Trent had never been a big fan of soccer—he’d enjoyed playing it when he was a kid, though hadn’t paid it much attention since—but he’d quickly come to realize that dating Conner meant soccer. Soccer practices, soccer matches, soccer on TV.

Of course, it wasn’t all bad. Watching soccer on TV meant being on Conner’s couch, with Conner, and Trent could normally find more interesting things to do than watch 22 men run around after a ball.

Even if Conner did get upset after, when he discovered he’d missed some exciting happening.

Watching Conner play had it’s advantages as well. One, Conner liked Trent being there, and Trent liked making Conner happy. Two, watching Conner run around in shorts could never be bad.

Three, it meant they could easily meet up for a post-match celebration, which normally led back to Conner’s couch.

He heard the final whistle with relief, making his way down to stand outside a side door to the building the changing rooms were in. Conner would find him, knowing Trent would wait out of sight.

“Hey!”

Trent looked up to see Conner almost bouncing round the corner, still on a high from the win. “Hey,” he said. “You were great.”

The smile briefly disappeared. “Did you see that shot I missed? Hit it wide, and I had plenty of time . . .”

“You still won,” said Trent. “I thought you were good.”

Conner grinned at him, flushed and happy. Trent didn’t think, just reached for his hand to pull him close, kiss him . . .

“Ow!” Trent rebounded off the wall Conner had shoved him into. “What was that for?”

Conner looked around, as if expecting someone to come leaping out with a camera. “We’re in public.”

“Conner, there is no one around. Most people went out the main entrance.”

Conner shook his head. “Someone could see.”

“Well, so?”

The look Conner gave him made Trent want to check for a second head. “So? Someone could see!”

“You know, people are going to find out sometime.”

“I’ve told people!”

“Who? You haven’t even told Ethan!” Which Trent felt was just a little unfair—all the rest of them knowing a secret, and Ethan left out.

Conner didn’t quite glare, but came close. “I’ll tell him. Just not now. And I don’t really want a bunch of strangers finding out, okay?”

In other words, no, he wasn’t going to tell anyone. Trent turned his face away to hide frustration. He wanted to say more, wanted to press Conner into some sort of definite statement . . . but he didn’t want the argument. It felt too soon.

Strange. They fought together, had fought each other, had even hated each other—and now Trent was scared of annoying Conner. “Fine. Are you ready to go?”

“I left my stuff inside. I wanted to see you.”

Trent couldn’t help smiling. “Well, go get it, then. I’ll wait by your car, okay?”

Conner grinned, happiness returning. “Cool. See you.”

--

Conner walked back to the changing rooms, letting his smile drop as soon as he was away from Trent. What was his problem? So Conner didn’t want to tell people, big deal.

He should tell Ethan, really. But the idea of it—of opening his mouth and saying, ‘Hey, Ethan, I’m gay’, just seemed . . . mad. He couldn’t. Besides, he wasn’t gay. He liked girls. Or he thought he did.

Maybe Trent would accept that. Conner didn’t know what he was, so he couldn’t tell anyone! Simple. Except Trent would probably just point out that Conner could say they were going out.

Damn.

He felt a little dismayed to see Alexi still in the changing room, but he looked ready to leave, so hopefully Conner wouldn’t have to talk for very long. To his surprise, Alexi didn’t look happy, and stared at Conner with a grim expression. Not the face of someone who’d just won a match.

Had he missed something? Alexi getting booked while Conner was looking in the other direction? Except Alexi had looked cheerful enough earlier, and Conner knew he hadn’t missed anything like that. He never did.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Alexi shrugged. “I . . . Conner, that guy . . . Trent?”

Not good. So not good. “What about him?” It came out just a little too hostile, and Conner winced. Nothing like making Alexi even more suspicious.

Of course, it might be too late to worry about that.

“He is your friend?”

Conner nodded.

Alexi looked away, at the changing room floor. “Conner, I like you, and you have always been nice to me, and introduced me to the team, and that is good . . . but I don’t like . . .” He paused, seeming to struggle for words. “I won’t say anything,” he said. “I don’t like it, but I won’t tell people. You can keep it a secret.”

Conner considered trying to play dumb, but . . . Alexi knew. How? Had he followed Conner out, or just wanted to get away from the crowd? He still didn’t like big groups of people, when everyone would talk too fast and all at once.

Stupid. Stupid of Trent, and stupid of Conner for going out to see him without thinking.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said, voice still harsh. “So don’t say anything.”

Alexi drew back in offence, or maybe hurt. “I won’t. I said I won’t. But people will discover it, if you keep doing this.”

“They won’t.” They couldn’t, because Conner just wouldn’t be able to handle that. “Besides, no one would believe you if you said anything.”

He hated himself for thinking it, but knew it was true: Alexi was quiet, introspective, and foreign, with few friends. All those friends also belonged to Conner, who’d known them longer, and was more popular.

After all, who would believe that Conner McKnight was gay?

Alexi nodded. “I won’t. And I will stay on the team. But, I do not want to . . . to speak to you so much. To . . .” He glanced up, meeting Conner’s eyes for a second. “I just cannot see you the same way. I thought you were . . .”

He trailed off. Maybe he could have explained better in Russian, but Conner got what he meant.

Trent could say what he liked. Conner wasn’t telling anybody.

--

“Sorry you didn’t want to do anything after the game.”

Conner shrugged, even though talking on the phone meant it was fairly pointless. “I was tired.”

“I’d be exhausted if I had to run around for an hour and a half. Have you got more energy now?”

Yes. And he’d also managed to put Alexi’s revelation out of his mind, so . . . “Yeah. But my mom’s here. What if I come round yours?”

There was a silence on the other end, then Trent said, “Um . . . how about we meet at Hayley’s?”

Hayley’s? “Why? Everyone else will be there.”

“Yeah, well . . . it might be nice to see them.”

It might, but Conner could think of plenty other things he’d like to be doing. “Trent, even if your dad’s in, your place is huge.” He could tell that just from driving past. “Besides, I’ve never been there. I want to see what it’s like. I’ve never know anyone who lived in a mansion before."

“Yeah, it’s not as great as it sounds. Look, Conner, maybe we could meet up another time?”

“But . . .” Hadn’t Trent just been wanting to meet up?

“Only, I’ve just remembered, I’ve got tons to do for school tomorrow—”

“I could do it with you.” And hopefully copy.

“No. No, really, I’m quite tired as well. So maybe another time?”

Conner knew what a brush off sounded like. He just couldn’t figure out why he was getting one. “Yeah, sure. See you.”

“See you.”

Trent hung up the phone, hand shaking. Silly, to get so worked up over such a little thing. It might be fine if Conner came round.

But he still didn’t understand how the truce between himself and Mesogog worked. Only that Mesogog wouldn’t murder him in his bed, as long as Trent ignored the odd flash of green light and kept his father’s secret.

He didn’t know how Mesogog would react to Trent bringing the Red Ranger home. And he didn't want to find out.

--