twenty-seven #2
It’s the first soccer match I have watched in years, and I don't remember ever having so much fun.
I can be myself when I am curled into Leo.
At first, our cuddling received some odd looks from Evan and Fletcher, but eventually they seemed to understand that something had shifted between us.
At some point, Daron gets up to make popcorn, coming back with three bowls. Leo then proceeded to throw the salty snack at the TV every time the opposing team scored a goal or had a good play, Fletcher quickly following suit, making both me and Evan giggle at their antics.
After the game, the boys decide to play Mario Kart.
Before today, you would have never convinced me that four six-foot-something mafia men would play Mario Kart.
But I guess they were all street kids at some point.
It’s probably nostalgic for them. I’m shocked by how quickly Nico is willing to play, obviously having played it before.
They all expertly maneuver the controllers, not even needing to look down at the buttons as they play.
They exchange good natured jabs when one person hits another with what I believe is some sort of tortoise shell.
I have never played a video game in my life and feel a little left out watching everyone.
“Do you want a turn next?” Leo asks after he wins the race. He looks at me when he doesn't get a response right away. I don't know how to answer. I am a little ashamed to admit that I don't exactly know how to play. I look down, hoping Leo gets the hint.
“Do you not know how to play?” Leo's voice is barely above a whisper, and I look up to see that Leo has leaned in closer so the others couldn’t hear him. I shake my head, not wanting to say the words out loud.
“Alright boys. Callisto is playing the next round. He’s never played this game before, so I’ll help him. He’ll be whooping your asses in no time with me as a teacher,” Leo says, his voice loud over the chatter of the room.
Fletcher bursts out laughing, rolling his eyes because he seems to be the most competitive out of everyone, next to Leo that is.
Before I know it, Leo has pushed the coffee table and discarded popcorn out of the way, and we are sitting together on the floor. I sit in the V of Leo's legs and nervously hold the controller, telling myself not to shake as Leo explains what each button does, patiently answering my questions.
After Leo is satisfied with my answers on the pop quiz about controllers, he decides I’m ready for my first race. I anxiously hold the controller as Leo wraps his warm arms around me, placing his hands over mine. When the race begins, Leo's fingers start to guide mine.
“Don’t fucking cheat you dick bag,” Leo shouts, not looking at Daron, who the words were apparently meant for. I look back at him for a split second, a smile playing over my lips. Leo continues to shout obscenities at his friends as he helps me play.
When I manage to finish third, Leo cheers as if he has won an Olympic gold medal. His happiness is infectious, and I maybe did win a gold medal because Leo is golden. I haven't won Leo, though. I will never get the chance.
“Not bad, Santos,” Fletcher says, with a huge grin, as if he’s just as proud of me for my achievement.
It means nothing. It’s just a video game, but for some reason it feels like so much more.
Is this what friendship feels like? There are no expectations.
I don't have to censor myself or feel like I’m joining a party I wasn’t invited to.
I can just be me, and maybe that’s who I’ve always been.
The answer to my question seems to have been simple all along. I’m me.
“Yeah. Not bad at all. We just need to work on your smack talk,” Leo agrees with a smile of his own.
A moment later, firm lips are on my cheek.
Leo has kissed me. I lightly touch my fingers to the spot his mouth had been, resisting the urge to swoon.
Instead, I laugh at Leo's jab, a sudden rush of pure happiness taking over.
I am flying. I didn't know I could fly, but Leo makes it possible.
Leo gives me wings, and I am on the verge of jumping into oblivion to test those wings out.
I don't want to think about the fact that I could die tomorrow, or I will probably never see Leo again. I want to fly for now.
“Ready to play without the training wheels?”
Leo asks, taking the controller Nico gives him.
I nod, but uncertainty churns my gut. Leo smiles, and for some reason that makes me think I can do it.
We reposition ourselves. I lay back against Leo's chest, my curls draping over Leo's shoulder.
Leo holds his controller right under mine.
We start the game between me, Leo, Evan, and Fletcher.
“You fucking asshole!” Fletcher exclaims when Leo releases a banana peel as soon as Fletcher drives up behind him.
This is my fourth game now, and I finally feel like I have some idea of what I’m doing.
It’s actually fun, and I am becoming competitive with it.
My goal is to beat Leo, which I haven’t done yet.
“Suck my dick, Morgan!” Leo shouts, moving with his driver, as if that will somehow help him. When my body follows Leo’s, I laugh.
“Gladly. I’ve been asking to for years,” Fletcher responds, and I’m not even a little bit phased by the comment.
I have come to learn that Leo and Fletcher flirt with each other.
It’s like they don’t even notice they are doing it, and they can’t help it.
Evan, however, accidentally drives his player off the rainbow road.
“Now boys, there is no need to bring the sucking of extremities into your smack talk. Keep it clean.”
I attempt to diffuse the situation. Leo smiles and rolls his eyes, but Evan still looks somewhat upset.
After another lap, my blood pumps with frustration and anger toward the game.
It’s impossible not to run off the side of the damn road.
“You’re a fucking asshole. Fuck you, Leo,” I exclaim when Leo purposefully hits me with a red tortoise shell to steal first place.
“Oh, my princess has a foul mouth all of a sudden. If you want to fuck me though, I’m up for it,” Leo responds, smirking at me.
I don't care about my language anymore. It was stupid of me to care about it in the first place.
These people aren’t going to judge me for saying certain words. I can say whatever I please.
“Sometimes, curse words are the only possible way to express oneself. If you wanted me to fuck you, Leonardo, all you had to do was ask.”
I drop my voice low and deep with my last statement, but my cheeks still heat with embarrassment.