This is story 5 in the evolving relationship between Jake and Ryan. You would probably enjoy this more if you read them all. But it does work as a stand alone story too.
Feedback always appreciated, so please leave a comment.
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Football training had been physically hard and Tom was looking forward to getting back to his digs to rest. He had lingered in the showers with his team mates, discussing the game the week before, and speculating about what changes may be coming in the next team selection later that week.
They had had a good win in their last game, against quality opposition, but even better, they had gelled well as a team, despite many changes. This week more players were coming back from injury, but the new freshman midfielder, Jake, had played particularly well against Swansea, surely he would keep his place.
Tom had been the team's consistent Left Back since the end of his first year, 2 years ago. There were not many left footed players, and none of the new freshers were likely to take his place. He felt secure, but excited that this could be a really successful year with this squad. It would also be his last. He would graduate this year.
Half way back towards one of the student housing area in Roath, chatting with his friend Max, Tom suddenly remembered that he had to submit his coarse work before midnight that night, and it counted towards his final degree marks. It could not be late.
He had left it until the last moment, staying up most of the night before to get it completed. Tom was not the most disciplined student and it was not uncommon for him to leave things until the deadline. He had printed it off on a friends computer earlier and the hard copy needed to be posted at the Biology faculty before the door was locked at midnight. Unfortunately the printed copy was in his locker, back in the changing rooms. He had put it there before training, to keep it safe, meaning to take it to the faculty on his way home. Being scatty, he had completely forgotten about it.
There was no other way, he needed to get back and get his hands on that work. He excused himself and ran back towards the university sports hall, hoping he would get back before the grounds staff locked up. After a full training session his legs were weary. The last thing he needed was a stiff run. But he had no choice, he could not afford to drop marks for lateness. Weary or not, he needed to get back there as quickly as possible.
Retracing his steps the streetlights illuminated his way, on a cold crisp winter evening. The icy, dry air burning the back of his throat. His lungs struggling to deal with his deep breathing after a long training session, and now an extra burst of exertion.
His heart thumped in his chest as he approached the sports hall, all lights were still ablaze, and he remembered that most of the hall was open until late for the indoor sports like badmington, gymnastics and the climbing wall. Hopefully they wouldn't lock the changing rooms for the outside sports either, even though the floodlights were now off, and everyone must have long since left that area.
Entering the Men's changing room, still out of breath, he took a deep mouthful of stale, sweaty air, with the faint aroma of muscle rub, and old socks. To his relief, he could get in. His locker was in the first row close to the entrance. A huge weight lifted off his shoulders once he opened his locker and retrieved his work, and placed it in his back pack, safe and sound. Panic over, he had plenty of time to get across to the faculty to post it.
Having been so focussed on retrieving his file he had missed the fact that the showers were still running. Surely nobody was still here so late after training. He thought that one of the taps may have been left on, and nobody had noticed before leaving. He should turn that off, otherwise, if the caretaker missed it, it could run all night. He closed his locker, donned his bag to leave, and approaching the showers he felt the heat of the steam on his chilly face, and the warm, damp air filling his lungs.