Epilogue Arya
epilogue
Arya
Two Weeks Later
Let’s go, Lions!” Arya clapped.
Next to him, Ramin popped a frozen grape into his mouth. Second summer had come, as it always did, bringing the last bit of sweltering heat to Kansas City before fall truly began.
Arya shook his leg to try to unstick his balls from his inner thigh.
Past Ramin, Jake was kicking a soccer ball around with a few other kids, but he glanced over every so often to see if his dad was kicking yet. Arya hoped they’d make it that far.
He didn’t like to boast (well, often), but after Noah, Arya was probably their best player. More out of the years of practice than any particular athletic talent, but still.
Without him playing, the Lions were down by one at the bottom of the seventh, with two outs and the bases loaded.
It was like something out of a movie: David on first, Marisol on second, and Fucking Todd on third. Justin was stalking back over to their dugout after getting a (rather pitiful) strikeout.
If Ben could just get a decent kick, they could tie it up. And if Ben could get more, they’d clinch a win, the Lions’ first championship in, well, ever.
Arya really, really wanted to win.
“You got this, Ben!” Arya shouted. He whistled and smiled when Ben turned back to wave. He looked right at home in his Lions raglan, a plain white baseball cap turned backward to contain his hair. A little bit pooched out of the gap in front.
Arya couldn’t wait for some sweaty postgame sex.
He’d ask Ben to keep the hat on, maybe sit back on the couch like some self-absorbed jock bro while Arya went to town licking every bit of skin he possessed, mapping out the smooth parts of him, the veins, the places where he had some hair, sucking on those sensitive nipples of his—
Arya cleared his throat and shifted in his seat before Ramin noticed him getting an erection.
“You are such a goner,” Ramin said instead, bumping shoulders against Arya. “Love looks good on you.”
Arya rolled his eyes, but he smiled, too.
Love did look good on him. Better than he ever could have imagined.
At Arya’s feet, Simon perked up as Ben approached the plate.
“Your dad’s kicking,” Arya told her. She wagged her tail and wiggled her butt, like she wanted to take off and tackle Ben, but she kept herself planted, like she knew that would get them all in trouble.
Arya reached down to scratch the top of her head.
“I’m nervous, too, girl.”
She looked over her shoulder for a second, tongue lolling out, her goofy smile aimed squarely at him and Ramin.
“I might have to get her a cousin,” Ramin muttered. “Jake says we have to get a dog when we’re married. And I think he might be right.”
“Ben knows a great shelter,” Arya said automatically.
“I’ll get the name.”
Arya nodded absently as the Raytown Rainbows’ pitcher got a fastball past Ben. He groaned.
Strike one. That was fine. Ben had never played against the Rainbows before, but he was a quick study.
Except the next pitch was a curveball, skimming just outside Ben’s reach.
Strike two.
Damn.
Even if they didn’t win, it wasn’t the end of the world. They’d still have next season. And Arya would still have Ben. It was fine.
But he really wanted that fucking win.
“I love you, Ben!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Kick their asses!”
Arya blushed and glanced at Jake, but Ramin shrugged. “I’m sure he’s heard worse at school.”
“Still, sorry,” Arya said. He tried really hard not to swear in front of Jake.
Arya held his breath as the pitcher sent the ball rolling down the field, right at Ben. As Ben stepped forward, foot outstretched, and—
DOOMPH.
Ben connected, sending the ball sailing, low and long, barely skimming the outstretched hands of the Rainbows’ third base.
“Go!” Arya shouted, standing and throwing his arms in the air. Simon stood, too, barking in excitement. Ramin laughed and joined them, standing and cheering as the Lions ran. Arya vaguely registered Todd clearing home.
Tied.
The Rainbows were still chasing down the ball as Marisol cleared home, and they’d done it, they’d won, but the Rainbows were still too slow as David cleared home, and Ben was still running like the wind, arms pumping, legs like lightning, and Arya had never seen anything more beautiful than his boyfriend rounding home plate and throwing his arms up as the team rushed him, hugging him and hoisting him in the air.
Arya barely even cared that Justin was in the pile. He picked his way over the grass to his team as they whooped and hollered and jumped.
Ben broke away from the crowd just as Arya approached. He smiled, bright as the sun, and wrapped Arya in a sweaty hug.
“We won!” he said. “We—”
But Arya cut him off with a kiss.
After, the Lions posed with the league championship trophy—a handmade thing that consisted of a kickball spray-painted gold and affixed to a wooden base—and Ben never left Arya’s side. Or Arya never left his.
The only time they stopped holding hands was when Ben dropped Arya’s to point.
“When did that happen?”
Arya’s eyebrows shot up.
Justin and Todd were holding hands as they headed toward the parking lot.
“Holy shit,” Arya said.
“Heartbreaking: The worst person you know is dating the other worst person you know,” Ben joked.
Arya snorted. Well, even Fucking Todd and Fucking Justin deserved love, he supposed.
Ben took his hand again, pulled him in for another kiss.
“So. How do you feel, Mister Champion?”
Arya laughed and rested his forehead against Ben’s a second, then leaned back to smile at him.
“You know what? I feel young.”