”

Still, Jason didn’t budge. He was the guy who always talked so much shit during the game. But now, when it was just the two of us? He was silent.

In an act of irritation, I began humming the Westvale High School anthem to myself while scrubbing my arms with my bar of soap, expecting Jason to snap at last and tell me to shut up and fuck off. Once I got a real rise out of him, I’d be able to gloat freely about Westvale’s victory.

But once again, Jason didn’t react, even as I hummed louder, more aggressively. He didn’t even turn his head to glare. He just kept looking at the water swirling down the drain. When the song came to an end, I let out a sigh.

Fine, so we’d shower in silence then.

Man, Jason wasboringwhen he was upset. Couldn’t the guy lighten up? I didn’t shut down after last year’s loss. I went to work the following Monday without acting like a baby. He needed to man up and learn to take a loss in stride. When the roles had been reversed last year, Jason had acted like a tool and paraded the trophy around the arena for all his adoring fans. The Westvale Wildcats hadn’t stooped to pouting. We were dignified in defeat, leaving the gym in silence.

Idling under the spray for so long, I grew restless. I needed to get as far away from Jason Alvarez and his piss poor, Debbie-Downer attitude. His moping was bringingmedown, and I had won the game.

Yet in my haste, I made a critical mistake.

While washing my chest, I lost my grip on my soap. It was almost cinematic how slow the bar swan dived through the air. For all my skills with a ball on the court, I was butterfingers, fumbling and scrambling, unable to grab a simple bar of soap.

When time caught up, the soap crashed down to the tile floor with a pathetic anticlimactic splash.

A tense beat passed. I glanced over at Jason, and his attention was on the bar. Of all the things to pique his interest since I’d stepped into the shower, of course it would be this slipup. Jason noticed my hesitation in picking it up, the smug prick, and let out a soft chuckle. Annoyed, I knelt down to retrieve it.

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