“You and your oldies,” he murmurs. “I liked that. Can I have more?”
Like that’s even a question. As accused, you are a huge fan of songs from the beginning of the 20th century. You love almost all music (it’s in your DNA, you’re pretty sure), but you think this sort of thing is just right for the moment. So you riffle through your mental catalogue of romantic standards, doing your best Ella and Frank and Nat King Cole as you sing him “Stardust” and “Stormy Weather.” You follow that up with “A Sunday Kind ofLove,” and notice that, under your palm, his breathing is slowing and growing even. He may already be asleep, but you dare not stop to check. So you choose one last song, singing it to the silence of the room. Quietly, so as not to bother your neighbors.
Why do I do just as you say?
Why must I just give you your way?
Why do I sigh?
Why do I try to forget?
It must have been that something lovers call fate
Kept on saying I had to wait
I saw them all
Just couldn't fall till we met
It had to be you, it had to be you
I wandered around and finally found the somebody who
Could make me be true, could make me be blue
And even be glad just to be sad thinkin' of you
By the last verse, your questions have been answered, as Kai is softly snoring, which he does from time to time. Tentatively, you stop rubbing his back and cuddle close to him, breathing in his essence and being warmed by his body. Your throat is scratchy and dry, as, even as a professional singer, you aren’t accustomed to giving acapella concerts at a moment’s notice without any warm-up, but you are too cozy to reach over him again for the travel jug of cold water on the nightstand. It feels like you two exist in the hazy, dreamy confines of a magic spell, an invisible cocoon sheltering you from the outside world. From the somewhat-scratchy sheets and hum of the air conditioner, from the heavy anxiety hanging in the air on the Cyclones’ floor, from the crowds outside ready to party the night away. Nobody’s listening, but, under your breath, you whisper the very end of the song.
For nobody else gave me a thrill
With all your faults, I love you still
It had to be you, wonderful you, it had to be you
***
In the end, the Mega Bowlisn’tlike any other game. It’s actually, improbably, easier.
Levi Stadium contains 65,000 ticketholders, which includes your box stuffed to the rafters with most of the major members of the nuclear Reinhart clan, Maeve, your parents and Noemi, Kai’s friends Steve and “Powder,” (that can’t be his real name, right?) and Steve’s fiancée, Andi. Noemi brought an equally-shy friend—anything to get her attending comfortably, you reasoned—and it seemed rude not to allow Maeve a plus-one when flying across the country, which turned out to be her cousin, Pearl. At the last minute, with exactly one ticket left to your name, you called Gabi. The suite is at capacity for fire code, so your bodyguards have to stay elsewhere. They don’t love it, but you insist. The Covelli contingent is next door, along with a bunch of the other WAGs, and Jamie keeps annoying security by bopping over for hugs and selfies. The food and drinks are flowing, the company is excellent, and it feels so much like a victory to you that, amazingly, the outcome of the game is almost, but not quite, an afterthought.
The Cyclones, however, turn out to not require your nerves or hyperfocus.
There’s no word for what the Commodores do besides “wilt.” From the first possession, Miami’s defense balls out, stalling any progress that Washington even thinks about making. Each and every Cyclone ison fire.Nyko and Derrick play equal amounts of snaps, which seems to indicate to you that Derrick’s tenure asthe Jedi master to Nyko’s Padawan is just about over. The kid is a star, and no mistake about it. After scoring Miami’s third unanswered touchdown in a row, Derrick looks directly up at your box, makes eye contact over levels of screaming fans, and blows you a kiss. It’s a level of audacity that you can’t help but laugh at, even as Gabi and Pearl, mystified, ask you what that meant. Jameson’s swagger is on full display, and his end zone dances are even louder and more energetic than normal. You foresee fines in his future, but doubt he gives a shit. Dettweiler misses a field goal and an extra point, which doesn’t affect Miami’s dominance of the game, so it’s almosttoo good.
And Kai… Kai gets three sacks on Washington’s QB, and runs a fumble in for a touchdown. You scream your throat hoarse, and your hearing kind of whites out for a moment at the roar of the small knot of loved ones in the suite. In the second half, Coach puts Books in for most of the action, and he goes feral on the hapless O-line. It would be a bravura performance if Kai hadn’t just set a Mega Bowl record for successful pass-rushing, but neither Kai nor Books seem to care. At one point, after Books comes off the field, Kai slaps him atop the helmet and screams joyfully in his face, which you figure is the NFA equivalent of agood job, kiddo.
At the end, it’s an absolute blowout. The final score is 43 - 17, and the only reason Washington even scrapes together that many points is because Coach Beausoleil pulled all the Cyclones’ starters in the 4th quarter. The timer hits double zeroes, and green and gold confetti rains through the air. Down on the field, Jameson and Cordy douse Coach in blue Gatorade. Kai’s mom issobbing. Security has given up on trying to maintain division between your box and the one next door. Fighting through a sea of your loved ones, you get to Jamie, and literally jumpup and down as you hug. The kissing, crying, and overjoyed pandemonium goes on for a long time.
By the time you are escorted down to the field, they’re setting up the dais for speeches and the presentation of the championship trophy. Kai’s wearing a Cyclones Mega Bowl Champions hat and t-shirt, his jersey thrown over his shoulder. It falls to the confetti-scattered turf when he kisses you. From the stands, which are still thick with singing, cheering Miami fans, screams and wolf whistles go up like flares. Camera phones don’t have flashes, but you see them behind your eyelids anyway. Kai’s sweaty and covered in grass stains, but you couldn’t care less.
There’s no such thing as a private moment for a star defensive end who just helped his team win a Mega Bowl, however, and your reunion is cut short by a reporter sticking a mic in Kai’s face.
“Kaius! The Train!” she starts, yelling to be heard. You canhearthe exclamation marks on everything she says. “Mega Bowl champs! What do you have to say to the naysayers who said that you were washed, and doubted that you would snap back from your injury this season?!”
Kai laughs. “I say that actions speak louder than words,” he replies.
“How does it feel to be part of this squad thatfinallycinched the deal?! You guys have been waiting for this moment for so long! So many seasons coming so close! Is it a complete dream?!”
