I pause, remembering Cecilia’s suggestion the other day. “Cecilia had this idea. She mentioned we might need something to help us bond more. Like, maybe a team BBQ or something before the game this weekend. What do you think?”
Julio raises an eyebrow, mulling it over. He’s silent for a beat, his eyes scanning the ground as he thinks. I can almost see the gears turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons. “Not a bad idea, actually. Could be exactly what we need to loosen everyone up. I’ll talk to Coach, see if we can set something up.”
“That’d be solid,” I say, relieved he’s on board. It's not like a BBQ is going to magically fix everything, but maybe some off-field bonding is what we need. Something’s got to give. “We can keep it low-key, maybe grill at the soccer house.” We don’t usually invite people outside of our crew over, but I think in this instance, we can make an exception.
Julio nods, then tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “Team-only thing, or do we let the guys bring a plus one?”
Fuck. My mind immediately goes to Asher and Adam. Shit. I’m not ready for that.
“What do you think?” I ask, deciding to take the decision out of my own hands. If J wants team only, then the decision is made. If he’s cool with plus-ones … nah. He’s going to say team only. It’s one thing to have them in our space. We might not all be best buds. But we at least know one another. No way is Julio going to be cool with literal strangers just?—
“Let’s do plus ones,” he decides. “If we want the team to jell, they need to feel like we accept not only them but the people they care about.”
That knot in my chest tightens. I swallow hard but manage a nod. “Yeah. Cool. I’ll uh— I’ll get with our boys and we’ll grab groceries and shit this week while you figure out logistics and notify the team.”
“Sounds good.”
My phone buzzes again. Dad’s name flashes across the screen, and my stomach dips.
“I’ll catch you later,” Julio says as I bring my phone to my ear.
“Yeah. Later,” I mutter, watching Julio jog off before I answer the call.
“Hello?” I answer, still getting used to the fact that my dad actually calls me now. We’ve talked a little here and there since my mom’s wedding but I’m still always taken off guard when he calls. Like it’s some foreign and unexpected thing.
“Gabriel,” his voice comes through, sounding tired but casual. “Just wanted to check in. How’s everything going?”
“No complaints,” I say, stepping out of the way of a group of freshmen headed for the dining hall. “Classes are classes. Soccer’s been kicking my ass lately, though. The usual.”
He chuckles, the sound short and quiet, but it’s there. “Yeah, well, that’s what you signed up for, isn’t it?”
“Guess so,” I reply, smirking at the sarcasm lacing his words.
“What about you? Work still crazy?” We tiptoe around the deeper shit. And we fully avoid topics that include Carlos or mymom. I haven’t wholly forgiven my father, but I can’t say I hate him anymore, either. Our relationship is complicated, but he's trying. And that’s more than he’s done before.
“It’s always crazy,” he answers, and I can practically hear him leaning back in his chair, probably rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s stressed. “But I’ve been making time. I uh … I went on a date last weekend.”
I blink, not sure if I heard him right. Dad went on a date? Weird, but ... good, weird. Right? Mom went and found someone else already so I mean, why shouldn’t he? “Yeah? How was it?”
“Good,” he says, and I can hear his breath of relief through the phone. “We did dinner and a movie. Your old man’s a little rusty, but I think it went well.”
I laugh—because what else can I do? “Give it time, that rust will fall off real quick.”
We chat a little longer, nothing deep, but casual and easy in a way that feels new between us. He asks me about the upcoming game. How things with Cecilia and me are going. He’s trying, I realize. Really trying to make an effort, and for once, I don’t feel like brushing him off.
“I’ll see you at the game this weekend, right?” I ask, leaning against my bike. The matte black CBR 1000 rests under the sun like a shadow, its sleek lines swallowing the light. He’s mentioned coming before, but I’ve learned not to expect much.
My pops hasn’t been to a single game at PacNorth, and in high school, he barely made it to any of those. But hearing him say, “Wouldn’t miss it,” settles something inside me.
“Cool. I’ll see you, then.”
“Take care, Gabriel,” he says.
“You too.”
I hang up, staring at my phone for a second longer than necessary. That conversation wasn’t earth-shattering, but ... it was good. It was something.
Throwing my leg over my bike, I rev the engine, the familiar rumble vibrating through me. As I pull out of the parking lot, my thoughts drift back to Asher and Adam, the BBQ, and what the hell it’s going to be like having them there. But then I think about Dad, about how he’s trying to patch things up.
