“Ah, no worries. Look over them when you get a chance and get back to me. No rush.” Lewis wraps an arm around his shoulder, shaking him, heavy and dense and smelling of cologne and soap. His skin is still damp from his post practise shower.
The school is quiet and echoing. It’s been hours since the last class finished and only a few clubs train after hours on a Wednesday.
Guanyu nods, leaning in so his elbow knocks against Lewis’s. “Yeah, I can do that. From what I’ve seen your new uniform designs look great, though, so. Don’t think I’ll want to change anything.”
Lewis laughs, giving him a squeeze, smile brilliant and wide, before letting him go. “Flatterer. You’re too nice to me, you know.”
Guanyu hums, choosing not to say anything. Lewis has said the same thing to Fernando Alonso who has tried, unsuccessfully, every year to replace Lewis as the head of the cheer squad, despite not doing cheerleading himself. At this point, Guanyu thinks it might be a weird games between the two of them and is a bit too scared to ask.
“Huh.”
Guanyu glances at Lewis as he nears Mr.Wolff’s classroom. His locker is near here. Lewis is still smiling, eyes glittering, mouth curling up at the edges. It reminds Guanyu of Sebastian, the blond haired guy that hangs around when they practise sometimes, wolf whistling and calling out comments about Lewis’s posture. It’s the same look he has seen on the guy’s face when he’s about to say a bad joke that is sure to make Lewis laugh and lose focus on the choreography for a few minutes.
“What?”
Lewis shrugs. “Nothing. Just — I thought football practise was over ages ago. Wonder what Nyck is still doing here?”
Guanyu whips his head around. Nyck de Vries is leaning against Guanyu’s locker, ankles crossed in front of him, bopping his head slightly. His hair is wet and curling at the edges where it’s peeking out from his backwards cap that should not be as attractive as it is. He grins, face lighting up when he sees them, and waves, pulling out his earphones.
“No idea,” Guanyu says, walking forward, hand curling around the strap of his gear bag. His legs feel bare and cool. He didn’t take the time to change out of his training skort — too busy chatting with Yuki about his maybe date but maybe not date with Pierre that Guanyu and Mick seem to be more concerned about than Yuki himself.
“Right.” There’s laughter lining the edge of Lewis’s voice, tight and loud. Guanyu hates him. He’s going to find something wrong with his designs even if it kills him. “Sure. Have fun! Practise is early tomorrow so don’t stay out too late!”
Guanyu flips him off behind his back, Lewis cackling, hoping Nyck doesn’t notice. He’s not sure it works with the way Nyck’s smile widens.
“Hey.” Nyck pushes off the lockers with one foot, turning so Guanyu can open his. “Thought we could walk out together? I can give you a ride home? Valtteri had to leave early. Said to say sorry.”
Guanyu wrenches the door open. “Did he.”
“Yep.” Nyck bounces on the balls of his feet, rocking back on his heels. Guanyu starts shoving his books in his bag. Forget Lewis, he’s going to kill Valtteri.
He slams his locker door shut and starts heading back down the corridor, the overhead lights humming. “Here.”
Nyck’s fingers are warm and dry as he takes the bag off of Guanyu. He smiles again, smaller this time, tucking into one cheek more than the other. “Let me. Don’t ever tell him but Lewis is harder on you guys than Valtteri is on us so. You’re probably more wrecked than I am.”
“I —“
You have to give a little, Yuki had said earlier when Guanyu had asked about his date that’s not a date. Meet him in the middle, you know? And go from there.
“Yeah.” He relaxes his shoulders, exhaling. Tries to smile, stomach swooping. “Thanks.”
Nyck shrugs, head ducking, and falls into step with Guanyu. The tips of his ears are pink and they remind Guanyu of the pink glitter Sean has smeared all over Nyck’s face that last party of the summer, a few months ago. Guanyu had been pretty sure Nyck was going to kiss him then, huddled away in the corner of the kitchen, dark and small and quiet, glitter shimmering in the low light from the bonfire outside, but then the lads had all ran in, a roar of sound and bodies, and Guanyu hadn’t seen Nyck again until the next day in Chemistry.
Give a little, Guanyu thinks. I can do that. He asks about practise and Nyck groans, dramatically over the top, launching into a story about Sean and Pierre and a bucket of ice cold water and lost shoes. It’s funny, like most stories Nyck tells, and Guanyu laughs, fingers tingling when he catches Nyck glancing at him, looking pleased when he smiles.
