38. Ari
THIRTY-EIGHT
ARI
Admittedly, I know next to nothing about football. I have a very basic knowledge of the basic rules and how the game is played, but half the time I lose track of the ball and have no idea what’s happening, and Naz has to relay what’s going on.
But it is an exciting game. Before halftime, Luc’s team, The Cyclones , were twelve points behind.
Luc’s best friend Shawna, who I love immediately, explained to me that it’s statistically very unlikely for a team to come back and win a game going into halftime with that much of a deficit.
But in the end, they did the damn thing.
The Cyclones win the game by four points after a really cute guy named Dez Carter intercepted the ball near the end zone with only twenty seconds left on the clock.
I thought for sure the game was over, but it’s surprising how much time twenty seconds is when the clock starts and stops.
In two plays, the team pulled off a touchdown with seconds to spare.
Confetti shoots everywhere, players rush the field, coaches shake hands, and the whole team is celebrating their first ever championship season.
The whole team except Luc Martín, that is. No one is exactly sure where he and Jesse ran off to, but Shawna makes a pretty crass joke about what they’re probably getting up to. Mr. Martín, Luc’s dad, rolls his eyes and tells her to behave like she’s his daughter too.
One of Luc’s teammates, a handsome guy with deep tan skin and curly black hair, runs over to where the group of us have congregated on the sidelines closest to the tunnel to our dressing room.
I think I remember meeting him at the concert in New York that he used to basically trap Luc because he saw him on TV.
I can’t remember his name, but the way he looks at Shawna can only be described as an excited labrador puppy who thinks she has a treat for him. It’s adorable and hilarious. Shawna doesn’t seem to notice, though.
“Hey Shawna! Hey— Hi— It’s me, AJ. Uh, León... Luc’s best friend. On the team, of course. Because you’re his best-best friend…” He trails off, looking like he’d like the ground to swallow him.
“AJ, seriously, we’ve met like a dozen times. I know who you are,” she says in her sassy accent, and he perks right back up. He’s actually beaming.
“Wow,” Will says right next to me.
“Right?” I’m so amused right now.
Shawna’s eyebrow raises, looking at AJ pointedly and moving her hand in a get on with it motion.
“Oh! Um— Have y’all seen Luc?” He looks around the group of us, in case his beast of a friend might be hiding behind one of us. He gives Luc’s younger sisters a wave while they’re talking to Naz just a few feet behind where Blake is chatting with Mr. Martín.
“Nah. He’s off fuckin’ somewhere.”
“Shawna.”
She has the decency to look at least a little genuine when she cringes and apologizes to Mr. Martín.
“Oh. Well, if you see him… You know what. I’ll just send him a text. And I absolutely will not go to his house without letting him know first.”
“Is he telling her or talking to himself?” Will asks me under his breath.
I shrug. I don’t know, but I am highly entertained. Who knew a stoic guy like Luc had such fun friends?
“They’ve been gone since halftime,” I say, looking at Blake. “Are we even sure they’re still here?”
Blake actually smiles. “As long as they don’t get photographed doing whatever it is they’re doing, I don’t even care. I think maybe tonight was a turning point. Maybe we can start moving away from the drama and getting back to the music.”
Mr. Martín makes an affirmative “ hmmph ” sound, and it occurs to me that both Luc’s dad and his sisters are probably aware of what’s out there in the media about him. God, I hope they didn’t see it. It was hard to avoid for a little while there.
“Are we sure that’s the right way to go?”
Blakes shoulders droop. “What could you possibly mean by that?” He looks deflated, like he’s waiting for Will to tell him some bad news.
“I just mean that we’ve been lying low and not fighting back for a while now.
At first it was because we didn’t know where it was coming from, and then it was to keep things a little quieter for Jesse and Luc.
Which, let’s face it, was completely ineffective.
I think we’ve been going about this whole thing the wrong way. ”
“It’s not as if we’re doing nothing,” Blake says, crossing his arms. “Legal has filed charges against the blogger, and cease and desist letters have been sent to every media outlet still sharing the videos.” He cuts his eyes to Luc’s dad, obviously feeling as awkward as I do talking about this in front of him.
“None of that matters and you know it,” Will says, mirroring Blake’s posture.
“For fuck’s sake, the president of the United States of America was convicted of thirty-four felonies and has faced zero consequences.
The so-called Department of Justice redacted the names of politicians and powerful figures and released the names of dozens of victims instead. ”
Blake frowns. I’m sure he can see what Will’s point is going to be as well as I can, but he lets Will continue.
“You’re trying to fix things behind the scenes and do things professionally, which is respectable. But we’re getting killed in a dirty game played by dirty people.”
“He’s right,” Naz says, coming to stand on Will’s other side, making us a united front. Minus Jesse, of course.
“So what do you think we should be doing?” Blake asks calmly.
“I think we should fight back. We need to do more, get louder and stay louder. Look at how much things have progressed just since the beginning of the year. People are being detained without due process. Families are being separated. Rights are being stripped quietly and publicly at the same time. It’s our duty to stand up and say something that people will listen to. ”
I nod. “Nobody is suggesting that we can save the world, but maybe we can open people’s eyes. Raise awareness. Encourage people to vote, to call their senators, to speak out and protect their neighbors.”
“You’ve already struck a nerve—” Blake starts, but Naz cuts him off.
“How much worse could it get? Jesse and Luc are out now. The damage is done, and they managed to get through it.”
“Not unscathed,” Blake points out.
“Meh, Luc is fine,” Shawna says with a dismissive hand wave.
“Yeah, and you know, I think quite a few guys from the team would probably be on board if there’s anything we can do to help.
I’m not the only son of immigrants on the team, and a lot of us have queer friends and family.
And Treydon, well, he just likes pissing off politicians, honestly. ” AJ chimes in.
“Oh, I love that guy,” Will says. “We had a great chat when you all came out to that game in New York.”
“Yeah man, you know he’d be up for some trouble.” AJ throws up his hand, and he and Will do one of those hand-shake bro-hugs that I could never pull off.
“You know I’m in,” Naz says.
I grin up at Will. “Me too. Obviously.”
“Me three!” Shawna chimes in.
“We just have to get Jesse on board, but I don’t think it’ll be an issue,” I say.
I’m sure he’s looking forward to more time with Luc now that the season is over, but he knows what’s important, and if I know our friend as well as I think I do, I know he’s itching to get out more now that they don’t have to hide.
Naz claps his hands. “Okay, so, what do we think about a mini resistance tour? A little performance art outside some of the ICE facilities?”
“We could start in Minneapolis.”
“Oh, we should get the Waves app people on board again,” I say.
All three of us start talking at once, excitedly throwing out ideas. AJ gets in on it, and Shawna throws out an idea or two. Even one of Luc’s sisters, Georgia, pitches in an idea about graffiti-style pop art.
“We should write a song just for this, and donate the proceeds to a legal aid fund,” I say, already thinking of some lines that might work. I pull out my phone to make some notes
“I love that,” Will says, absentmindedly pulling me against his side, squeezing me excitedly.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Blake calls out. “Slow the hell down! You can’t just run off and do whatever you want,” he says, throwing his hands up.
I feel my blood heat a little as I stare him directly in the eyes like he is out of his mind.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I say, pointing up at him.
“We are done playing the label’s game. No more hiding.
No more backing down. We have the power here—you told us that.
We have a platform, and we’re going to use it.
If the label doesn’t like it, I’m sure we can find someone else that would want to amplify our message instead of stifling us. ”
Blake clears his throat, patiently waiting for me to finish like a smug, condescending bastard.
“For the biggest impact, we need a little coordination and planning—clear messaging, a structured press rollout, proper permits and coordination with local law enforcement. I’ve already shot a message to Kit Quinley from the Waves app about partnering with them and help vetting potential partnerships with legal aid groups.
” My mouth snaps shut. “You’ve got a good idea here,” Blake says kindly.
“But let me work on some logistics so we can do this the right way.”
“Oh. Yeah… Okay,” I say, smiling apologetically for laying into him like that. “Sorry,” I whisper, a little embarrassed. He chuckles and winks.
Mr. Martín clears his throat. “You, uh, might do with some voter registration booths.”
Talia, Luc’s youngest sister, beams up at her father. “Daddy…” she says, as if prompting him.
He hmmphs again, then looks down at his daughters. “I think I could be interested in a little good trouble , if you need some help with that.” His daughters and Shawna all coo at him, and I swear my heart grows a little.
“So that’s what a father is supposed to be like,” I murmur.
Will goes still beside me. The tension in his posture has me turning to look up at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Please remind me to talk to you about Don,” he says, looking supremely uncomfortable. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
I cock an eyebrow. “He dead?”
Will gives me a sad look. “Unfortunately, not.”
“What’s going on?”
He huffs, looking pained. “We should probably get Blake in on this conversation.”
Well, that doesn’t sound good.
“I’m so sorry,” Will repeats for probably the hundredth time. “I should have never kept it from you. The longer I didn’t say anything, the harder it felt to get the words out.”
I look at Blake. “I honestly thought it was going to be a lot worse.”
“Not me. We do not need another press nightmare.”
“At least there aren’t any videos or actual proof of us sleeping together,” I say, shrugging innocently.
“True.”
“Wait. You aren’t mad?”
I tilt my head towards Will. “You’re an idiot, and keeping that from me was bullshit.
Giving him anything from the beginning was stupid, and going to his house and threatening him was even stupider.
But I understand where your heart was. And—” I say, holding up my hand to let him know I am not finished.
“I know that you are actively working on working through your control issues. So I don’t expect that you’re going to keep anything else from me. Right?”
“Right. I promise.”
Nodding curtly, I turn back to Blake. “Right. So, what can we do about this? Anything?”
Blake moves his eyes from me to Will, then back again. “That was surprisingly functional,” he says dryly.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling broadly. “We’re a work in progress. But we’re both working on progress, and he’s super hot, so it’s worth it.”
Blake's eyes flutter shut, and he shakes his head. “I take it back.” He stands and walks to his office door to escort us out. Apparently, our meeting is over. “I will look into this with legal, and I will let you know. Will, if you could send me that recording?”
Will nods and pulls his phone from this pocket. I hear the ping of a notification on Blake’s laptop.
Inside the car on the way home, Will reaches over to take my hand again. “I really am sorry.” He brings my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss into my palm. Goosebumps pop up along my forearm.
“How sorry?” I tease, cutting my eyes towards the front of the car to confirm that the divider is completely opaque.
Will unbuckles his seat belt and slides to his knees, maneuvering himself in front of me. Even in the face-to-face configuration of the SUV, he doesn’t have much room to spread out.
He starts at my throat, slow and deliberate, like he’s mapping his way to the forgiveness I’ve already given him.
His mouth trails lower, over my collarbone, down the center of my chest, pausing just long enough to make me impatient.
When he tugs up the hem of my hoodie and presses his lips against bare skin, I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath all day.
“Sorry enough to grovel.”