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How could he tell them that? How could he spin such an unbelievable story? The tribunal that oversaw his legal transition to adulthood certainly hadn’t believed him. How could he expect that anyone else would, especially since he had started living that life. It all sounded like a weak excuse.
“Rane,” Arus gave him a sad look, crest flat to his skull. “Talk to us. We’re your friends.”
“Or I could beat it out of you,” Louvre offered, sneering.
“No one is beating anyone,” Sal’s voice suddenly cut through the extremely one-sided conversation like a hot knife.
Rane turned his eyes as the captain approached them. He was already fully dressed, his crest half raised in, no doubt, irritation. He cut Rane a hot glare.
“You want to explain yourself out there?” He asked harshly.
“Just had a bad day,” Rane said noncommittally.
“Your bad day is turning into an entire bad season.” Sal jerked his head at Louve and Arus, sending them out without a word before continuing. “I spoke to your mother.”
Rane looked away. A fact that Sal didn’t miss.
“She promised me that meeting your mate would curb these behaviors of yours.”
“I have not mated anyone. Nor will I,” Rane promised. Determined in that, at least, if nothing else.
“Then, you will find yourself without a job and off the team come the end of the season.”
“So be it.”
Sal started in surprise, clearly not expecting that to be his answer. Rane couldn’t blame him. He had helped start this team with Sal. He allowed Sal to be captain, though he had just as much right to the role, due to his experience and age that surpassed Rane’s.
But they recruited the others and formed strategies and game plans together. Sal knew very well how much Rane loved trikball. He knew how long Rane had been playing, from the junior leagues that were played flat on the ground, to the minor leagues that had their own championship, to the Eliviers that they formed together in the Solar League.
For him to accept it ending, just like that, was wrong, and they both knew it.
But Rane didn’t take the words back. He didn’t even feel bad saying them.
“You don’t mean that,” Sal finally said, waving his acceptance away. “You’re going through something, Rane. I don’t know what it is, or why you won’t just talk to us about it. You could get control of your life at any time if you just stopped all this other nonsense.”
Rane didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say to that.
Sal sighed. “Fine. I’m going to give you one more chance. Hopefully, your mother is right, and all this can be better controlled if you have a female to nest for.”
No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t.
“Get changed, Rane. And don’t be late for practice tomorrow.”
Sal turned and started to walk away, but he turned back at the last moment, his expression softening with sorrow and the desperate need to help a friend. “I’ll be here for you, Rane. If you need it. If you need anything. Please, don’t forget that. We have such good lives. Things are going so well for us. I’d hate to see that wasted.”
Rane flinched. His concern, his care, striking him like knives. He hated it. He hated himself. He hated how easily his life spiraled out of his control.
But he said nothing, because he’d already done this. He’d already tried to argue his case, and it didn’t work out for him. Not at his initial hearing, not at any of the subsequent appeals. He was trapped in this cycle, and there was no point in trying to get out any longer.
Sal left and, when Rane finally gathered himself together again to step out of the shower room, it was to find that the others had already gone. He was alone as he returned to his locker and changed back into his street clothes.
He deliberately put on a shirt, though it went against everything he wanted.
Telfay males didn’t typically wear anything over their chest. A few did, of course. Those who were modest or those shy about their body would, but typically, a male would accent his chest with belts and straps, but nothing else.
After all, females appreciated the view, and they were triggered and turned on by the sight of males posing and preening for them. What male didn’t enjoy a female’s gaze? And it made it easier for the unmated to find their female if they were constantly ready to strut and pose.
But Rane wasn’t trying to impress his female. He wanted her gone. So, he was covering himself now, to keep her from bonding with him. To keep from impressing her. To put a block on his own feelings, because, sereei, if she wasn’t the most stunning female he’d ever seen.
