Date: Fri, 1 Dec 2023 00:32:22 +0100 (CET)
From: karcamel@tutanota.com
Subject: OLD HOBBY, NEW SPICE Chapter 2

OLD HOBBY, NEW SPICE


3

I spent the day making preparations with the evening in mind. I purchased a
six-pack of cola, chips, candy, and the ingredients for pizza. My thought
was that he could come over a little earlier and we could make pizza
together. Not knowing his taste preferences, I bought different toppings.

   I cleaned the apartment carefully and changed the bedclothes. I knew I
was overly optimistic about the linens, just in case it wouldn't hurt. I
even smiled a little, because it seemed to me certain that I would go no
further than admiring him.

   The match was scheduled to begin at eight in the evening. Earlier in the
day, I met Nick's mother, who was pleased that I allowed her son to watch
the match. She shared how fervently he approached football, and how he had
been eagerly anticipating the evening. I said the pleasure was all mine and
asked if he could come earlier as I had planned to make pizza and it would
be nice to bake it with him.

   The boy's mother was genuinely excited by the idea and praised what a
wonderful neighbor she had. He mentioned that his son completely lacked a
father figure, and although he didn't expect it from me, it would be good
for him to have the companionship of an adult male. I couldn't agree more,
although our motives may have been slightly different.


4

   Finally, around six in the evening, my doorbell rang. I had been eagerly
awaiting that moment.

   "Hey, Mr. Parker," the kid greeted with a delightful smile on his face.

   "Okay, let's try this again. Remember what I told you earlier," I said
to him, grinning playfully, and closed the door in front of him. Soon
enough, the doorbell rang again.

   "Hey, Scott." We looked at each other and burst into laughter. I invited
him inside.

   "You probably want something to drink," I asked him, grabbing a cola can
from the fridge. I gave it to him and showed him to sit at the table. I sat
across. He was a bit shy, glancing at his drink.

   "Exciting game coming up, huh?" I said to break the ice.

   "Totally! If we win today, we're in the tournament. Oh boy, I'm super
pumped for that game!"

   "Me neither," I feigned excitement, watching the kid. His cheeks were a
bit rosy, maybe from running around playing. Blond hair was a bit of a
mess, just the way it should be at that age. They arched behind him by
slightly protruding ears, which I thought was cute.

   His eyes were blue and pale, maybe more on the gray side, and there was
a hint that he always had some mischief on his mind. Above them, thin
light, almost invisible eyebrows. Around a round nose, surrounded by faint
freckles, there was a tiny scar, almost healed completely - boys will be
boys, as they say.

   The smile was wide, revealing all his teeth. His front teeth were a bit
longer than the rest, not to make him look like a rabbit but enough to make
his smile adorable. His face told me he's a playful guy who doesn't easily
get serious. His chin curved down proportionally, making his face symmetric
and pleasant.

   Nicky was of average height for his age, full of the flexibility of
youth, and a childlike liveliness. His shoulders were rounded and his
movements were light, as children usually have. His tanned arms and legs
were slender but sinewy. He was indeed slender, perhaps even thin, but full
of strength and energy.

   Sports shorts fit snugly around his hips, revealing his mobility and the
suppleness of his young body. The football shirt was a little too big for
him, giving him some room to grow and at the same time showing off his
passion for football.

   He smiled gently and his eyes sparkled with happiness. His whole being
exuded the joy and enthusiasm of youth.

   We sat in the kitchen, staring at our drinks.

   Then Nicky looked at me with excitement and pride in his eyes.

   "You know... I've read all the players' stats and I know all about
tactics.  I think we'll win easily."


   "Well, well, champ. It's good to know things, but remember that there
are always surprises in the game."

   He looked at me seriously. "But, we have the best offense in the
world. He'll score a goal for sure."

   "True, he's a great player. But football is a team sport, and winning
requires cooperation from every player." I tried to keep a bit of a low
profile, so as not to be too disappointed if there was a defeat.

   He thought for a moment and then said firmly, "But I still think we will
win."

   "That's what we all hope. But remember, boy, win or lose, the important
thing is to have fun and support our team."

   "What do you say we make some pizza?" I said, changing the subject.

   The boy lit up with excitement. "Yes," That would be cool!"

   I got out a flour bag and some other ingredients.

   "Well, what toppings would you like?"

   He thought for a moment and then said firmly;

   "Pepperoni, lots of cheese, and maybe some pineapple."

   "Sounds delicious, except that pineapple doesn't belong on pizza." Nicky
looked at me in disbelief and I didn't continue to tease him any
further. "Will you help me put them on the pizza?"

   He jumped up from his chair. "Yes! I can cut the pepperoni and sprinkle
the cheese!"

   I began preparing the pizza dough while Nicky cut the toppings.

   Finally, our work of art was ready to be put in the oven. He peered
excitedly into the oven, watching as the cheese began to bubble.

   "You look like a real pizza master, boy," I said, as excited as he was.

   "It's fun! I'm sure this will be the best pizza ever," He laughed
happily.

   When the pizza was finally out of the oven and cut into slices, we sat
down at the table and watched with satisfaction the feast we had prepared.

   He held up a slice and said, "Thank you. This was a great idea!"

   I poked him playfully with my finger. " No need to thank me, master
chef. This one was teamwork."

   We ate, chatting and laughing together, not a word about football. The
kitchen was filled with the smell of delicious food and a warm atmosphere
of togetherness.  It wasn't just food; it was a moment filled with shared
joy and the magic of cooking.

   I tasted a pizza with pineapple. Pineapple definitely doesn't belong on
pizza, but could I have told him not to put it on it? Well, of course, I
couldn't. Pineapple is too sweet, but so was a boy for a man my age. I
still wanted to try both.


5

We sat on the sofa, eyes glued to the TV screen, where the long-awaited
football match was finally about to start. Nicky sat next to me, his eyes
shining with a sparkle of anticipation.

   "How's it looking? Can we win?" He asked excitedly.

   I couldn't help but smile. "Of course we can win, boy! But remember,
enjoy the game itself."

   The whistle blew to signal the start of the match. Every kick, every
pass made my heart beat faster, not because of the game, but because of the
boy sitting next to me, his eyes full of excitement.

   Nicky clenched his fists in excitement as our team dominated the ball. I
put my hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer to me.

   "These early minutes are important, and the game can turn either way at
any time."  He said knowingly, and I nodded my head in agreement.

   As the opposing team showed their skills, silence fell over the room. We
looked at each other, and the boy looked as if he wanted to step onto the
court himself.  Every start of an offense made him tense, and the
opponent's break made him sigh.  Our heads were against each other, and my
hand had found its way to his thigh.

   The excitement of the game grew, and when our team created a promising
attack, Nicky stood up, giddy with excitement. "This could be a goal!" He
exclaimed, and as he sat down I pulled him into my arms.

   Although the goal was yet to be seen, there was a lively atmosphere in
the room and a shared excitement. The match was just beginning, but in
those moments I knew I was sharing something very special with the
boy. Football was the force that brought us together, one way or another.


6

   We watched together as the final whistle blew and the match ended in a
draw. The TV screen was filled with the disappointed faces of the players
on the pitch. We sat in silence for a moment, letting the emotions of the
match settle around us.  My arm was wrapped around the boy as he sat on my
lap, my other arm resting on his thigh. I put my head on his shoulder and
he looked at me, disappointed, and said:

   "Well, a draw is not bad, Ireland must win by three goals. They can't do
that."

   I nodded in understanding, even though I didn't really know anything
about the score while moving my hand.

   "Yeah, well, sometimes a match ends like this. The important thing is
that we enjoyed our moments together and cheered for our team. We had a
good time, didn't we?"

   "We had an incredible time. Thanks, Scott."

   We watched the highlights of the match for a while longer, and even
though the final score didn't live up to our expectations. I caressed his
stomach and chest and gave him a little kiss on the back of his neck. I was
sure he'd pull away, and I'd have to come up with some excuse for my
actions, but he leaned back, and lifted his chin, squeezing my hand that
was on his thigh.


TO BE CONTINUED

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karcamel@tutanota.com