69 or 71 for andreil?
71.
The night is cold enough that they can see their breath, but that doesn’t stop them from going to the roof. Andrew’s craving for nicotine doesn’t halt with the weather, even if the cold slips through their bright orange PSU jackets. The fiery color isn’t enough to keep them warm.
Neil rubs his hands together, balls them up into a fist and spreads fingers as far as they will go. He watches the scars move across his knuckles, run over every joint in his hand. The smell of cigarettes doesn’t keep him from thinking of Lola, but Andrew’s presence helps mitigate the fear.
He catches Andrew watching him and smiles sheepishly. Andrew rolls his eyes and returns to smoking, his eyes landing carefully on the horizon.
“Last night’s game went well,” Neil says. “Though we really need to get Nicky to cut down on those dramatic plays.”
Andrew snorts.
“Jack still doesn’t know how to pass the ball, either. He should have seen that backliner and passed to Kevin.” Neil rubs his fingers together in his pocket. He thinks about the game, the goals let in and the defensive moves missed. The passes lost, the opportunities untaken. The team is growing stronger, slowly but surely, and Neil wonders if it will be enough.
Andrew snaps his fingers in front of Neil’s eyes, grabbing Neil’s attention. He looks at Andrew, who is giving him a bored look.
“Hey, Neil. You have a cute nose. Don’t make me break it.”
The look Neil gives Andrew is somewhere between fond and exasperated. Andrew’s not subtle, though. Neil drops the subject and they look out at the Palmetto skyline.
