Page 34 of Playing for Keeps
“Thanks.” The frown line on Luke’s forehead grew deeper.
Shit. Looked like it was time for an Ethan intervention.
I wandered over, casually stationing myself next to Luke as he pulled on the Marauders shirt and I bent down to lace up my rugby boots. Ali approached, so I straightened up and stepped toward him before he could reach Luke.
“Hey, did I show you my new victory dance? I reckon we should do it as a team every time we score a try.”
Ali raised an eyebrow. “Let’s see it then.”
Okay, so now I had to make up a victory dance on the spot. Luckily I had quite a repertoire of dance moves in my arsenal.
I thought my blend of Michael Jackson’s moonwalk and the Carlton was pretty inspired, actually. I had no idea why the rest of the team fell about laughing.
“Fuck, Lewis, are you trying to become a meme?” Reuban chuckled.
“If you guys are too heathen to appreciate my incredible choreography, that’s not my fault.”
“Promise me you’ll never ever pull that move at a club if you want to get laid,” Ali said.
The guys continued to hassle my dance moves but I shrugged it off. It didn’t matter that I’d just become the team’s laughing stock. The most important thing was that I’d helped Luke. I glanced at Luke, who was double checking the lacing of his boots. His expression seemed slightly less tight.
Coach came in for his pre-game spiel, and then it was time to run onto the field.
“Good luck.” I held my hand out to Luke for a fist bump. It had been our ritual growing up, fist bumping right before every game. I couldn’t even remember when we’d started doing it.
Luke looked down at my hand uncomprehendingly. Shit. Had he forgotten what we used to do?
But then he gave a half smile and bumped my fist back. “You too.”
Alfie was starting as halfback, so I took my usual place on the bench.
The game started messy, both sides trying to settle in and find some kind of rhythm. It was always hard at the start of the season with new guys introduced into the lineup, trying to work out how to gel as a team.
Luke seemed to be everywhere, getting good touches of the ball, fending off tackles, gaining important yards for the team.
At halftime he seemed more relaxed than he’d been before the game, which was a good thing.
We were barely ten minutes into the second half when the ball was kicked into touch and the assistant coach turned to me.
“Lewis, you’re on.”
I ran out, trying to ignore Alfie’s scowl as he ran past me. Hey, I didn’t make the call to sub him off.
And it felt so right to be on the paddock with Luke, to clear the ball from the ruck and pass it along the backline until it reached him, to watch him dodge opposition players like he had slippery eels somewhere in his ancestry.
Luke threw the best dummy pass I’d ever seen, causing Mitch Ashdown and the other Stallion defender to veer wide to cover the pass that never came, before he darted through the opening and streaked toward the try line.
Their winger scrambled back to defend but Luke was never going to lose a one-on-one footrace.
He grounded the ball under the goal posts triumphantly.
Holy shit. That was one for the highlights reel. It would probably be one of the tries of the season. And in his opening game, too.
Marauders players swarmed around Luke to congratulate him. But his eyes scanned past them, searching until he met my gaze.
He grinned at me, that wide, happy, open Luke grin that happened so rarely it was like an eclipse, and I grinned back.
I ran in to give him a hug, because that’s what the rest of the team were doing, and it felt wrong not to be part of that.
