The Girl in the Rugby Shirt

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Author note: This is my entry for YAY TEAM: The Sex & Sports Author Organized Challenge 2024.

I looked, and felt, utterly ridiculous right up until the moment I walked into the Student Union bar. It was cold outside and my long legs were covered in goosebumps from the October wind, for which just a pair of shorts were wholly inadequate. Luckily my top half was warmer, wrapped in a thick rugby jersey, but there lay the ridiculousness. There were fashionable rugby-style jerseys for women, but this was not one of those: the front said ‘BRISTOL UNIVERSITY RUGBY’ and the back said ‘LYNLEY’ with a large number 3 printed beneath. It wasn’t even an old-fashioned, thick material, it was a modern type of breathable fabric, but the warmth came in the fact that it was too big for me and had plenty of space for warm air to gather, hanging off me and just barely showing any sign of my tits. It belonged to Craig Lynley, a prop for the university first team, who was easily twice my size, even though I wouldn’t describe myself as a petite girl at 5’9.

The reason entering the student union reassured me was that I spotted a knot of other girls wearing ill-fitting rugby gear gathered by the bar, and when they spotted me they put up a cheer.

“Chloe!” someone yelled and I found myself being pulled into a series of enthusiastic hugs. The bar was already littered with empty or half-drunk shots and cocktails, and even before I could pull my debit card out of the pockets of my unfamiliar shorts (I’d drawn the line at bringing a handbag in this get-up) I’d been handed two tequila shots and an unidentified orange cocktail. The two shots went straight down and I sipped the cocktail.

“Is this a bellini?” I asked, suspiciously.

“Only champers tonight, ladies, we’re celebrating,” declared Tessa, the team captain. She held up a shot of tequila and spilt half of it down her arm. “To beating UCL.”

“Beating UCL,” we cheered, variously downing shots or cocktails as the tired-looking student bartender racked up another tray of shots.

“Any sign of the rugby lads?” I asked, my throat already burning from the tequila but my emotions riding the wave.

“Cannot wait to see them in volleyball shorts,” someone giggled, setting the rest of us off. Tonight’s joint social had been planned for weeks: Bristol Uni Women’s Volleyball team were wearing rugby outfits, whilst the rugby team were supposed to be coming in volleyball uniforms, although they were rather a law unto themselves and we weren’t really sure if they would do it. The icing on the cake for tonight was that we’d won our first competitive game of the season, a big one against one of the top teams from University College London. It set us up as one of the favourites for the championship and we were fizzing with the excitement of it all.

“Alright, as soon as they get here we’re going, though, I want to go to Dani’s,” Tessa said, leaning against the bar with a confident air of leadership. She was a third-year, both the captain and our outside hitter. An inch taller than me, black-haired and Spanish with all the fiery passion they were known for. I was the setter, the second-tallest on the team, a copy of Tessa but blonde and British and only in my second year at Bristol. She’d taken one look at me at trials the previous September and immediately appointed me to the team. I’d started every game since, and when I wasn’t studying Biology, I was living and breathing volleyball.

“We always go to Dani’s,” I complained, jokingly, and Tessa responded by putting her arm around my shoulder and kissing my cheek aggressively. “Tough shit, babe,” she growled in my ear.

“Get a room, lezbos,” Tamsin Salden, third-year, middle blocker, yelled, grinning and giving us the middle finger.

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be offended, but the casual use of homophobic language in the team had been a feature ever since my first practice session, which was why I was too afraid to come out as lesbian to my teammates. That, and the fact I’d fancied Tessa for three intensely conflicted weeks in my first year, until I’d seen her with her tongue down the throat of a monumentally unattractive fourth-year guy with masses of acne. I’d gone off her instantly and, since then, managed to avoid developing feelings for any of the other girls on the team, all of whom, it seemed, were aggressively straight.

“Let ’em be dykes if they want to be,” someone else said, but by the time I’d turned to see who it was, the thought was driven out of my head by a huge whoop that went up as the first of the rugby lads arrived. We cheered and clapped as they walked in, their big torsos squeezing into our uniform tops from last year, which would forever be stretched from this treatment, and a couple of them posed, flexing biceps. Better still were the tiny, tight shorts. Not every one of the lads had opted for them, but enough of them were good sports that we got a good cheer going for them.

“Pints, Pendik travesti pints, pints,” they began chanting, and the barman resignedly began pulling pints of lager as we attacked our next round of shots and then broke up our group to mix with the lads.

Being gay, I wasn’t at all interested in flirting while eyeing up big rugby players’ packages in tight shorts, but I didn’t want to seem unsociable, so I trotted up to my opposite number, Craig Lynley, and showed him his shirt.

“Like it?” I asked, shimmying my shoulders ironically.

He grinned, picking up one of the first pints that barman had pulled and sinking the first half of it. “Looks better on you than me,” he joked, and I laughed. Craig was good-looking and a good laugh, but he knew he was attractive to women and had a string of one-night-stands and broken relationships stretching behind him which didn’t really make me think much of him.

“Did you win today?” I asked, realising I’d lost my cocktail somewhere.

“Yeah, not one of our biggest challenges, though. Next week will be tougher. How about you girls?” He eyed my body and I pretended I hadn’t seen.

“Big win, so we’re celebrating,” I explained, as one of his teammates came over and gave him an almighty smack on the shoulder. Craig looked over to see who it was and cracked a smile. “Alright Jonesy, you on the pints tonight? Who am I kidding, you live for the lash.”

It was at times like these that I was envious of the straight girls. They could flirt shamelessly with the guys just to give themselves something to do, and if they got a night with a hot guy on top of them, it was a bonus. But it wasn’t like we were organising joint social events with the women’s hockey team so I could try and get some, and flirting with guys made my skin crawl.

“Talk later?” Craig said to me, finishing the other half of his drink.

“Yeah,” I said, simply, watching him grab another drink and wade off into the crowd. Apparently the moment he realised I wasn’t making moon eyes at him and trying to get him into bed, I was yesterday’s news. Well, he was more of a laugh if you got him on his own, I told myself as I turned to search for my drink.

“All alone?” Tessa asked as I drifted along the bar.

“Looking for my bellini, actually.”

“Oh, forget it, we’re going to Dani’s any minute.”

Dani’s was the traditional second stop on a bar crawl: student union, Dani’s, Milkie’s, then either a club in town or one of the pubs on the main street. Milkie’s was my favourite: you were sufficiently drunk when you got there to overlook the lurid decor and faux-pop atmosphere, but the drinks were cheap and it only ever had students in it, so it was usually a good time. Dani’s was more pricey, but you had to walk past it to get anywhere else, so it would be a shame not to go in.

“Right then.”

I didn’t relish going back out in the cold, but the student union bar was more geared up to serve toasted sandwiches to revising students over a sensible drink, rather than catering for massive booze-ups. I followed Tessa as she went around canvassing support for Dani’s, but the rugby lads were catching up with each other and only half of them listened.

“I’m just going to go,” Tessa announced, shaking her curly hair to show she didn’t care. “They’ll end up there anyway.”

“Photos!” someone yelled, and before we could round up the volleyball girls to leave, we found ourselves being sucked into group selfies. I could feel the alcohol working and I was pleased I was wearing sensible trainers, which matched my outfit, rather than heels, and I knew my hair would look fine in the photos as it was in a high ponytail. So I let loose a little, flicking Vs and sticking my tongue out as we squeezed into the tiny square of someone’s phone screen, knowing it would be all over Insta by the morning. But you didn’t want to be the person who missed out.

As we walked up the road to Dani’s, ignoring the cold wind, I felt a fresh rush of excitement about today’s victory. We’d been practising for weeks and we’d still expected to lose, so when we’d gone up 5-1 after a big spike from Tessa, suddenly we’d begun to believe. And then we hadn’t looked back: hitting up the final set and watching Tessa convert it had been an incredible feeling and I still felt like I was walking on air. This was why I loved volleyball and I was in such a great mood.

“Reckon we’ll go undefeated this year?” I asked Tessa, half-joking.

Tessa laughed. “If only… I’d be the greatest captain we’d ever had.”

“Well, you’re more like dead weight on the team, really…”

“I’ll bench you, don’t test me,” she said, smirking. “I think we should win the next three, so we’ll be on top of the division for sure.”

“We’re not expecting to lose any players next year, are we? If we can do well this season we should do even better next time around.”

Tessa nodded. “Mm, we’ll see. I can’t be captain Pendik travestileri two years in a row, though, so someone else will have to do it. Probably you, Chloe, I think you’ve got the right mind for it.”

I blushed, but it was dark outside so Tessa couldn’t see. “You think?”

“Yeah, Tamsin’s good but she’s not a motivator. You’re the best person, I think. But it’s a while away yet. I’m still running the show.”

Captain of the volleyball first team. That was a good achievement, I thought. But like Tessa said, it was still early. Don’t get carried away.

Dani’s was busy with other students when we arrived, and I went straight to the bar with my card to get the shots in. We switched from tequila to sambuca, and the rugby tops were getting some odd stares from the other people in the bar, but I ignored them. Instead of hanging out at the bar, the girls had colonised a couple of tables in a raised area near the back, and I picked up the tray of shots with steady hands to carry over to them, acutely aware that if I tripped over someone’s foot I’d tip thirty quid of alcohol all over the floor.

“Do you need a hand?” someone asked as I approached the steps up to the raised area. I looked to my left to see who’d asked and inadvertently locked eyes with one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen in my life. I’d been looking down at the tray to avoid spills and when I turned to look, I hadn’t expected her to be at least six inches shorter than me, even though she was wearing heels and I wasn’t, so our eyes had met instead of me looking vaguely at her neck as intended. Her deep brown eyes looked back at me and my mouth was instantly dry. Fuck, she was pretty.

“Uh, I think I’m okay,” I said, stupidly. She smiled and walked off to the bar. Just like that. Even though she’d just sent ten thousand volts straight through my veins. Even though I would have walked to the end of the earth to see those eyes looking into mine again. Or at least, as far as a bar in the cold October wind.

Luckily, I didn’t need to go to the end of the earth to catch another glimpse of her. After handing round the shots, I looked down at the bar area, where she was standing, tapping her card on the bar, waiting for her turn to be served. She was incredible. Long black hair, not totally unlike Tessa’s, hung around her face to the middle of her back, although it wasn’t curly, it was wavy, and whenever she moved slightly, it sent ripples through it in a way I couldn’t properly articulate but somehow made me want to bury my face in it. As she leant on the bar, her back was arched slightly, accentuating her feminine frame, clad in a coral coloured skin-tight dress leading to two spaghetti straps on her shoulders, which disappeared under her hair. I longed to touch that exposed skin on her back, between her shoulder blades, trace my fingertips over her tan skin-

“What are you staring at?” Tessa asked me, sharply.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, tearing my eyes away from her. “Just couldn’t remember if the shots were three quid or three-fifty.”

“Who cares?” Tessa asked, hugging me again, her breath reeking of sambuca. “Let’s part-y!”

But I couldn’t shake Coral Dress from dominating my thoughts. When it was finally safe to look back, she was gone, and I couldn’t see her anywhere else in the bar. My tummy crunched when I thought about never seeing her again, and I remembered an old saying about falling in love at first sight with people you see on the train, but never talking to them or seeing them again. In and out of your life: transient.

I felt out of place, sitting with the other volleyball girls, hitting more shots and making dirty comments about a couple of lads sitting on the other side of the bar, looking fit in designer polos and jeans. I didn’t fancy either of them, of course, but I joined in the giggling anyway. Just to fit in.

“Okay, enough,” Tessa said, ten minutes later. “It’s not a bar crawl if we sit here all night waiting for the rugby lads who might never leave the student union anyway. Let’s go.”

Crushing disappointment flooded through me. Coral Dress must have left. I looked around as we headed for the door, thinking I might see her, but there was no sign of her. Transient. I hated myself for noticing her and hated myself for not being able to ignore her. She was no doubt straight, anyway. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, willing myself to forget about her existence.

“You okay?” Tessa asked, and I opened them again.

“Yeah, just bracing myself for the cold,” I said, preparing to step out of Dani’s and move on with my life.

But I couldn’t.

Because I saw her.

She was walking over to a table, carrying a half-drunk glass of wine, half-walking, half-shuffling in her heels. Her head turned and she looked at me. Then she smiled. I was captivated.

“I’m, uh, going to hang on here for a minute,” I told Tessa, urgently. “Go on without me, I’ll catch you up.”

She Travesti pendik looked at me like I was insane.

“What?”

“Just go. I’ll text you.”

Tessa hesitated, but her momentum was carrying her out of the door as I stopped short, and to my relief her head turned and she caught up with the others.

Now I turned. I took a deep breath, and walked determinedly up to Coral Dress’s table. She was sitting with a group: two other girls and two guys. The guys were skinny and pale, indoor types with long, untidy hair, wearing hoodies with logos on, practically dressed the same without noticing it. The girls were dressed for going out, in club dresses, hair done, heavy makeup. I ignored them, though, and looked at Coral Dress, who looked up at me as I approached with a blank expression. My face burnt with embarrassment. I felt hot, my heart pounded, my hands shook.

“Hi, um, I just wondered if I could buy you a drink, or something?”

Her half-finished glass of wine stood between us, a glaring reminder that no, she did not need a drink buying for her. Her guy friends looked bewildered, and the other girls began to form smirks that I knew and I hated every day of my existence, the ‘look at the lesbian’ smiles of mocking. Every moment I waited, I waited for that smirk to appear on Coral Dress’s face. Or pity. Pity would be worse.

“Yeah, that would be nice. I’ll come with you.”

Her girlfriends looked stunned, but she grabbed her handbag and got up, ignoring them, and we walked to the bar together. The room seemed to drift for a second and I wondered if I was dreaming, or hallucinating. But she was real, and she stood next to me at the bar, relaxed, while I dug my fingernails into my palms and urged myself to be cool.

“I’m Jiya.”

“Chloe.”

She smiled and I fell in love with her all over again. “I love the name Chloe. I had a doll when I was little that I called Chloe.”

I smiled back. “Jiya is a beautiful name, too.”

“My parents are from Bangladesh, but they moved here before I was born. They wanted to use traditional names, but ones which still felt western. But, listen to me going on. You probably didn’t want to know that.”

And suddenly I realised she was nervous, too.

“No, that’s really interesting,” I said, doing my best to sound genuine. “It’s really cool and unique. I’m not going to forget it, and I always forget names.”

I had meant it as a throwaway line, but somehow it came out flirtier than I had intended. But before I could feel embarrassed, Jiya just giggled slightly.

“So, please tell me about your outfit, Chloe. There has got to be a story there.”

The barman interrupted, and Jiya asked for more wine. I’d been drinking spirits all evening, but I switched to wine to match her, and he handed us two large glasses over the bar.

“Do you want to go back to your friends?” I asked, looking over at their table. They were talking, but I’d noticed a couple of over-the-shoulder looks at us.

“No,” Jiya said, decisively. “Let’s sit somewhere different.”

There was a booth table free not far away so I sat there, opposite her, feeling self-conscious. She brushed her hair off her shoulder and picked up her wine, drinking a few mouthfuls as I tried not to stare at her. Up close, she was wearing lip gloss which matched her dress and, makeup-wise, was a stroke of genius. Her long waves of hair lightened towards the tips, and her nails were painted a uniform white, which contrasted perfectly with her skin and hair. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, either because she’d been drinking or because she was flustered by sitting here with me, and the glow extended down her neck to her cleavage. She didn’t have giant boobs, by any means, they definitely matched the rest of her, but they weren’t petite like mine. As the volleyball team routinely put it, they were ‘big enough to wank off a cock’: not an image I wanted to picture, but I couldn’t deny noticing them.

“So, the outfit?” Jiya prompted me, and I nodded, hastily having some of my drink to cover up that I’d been looking at her.

“I’m on the volleyball team, and we’re having a joint social with the rugby team. We’re wearing each other’s uniforms.”

Jiya grinned. “Sounds suitably ridiculous for a drinking social. I’m out with drama society. We’re supposed to be going out to a club later, but…”

She tailed off and sipped her drink again, apparently not wanting to finish the sentence.

“The rugby team were supposed to follow us here, but there’s no sign of them,” I explained, taking over. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they never leave the student union bar.”

“We started there a couple of hours ago,” Jiya said. “Seems like everyone does the same bar crawl around here.”

There was a pause whilst we both had more to drink. I wanted so badly for conversation with Jiya to feel easy, like we were old friends, but we looked at each other for a second and I laughed nervously, neither of us saying anything, both of us waiting for the other to talk. She was so pretty and I loved looking at her, and seeing her looking at me, but I’d met her about fifteen minutes ago and we could hardly sit there staring into each other’s eyes. I almost felt too nervous to go on.

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