“Yes! Yes, I’m coming.”
Elliot
“St. Charles, you bringing dates to the games now or what?”
“Huh?” I’m down on the ground, tying my cleats when my teammate Devin hovers over me, giving my shoulder a nudge with his knee.
He’s wearing black shin guards and a shit-eating grin. “Bro, I asked you three times if you’re bringing a date to our games now. You’re not even paying attention.”
“A date? Why would you ask me if she was my date?”
“Because you brought a girl here and she’s been watching you the whole time?”
I look up from my laces, gaze colliding with Anabelle’s. She shoots over a small wave.
“Oh yeah, her—I should probably introduce you.”
“You got a girlfriend you forgot to tell us about?”
“Uh, no. I think that’s my new roommate?”
“Roommate?” Devin Pierce takes his turn glancing over at Anabelle Donnelly, legs crossed on a lawn chair, watching us intently. “Her?”
“We haven’t talked through all the details yet, but yeah, she’s probably going to move into my house.”
“Her? You’re going to live with her?”
My eyes narrow and I stand, pulling at my shin guards and adjusting my shorts. “Why are you saying it like that?”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Because, there is no fucking way you’re going to live in a house with her without wanting to, you know…”
Dev takes his hand, makes the symbol for okay, and then takes the forefinger from his other hand and pokes it through, over and over. Immature asshole.
I shake my head. “You are out of your fucking mind. Anabelle and I are just friends.”
Sort of.
“Men and women can’t be friends, yo, and they sure as shit can’t live together.”
“Why not?”
“Feelings and sex and shit.”
“That’s not going to happen, but thanks for the warning.”
“Hey man, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing! I just think you’re two reasonably attractive people with functioning downtown equipment. It’s going to happen.”
“Have you always been this annoying?”
“No. You’re just being sensitive because you know I’m right.” His eyes stray to the sidelines, hands propped on his waist. When he begins speaking, it’s as if he’s talking to Anabelle, but only I can hear him. “You totally dig him already, don’t you? Yup, yup, I see you watchin’ him, girl. He’s got real fine legs, don’t he?”
“Shut the fuck up, would you?”
He ignores me. “Stare a little harder, honey, he ain’t gonna notice. He’s got you planted firmly in the friend zone.”
“Stop talking like that. She’s watching us, not staring—there’s a huge difference.”
“You’re saying you haven’t had any dirty thoughts about her?”
“No.”
Dev laughs. “You will.”
A whistle blows in the distance and our feet start moving, our forward facing our goalpost, kicking the ball back to me.
I tap it still. Pause.
Run, moving it up the field a few yards before a defender from the yellow team invades my space. Pass it left to our midfielder.
Try to block out the image of Anabelle on the sidelines. She’s risen from her folding chair, clapping, hands around her mouth, shouting and calling my name.
Cheering me on.
The game is fast-paced and high energy and over before I know it, ninety minutes gone by in a flash.
Anabelle is waiting when we’re done, long ponytail swaying back and forth as she walks toward me, holding out a water bottle.
“You thirsty?”
I brought my own bottle, but her gesture is sweet. I reach for it. “Thanks.”
Chug.
I stop walking in my tracks. Blurt out, “I think we should do it.”
“Do it as in…”
“Move in together.”
She sucks in an excited breath, hands clasped under her chin. “You do?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Really?” she squeals, beginning a small hop that makes her boobs bounce. “Oh my gosh, Elliot, I could kiss you right now!” On her tippy toes, Anabelle folds me into an enthusiastic hug, squeezing the stuffing out of me, burying her face in my chest. “Thank you!”
Then she does kiss me, right on the underside of my chin, along my jaw. One quick kiss and another hug before she backs away, practically leaping in the air.
Talking a mile a minute.
“How soon can I bring my stuff over,” she jokes, doing a little fast footwork around an imaginary ball. “I don’t have much, so this is going to be so easy!”
“This weekend? Tonight?” I joke. “I don’t know, what works for you?”
“This weekend? Tonight!” she kids back. “Seriously Elliot, I am so freaking pumped.” Her arms go up and she jogs ahead of me. “Eek! I’m moving out of my dad’s house! This is the best day ever!” she yells into the night air.
I bite back a smile, staring down at the ground.
When I glance up, Dev is shaking his head from side to side, a knowing grin on his asshole face.
Anabelle
“Daddy, I have something to tell you.”
It’s late, half past eleven, but he had a long practice tonight with the team and has only just gotten settled in the living room, feet up on an ottoman, remote pointed at the television.
When he tips his head to the side, ear in my direction, I know he’s listening.
I can barely contain my excitement.
“I think I found a place to live.”
My father doesn’t move a muscle, eyes trained on the TV screen.
“Dad, I said I—”
“I heard ya, pumpkin. As soon as you called me Daddy, I knew you were up to something. It’s just taking me a few seconds to absorb the information.”
I step farther into the room, sitting next to him on the couch, twisting my body to face his even though he’s staring straight ahead.
“It’s such a great place, Dad,” I babble. “Small, but there isn’t any maintenance, and I’ll have plenty of room for my stuff and a roommate. Just one, so, kind of perfect.”
He finally looks at me. “Where is this place?”
“Just on the opposite side of campus, near the university center. One block over—you’d be able to pop in sometimes to see me!”
“What about fire escapes? How many of them are there?”
“Uh, none? It’s only one level.”
“Smoke detectors?”
“I, uh, I didn’t count.”
My dad’s jaw twitches. “I suppose you didn’t look to see if there was a fire extinguisher, either.”
“No, but I can text my roommate and ask.”
“Who’s the landlord?”
“Uh, I’m not sure. I’m, uh, subleasing.”
“Do you have a signed contract?”
“Not yet, but I will—tomorrow,” I lie, making a mental note to find out about all those things so my father doesn’t have a coronary.
Dad’s mouth remains pulled into a straight line, somewhere between pursed and expressionless.
He looks kind of sad, actually.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He’s being dishonest, something he’s never been good at, and I frown, too. If he’s already not happy about me moving into my own place, how is he going to feel when I tell him I’m living with a guy?
It can’t happen.
At least not tonight.
He will find out soon enough and he. Will. Be. Pissed.
“I’m really excited, Dad. This place is perfection.” I know it’s rotten, but I lay the groundwork for a little guilt-tripping, unable to handle his silence. Wanting to move out but wanting to do it with a clear conscience. “You know how hard I’ve been looking…I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“I am.”
My arms go around him and I squeeze. “Aww, are you being a big grump because you’re going to miss me? You are, aren’t you?”