Futbolista

Chapter 9 #2

“I was here before you. You’re the one following me.”

Vale whispers in her ear, and then she whispers something back, smiling as she nods.

They both seem so relaxed and, knowing almost without a doubt in my mind that my name’s on their mouths—mouths my mouth knows pretty intimately—I’m trying hard to look like nothing could phase me.

Optimistic, even. Who knows, maybe Vale’s helping me out.

They seem close. He could be putting in a good word for me.

“As long as you buy something, I’ll allow it,” Leana adds. “Maybe something that’s not gym shorts.”

“Nah, I went four years wearing chinos and shorts with buttons to school. I’m going to be wearing nothing but shorts made out of nylon or cotton that got no buttons for at least the next three months.

It’s a boycotting-pants era for me, living the ‘sky and sun means thighs and guns’ lifestyle.

I did come by for some shirts, though. So let me know if you see anything that might look good on me. ”

“Nice,” Kat says under their breath, just loud enough for me to hear. Going to get a fist bump for that line later.

I give her one more smile before following Kat, but I’m still able to keep Leana and Vale in view from the corner of my eye while I look through shirts, waiting to see if she’s going to make a move and come give me a suggestion, whether that’s a shirt she likes or a fitting room she likes; I’m game for either.

But after P é rez runs over to us twice, showing Kat and me a Dragon Ball shirt and then one of this pink-haired fool from a show he says I need to watch, my attention strays away from her and back to what I actually came here for.

I find an old Champion tee pretty quickly.

A Tommy Hilfiger shirt too, that still looks close to brand-new even though I bet it’s something Pops would’ve worn when he was my age.

And then this tee in a teal color with NICCE on the chest. Were they trying to spell nice ?

Is it cool because it’s wrong? Did I miss out on some joke that someone else would immediately get looking at this word?

Is it some knockoff knockoff Nike pretending to be Gucci?

“I’ve been eyeing that one,” a recognizable voice says next to me. I pick my head up from the shirt, turn around, and see Vale standing there, arms crossed but relaxed. “We just got it in yesterday, and I’m in love with the color. Also, not every day we get in some Nicce.”

So that’s how you say it? Knee-chee. Huh. I don’t know if I believe that.

“You work here?”

A soft laugh goes past his closed mouth as he smiles at me. He’s wearing this retro-looking Spurs jersey and short chino shorts that the jersey covers a little more than half of. It’s a good look. Real cute, casual, comfy.

“Yeah. My cousins own the place, so I basically only have to come in when I want or if they really need me. Extra cash and free clothes, you know. Anyway, as much as it pains me, I think the color would look really good on you. You should take it if you like it.”

I give him a smile back, pulling the shirt fully off the rack and holding it in front of me. “Yeah? You think so?”

“For sure. I mean, my eyes are first going to the soccer-guy legs, because someone here appreciates what you’re doing for the thick-thigh, short-shorts cause,” he says, giving Leana a playful glare and getting an eye roll back.

“But, after that, and ignoring the Crocs, getting a view of the shirt on you? How it’s going to hug your arms and your chest?

Done. Would have me simping so easily it’s kind of shameful. ”

“Damn,” I say through a laugh. “I don’t have a shirt this color yet. I guess I could get it, right?”

“You absolutely could.” I hear that flirtatiousness P é rez was talking about.

And catch how Vale is also catching how those words came out his mouth, looking like he surprised himself, that slight maroon blush on his cheeks coming up again.

“I mean, like, if you’re taking a vote, and if you’re asking me if you should get it, like, the shirt, then I would say yes.

Deeply in favor. That with, like, gray lounge shorts or just black gym shorts, perfect for anywhere: class, ramen, sneaky link. Parties, even.”

“I—” Whatever words I had ready to say get stuck in my throat when, in a quick flash, hearing the word parties causes this switch in my mind that turns on all those thoughts of last night. Of the party and standing between Vale’s legs, his tongue in my mouth as I grab handfuls of his ass.

And now I sound like I’m trying to get congestion out. Probably looking like I’m about to die. Thankfully, someone else comes in with a bag of stuff and gives Vale someone else to focus on as he tells the person he’ll help them out in a second.

“Sorry. Yeah, I’m taking it. I’ll take it. I mean—” I take a deep breath, get myself right. “I will buy it.”

“Great. You want me to hold on to it for you?” Vale asks, hand out toward me, while he glances over at the person with the bag of clothes still waiting for him at the register.

“As much as I’d rather help you find more shirts, I should probably take care of him first. But, if you want, I can keep the stuff you want to take up there. ”

“Oh, for sure. Thanks.”

And not even two seconds after Vale’s turned his back, P é rez is running his whole body into mine, arms going around my shoulders, catching me off guard, but too amped on cereal sugar to notice I may have definitely not been watching Vale leave.

“I told you; what’d I tell you,” he whisper yells right into my ear. “He’s into you, bro.”

“Shut up,” I say while pushing back.

“ I’m just saying. He’s putting on all the moves, undressing you and then dressing you back up in that shirt. And nothing else. And then you had your girl over there—”

“Not my girl.” I glance up quickly, looking for Leana and catching her still on the couch, busy texting someone and putting AirPods in her ears.

“And then you had not your girl staring but I couldn’t tell if it was, like, a back off stare or a hmm, interesting stare.”

I shake my head, giving him a glare before moving on to the next rack of clothes. “Go look at shirts, bro. Come on. Stop being a metiche.”

Twenty minutes later, the three of us are finally ready to go, Kat with this hoodie they couldn’t leave without because of how soft the inside feels and P é rez with, like, eight shirts.

I end up with a small but solid pile to add to that Nicce tee: the Hilfiger and Champion shirts, a plain maroon Lacoste tee, this Brazil World Cup shirt Vale showed me that I wasn’t going to leave without, and one with Frank Ocean on it that looks like a cover of one of P é rez’s mangas.

Not a bad haul. Might even take a picture and show Pops: Look, shirts with sleeves!

“What do you think, Pineapple?” Leana asks, coming up next to me in this tight black skirt and a just as fitted white button-up, tucked in, looking like a sexy librarian I want to punish me for some overdue book fines as she leans on the counter.

Actually, I think I’ve seen this video. Might have that tab open in my phone still.

And what do I think? I think I’m going to have to picture dogs dying and figure out how to calmly say, “Looks great” without getting drool on my shirt, and make sure my face stays straight forward.

Because I can’t trust my eyes not to go down to those top three buttons I know she purposefully left unfastened.

She knows what she’s doing. How much I appreciate her boobs.

This is the third outfit she’s tried on in the past ten minutes.

Got P é rez taking deep breaths and Kat letting out a huuuhh like she’s some footballer kryptonite and is fully aware of it.

“I think you should get it.”

And I definitely mean that in every way it could possibly mean.

“Thirty dollars,” Vale says, ignoring Leana and her smirk and rotating the tablet he’s using to check me out so I can pay.

“I thought they were ten bucks each,” I tell him, my head spinning from her to him. “And that Frank Ocean shirt was definitely more. Shouldn’t it be at least forty?”

“Buy three get one free today. So, six shirts, two free.”

“That’s not a thing,” Leana teases, her smile at Vale getting even more devious as she puts a gold necklace on. At the same time P é rez lets out a “Do I get buy three, get one free too?”

Vale looks like he’s going to jump over this counter at Leana the second we leave. Eyes big, like, I don’t remember asking you to speak .

“It’s cool. The shirts are going to look really good on you, so when everyone asks where you got them, send them this way. Consider it, like, when brands send stuff to influencers. And until I find some actual influencers in this city, why not futbolistas?”

I fake a hurt look, eyes squinted, head tilted, and my hand at my heart like those words destroyed me, while also being unable to keep the smile down. “Alright. I see how it is. I—are you sure? You won’t get in trouble?”

He lets out a pshh and his face goes back, like he’s almost insulted at the idea. “I’m not scared of my cousins. Just tag us if you ever wear this stuff in an IG post.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course. For sure. Thanks.”

Leana’s already changing again by the time we’re done paying. And still changing after we’ve said our byes and see you arounds to Vale—with Kat making a chismose-ass look at him and me when we hug. And she’s still not out when we’re walking out the door as slowly as possible.

Whatever. It’s fine.

I’m opening the door to my truck, a leg already propped up to hop in when I hear a voice call out, “Pineapple!”

Leana jogs the few steps over to me, her eyes giving me a quick up and down. “Run tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” I say with a big smile. “Definitely. Bright and early.”

She gives me a smile back before kissing my cheek. “See you then.”

Shit, I’ve got to look like all kinds of Goofy-ass, ah shucks now.

“Oh, also,” I start when I’ve managed to clear my head, “You think this week you’d have some time to hang out?”

Her eyes go into a thinking squint, arms crossing over her chest. “Isn’t that what we do already?”

I can feel my friends watching us, their eyes locked on from the other side of the windshield, wishing they had popcorn.

Maybe I should’ve waited before asking her again, but it felt right, and I’ve been sitting on it all weekend.

I want to see if the third time could be the charm.

Because as fun as the kind of hanging out we’ve been doing has been, “I want to take you out. I mean, I’d really like to take you out. Would you let me take you out?”

She takes slow steps toward me, her face still in thinking mode. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Haven’t finalized any details, but we could get dinner, go to the beach—even one out of the city if you want—do mini golf. There’s this new glow-in-the-dark one that looks like fun. That or their social media person knows how to make a guy really excited about glow-in-the-dark mini golf.”

“I’m actually extremely good at mini golf,” she tells me with a smirk. “I would kick your ass. Thoroughly.”

A breath of a laugh comes through my closed lips: hearing how her talking about her golf game sounds so similar to Vale talking about his beer pong game (which turned out to be very true). Yeah, they’ve got to be besties.

“I mean, I’m a gentleman. I was going to let you win anyway.”

“How chivalrous, Pineapple.” She hands me back my phone before turning around and starting to walk back to the store. “Text me.”

“I—yeah,” I say with the dopiest smile. “For sure.”

I hear her yell, “Vale, let’s get some lunch delivered,” when she opens the door, and the question sits on my tongue as I wonder what their history is.

And the only reason I don’t go asking immediately is because that might give her a reason to ask what mine and his is and …

yeah, not doing that. Dangerous territory that question could lead to.

Having to explain how that buy three get one free isn’t so much him being a star retail worker as a benefit of making out with him at a party.

I’ll let them have their lunch and mind my business.

P é rez and Kat wait until I’ve watched her go back inside, climbed into my truck, and have got my seatbelt on and a playlist going before both their hands come out for high fives and fist bumps.

“Two people, two different genders trying to get your attention,” Kat says, shaking my shoulder. “Like hot Thanos or something, collecting genders. Did Vale give you his number while we were in there?”

“ No, Kat. He knows I’m not that kind of guy.”

“What, did you already have to let him down easy last night?”

“I—no. It’s not like that.” But they and P é rez don’t need the full details.

How, yes, I did tell him I’m straight and that was a minute before the best kiss of my life.

They’d probably sprint back into that store and give Vale a fist bump.

Finding out that I’d been thinking about him more than I’d like to admit between leaving that party and getting to this store too?

They’d make it into something it’s definitely not.

Even if, yes, if I was into guys, I’d easily be falling for Vale, and his make-out skills and how he knows every single thing my mouth likes for another person’s mouth to do to it, and his ass that seems to constantly be where my eyes are looking.

Even if I might’ve thought about him once when I was rubbing one out.

I’m not into guys. We all know I’m straight.

Which is how I’m best off anyway. As much of a catch as Vale would be, then what?

To be a guy footballer who likes guys? Who lives in Texas?

In South Texas ? Who’s Mexican? Nah. There’s no way someone like that breaks the glass ceiling and doesn’t end up with at least a few scars.

And, at worst, picking a boy leads to potentially having no future in the sport at all.

“Pues, either way, I wouldn’t have been mad about seeing his phone number on your receipt,” Kat says.

“Watching you be his ‘gay boy falls for straight guy’ canon event. Which I’m sure you’ve been a few times already and never realized it.

But, also, share some of that energy with the rest of us, yeah? ”

“For real, Gabo. Like, if she’s got a twin sister; shit, if either of them got a twin sister—older sister or hot mom, even better—I mean, Kat and I can share—”

“Shut up. Let’s get back to the house. I’m trying to do nothing for the rest of the day.”