The Weight of a Gaze
The week preceding the final game, the campus was alive with building excitement. Posters covered all the bulletin boards, the school paper had Adrian on the cover, and the air crackled with anticipation. For the rest of the students, it was all about school spirit and the excitement of a possible victory. For me, it was a spectator week, a week of watching Adrian at a distance as he was engulfed in the whirlwind of his own popularity.
I'd make up excuses to sit in the library annex, which had a direct view of the outdoor basketball courts where the team had extra practice sessions. Sitting by the window in my seat, surrounded by the comforting smell of old books, I'd observe him. He moved on the court with a stunning blend of power and precision. He was quicker, smoother, and quicker on his feet than anyone else, his concentration total. He'd jump for a rebound, appearing to be held suspended in midair for an impossible amount of time, his body an exquisite arc of controlled power. A fierce, proud possessiveness would rise in my chest, so intense that it was painful. It was immediately followed by a feeling of loneliness. I was observing him from a distance, just like hundreds of others. The only difference was that I got to go home with him.
It was in one of these practices, two days before the game, that the cozy cocoon of friendship was momentarily broken by the external world. I sat on a bench outside the gym doors, reading a book, waiting for Adrian. The rest of the team had showered, but Adrian always hung back, rehearsing until he was drained.
Well, well, well, look who's here," a taunting voice cut through my concentration. I looked up to see two football players, Kevin and Josh, approaching me. They were the two most conceited guys at school, and they'd never made any attempt to hide their disdain for Adrian being campus king. "Waiting for your master, Blake?" Kevin taunted, a twisted grin twisting his features.
I felt a rush of sweat-induced embarrassment rising up my neck and kept quiet, praying they would leave me alone if I just ignored them.
"Sort of sad, isn't it?" Josh teased, prodding his friend in the ribs. "The way you follow him around like a lost puppy. Does he make you carry his books for him?"
I gripped my book in my hand, my knuckles turning white. I hated this. I hated being the center of any kind of attention, never mind this cold, mocking kind. I attempted to tell them to leave me alone, but my voice got caught in my throat. "Is there a problem here?"
Adrian's tone was hushed. Dangerously hushed. He'd emerged from the gym so quietly, I hadn't even noticed him. He stood beside my bench, allowing his gym bag to thump softly to the ground. He wasn't even glancing my way. He was looking at Kevin and Josh, and the easy-going charm he usually wore was abandoned, replaced with a frigid, absolute silence.
Kevin, who was at least thirty pounds heavier than Adrian, just laughed, albeit a little forced. "Just having a chat with your little pet scheme, Cross. No need to be protective."
Adrian took one slow step forward and leaned against me, slinging his arm carelessly over my shoulder and pulling me in towards him. The warmth of his body was a jarring counterpoint to the cold menace that he was projecting. "I didn't hear a conversation," he growled, his voice grating down into a low frequency that was almost a growl, but seemed to vibrate in my bones. "I heard you talking to him. So I'll ask you again. Is there a problem?"
His gaze was hard, unblinking. There was no anger, no emotion whatsoever. It was level, cold, and unbelievably unnerving. He was more of a predator eyeing up potential danger than a student talking to his mates. Kevin and Josh's bravado melted in the weight of that look. They shared a nervous glance, their grins faltering. It was a wildly out-of-proportion response. They were big, tough blokes, accustomed to bullying. But they regarded Adrian with a flicker of what seemed to be real, primeval fear.
No. No problem," Josh grumbled, dodging the glare of Adrian. He elbowed Kevin and the two of them backed off before spinning around to make a wild dash.
As soon as they departed, that creepy feeling that clung to Adrian disappeared, and I couldn't help but question if it ever happened. The warmth of his arm on my shoulders was back to normal. He turned to me, his brow knit with concern. "You okay? What was going on?"
It was nothing," I lied, my chest still racing from the encounter. "They're just jerks. "Yeah, well, they can be jerks somewhere else," he told me, squeezing my shoulder once more before letting me go. He grabbed his bag and smiled, the old sun coming out from behind the clouds. "Come on. Let's go. I'm so tired I think I could sleep for a week." Later that evening, hours after we'd made our way back to the peaceful safety of our dorm room, I lay in bed, feigning sleep. I observed the slow rise and fall of Adrian's chest in the moonlight streaming through our window. I replayed the battle outside the gym in my head, over and over. It wasn't that he'd defended me. It was the way he'd done it. The creepy stillness, the unspoken fury, the way those two bullies had almost melted into terror. It was another piece that didn't belong in the puzzle of Adrian Cross, another piece that didn't fit the picture. My best friend, the campus hero, had gazed at them with the eyes of a monster for my benefit. And the most bewildering thing was the treacherous, fluttering warmth that spread through my chest whenever I remembered it