Chapter 22 #2
I’m nervous to spend so much time with her without Nicky, because judging from how things have been with Nicky’s past girlfriends, there’s a good chance we’ll have the chemistry of two rocks.
Once, I went out for sandwiches with Nicky and his ex-girlfriend Cassie and Nicky had to take a phone call about a summer
internship. Those fifteen minutes sitting across the table from Cassie trying to make conversation were the longest fifteen
minutes of my life.
I’m grateful Luke is here with me, as a human buffer, but I’m not sure what to say about it to Mara. Nicky knows Luke is coming,
but knowing Nicky, he probably said something along the lines of “my sister is bringing a friend,” without any further explanation.
So while we’re texting about where to meet, I add, By the way, not sure if Nicky told you but . . . the friend who’s with me is Lucas Cordova. The actor. It’s a long story but I didn’t want
u to be surprised
Thanks for the heads up, but Nick already told me, she texts back. You Hoppers are full of surprises
We decide to meet near Gate C, where student seating is. I was planning on buying tickets, but Mara said she brought two friends’
IDs so we could swipe in and sit in the student section, since it would be more fun that way.
ME:
They don’t mind giving us their tickets?
MARA:
Lmao. No. Most of my friends are not exactly football enthusiasts
She describes what she’s wearing—a vintage silk souvenir jacket and combat boots—and tells me where she’ll be waiting.
As we walk, I see one or two people glance at Luke, in a wait, that can’t be who I think it is . . . ? sort of way, but no one approaches us.
When I see Mara, I’m . . . frankly, I’m shocked. She’s beautiful, obviously. It’s Nicky we’re talking about. But more than
that, she’s cool.
She’s shorter than me, with light brown skin and lustrous dark brown hair that’s pulled into a high ponytail, revealing a
shaved undercut. She’s got a nose ring through her septum and three or four ear piercings. From here I can see a few small
tattoos and stacks of silver rings on her fingers.
I feel like a plain vanilla cookie walking up to her.
But her coolness doesn’t translate to aloofness, because when I call out her name, she grins and comes over to give me a hug.
It doesn’t feel forced, either. It’s like she can’t help herself. She steps back but keeps her hands on my arms. “I’m so excited
that you’re here. Nick talks about you all the time.” Only then does she turn her attention to Luke. “Hi, Lucas Cordova. It’s
nice to meet you. You’re taller than I expected.”
He laughs. “Mara, right?”
“Yep.” She looks between me and Luke. “Did you guys plan this?”
“Plan what?” I ask.
“You’re matching. Hats, sunglasses, UConn hoodies. Like you’re trying to go undercover as college students.”
“That’s because we are trying to go undercover as college students,” I say, lifting the ID she handed me.
“Fair enough.”
Then she threads an arm through mine, and it seems like she is genuinely more excited to meet me than Luke, which is such
a nice feeling. “We should get moving if we want good seats.”
We swipe in without a problem. As we wait for the game to start, I realize I like Mara a lot, even though it’s only been,
like, twenty minutes. She’s easy to talk to, and it feels so natural being with her and Luke. She’s a musician, she grew up
in New Haven because her mom is a humanities professor at Yale, and both her parents are from El Salvador.
“El Salvador?” Luke says. “That’s where my grandpa’s from. Thus the Cordova.”
“You know, I had a feeling I would like you,” Mara says. “What’s your sign?”
“Like for astrology?”
“Yes,” Mara says.
“I’m pretty sure I’m a Libra. But I don’t know what that means.”
“He’s a textbook Libra,” I tell Mara.
“Makes sense.” Mara reaches out to pat Luke’s arm. “I’ve always liked charming boys.”
“I have no idea what either of you are talking about,” Luke says, which makes both me and Mara laugh.
We’re having such a nice time, I think, and then feel embarrassed at how earnest I am, even in the privacy of my own head.
“Speaking of your grandpa, how’s he doing? Is he still living in that spot on Sunset?”
Only now am I realizing that Luke skirted around the topic of his grandfather the other times we’ve talked about his family.
When we were little, Luke spent at least one night a week sleeping over at his grandpa’s apartment.
“No.” I can see Luke’s jaw muscles moving in his cheeks. “He passed away a while ago.”
I turn to him. “Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry. When?”
“A few months after Bricks ended. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
I think back. I think about the calls. Fourteen-year-old Luke calling and texting me, saying he wanted to talk. At the time
I assumed he just wanted to go on endlessly about the feature film he’d booked. Or that he wanted to talk about me, or the
rumors about my dad. Or maybe about how it had gotten weird between us. I ignored every single one.
But he wasn’t calling about any of that. He was calling because he needed a friend.
I was dealing with my own stuff at the time, that’s true.
But that’s not why I ignored his calls. I did it because I wanted to punish him for kissing me on a dare, for hurting my feelings so badly.
And if I’m being deeply honest here, for getting my hopes up that he liked me back.
But we were friends. Best friends. In my own way, I let him down.
“I’m so sorry, Luke,” I say, though I don’t think he understands the extent of what I’m apologizing for.
“Yeah, thanks. He was the best. My Spanish has gone to shit without him.”
“Si quieres, practicamos juntos,” Mara says.
Luke smiles. “Gracias.”
The game is stressful to watch.
UConn is behind in the first quarter, comes shooting back in the second, and then is down again in the third. It doesn’t help
that they’re playing UMass, one of their biggest rivals. Nicky is one of the only starting freshmen, which makes me feel prouder
than I probably should. Mom texts me through the entire game, Nicky being our common denominator. She asks for pictures when
Nicky’s on the field, about how Nicky looks, what’s the score, that she’s sneaking away to watch the game on her phone every
chance she gets.
“My nerves can’t handle this anymore,” Mara mutters. She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a pink, light blue, and
white bedazzled flask. “Blackberry-infused tequila, anyone?”
“Can’t. I’m driving,” I say, not that I would even if I wasn’t. Especially around Luke. Not after the fool I made of myself last time.
“Yes, but I can’t drink out of that,” Luke says.
“Why? Are you a germ freak?” Mara asks.
Luke laughs. “No.” He motions around. “If anyone’s filming us, it would be bad optics. ‘Lucas Cordova, drinking underage at
a college football game’ and all that. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
I feel a jolt at that. Right. Luke is famous. His hat and glasses help, but I can tell at least a couple of people around
us have been glancing at him more than a normal amount. No one has come over yet, though. It’s made this moment, this day,
feel more uniquely ours.
“I have an idea. I’m going to get us some lemonade,” he says. “That would be good with the tequila, right?”
“Yes. Yum,” Mara says.
Luke makes his way out, and as soon as he does, Mara turns to me and says, “Okay. So he’s your friend? Or your friend?”
She gives me a look, and I can only laugh. “You’re worse than Nicky. And he’s my friend. The first one. Without the googly
eyes. We go way back. Chess team.”
“Whatever you say,” Mara adds in a singsongy voice.
Someone taps on my shoulder. I turn around to see two girls.
“Ask her,” one urges the other.
“So that’s not . . . Lucas Cordova with you, is it?”
I feel a sense of acute loss that this experience is about to become public instead of private.
The ripple of news will spread. But before I can confirm, Mara jumps in.
“No. His name’s Tom. He’s a professional look-alike.
He goes to, like, Vegas conventions and everything.
You should ask him about it. Cool, right? ”
I smile. I like her so much.