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“Me too. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see it in person after graduation,” I tell her, retrieving my ticket from my wallet. Cricket digs in her purse, pulling out her cell phone and bringing up her own ticket. When I purchased my ticket, I had the choice of an electronic ticket, but didn’t pick that option. I’d rather pay the small processing fee and receive a physical paper ticket in the mail, I’m probably the only human alive that feels that way, but knowing what I know about computers and hackers, I’d rather not take the chance.
Our tickets are scanned and Cricket’s bag is quickly searched. Moments later, we’re finally inside the mostly metal interior of our alma mater’s new football stadium. Of course, to everyone who lives here or attends school, it’s not new. It’s now ten years old. But to us, the students who left school two months before it opened, this is kind of a big deal for us.
“This place is pretty dope, right?”
I glance over my shoulder and find Danny still keeping up with us. I thought maybe we’d part ways, but that didn’t happen. Instead, Danny insisted we share a taxi. Now, we’re entering the stadium with them hot on our heels. “Uh, yeah, it’s a nice upgrade,” I reply, glancing up at the steel beams and the posters of past players.
“I need a pretzel with cheese. Lots of cheese,” Cricket says, pulling on my arm. “We’ll see you guys around,” she adds, hollering over her shoulder to Danny and Ellen. “God, I thought we’d never get rid of them.”
I snort a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re still hungry,” I say as we enter the line for one of the food vendors.
“I’m not, but I needed a break from their kissy kissy faces.”
“Kissy kissy faces?” I ask, unable to mask my smile.
“You know, the over-the-top googly eyes and almost awkwardly fake kissing? They can’t keep their lips off each other,” she says as the line slowly starts to move us forward.
“Isn’t that how new love is supposed to be?” I find myself asking, pulling my wallet from my back pocket.
She shrugs. “I guess. It’s just weird, right? Neither one of them said anything about the other yesterday, but now they’re all over each other and throwing around closed-mouth kisses like they’re kissing their grandma.”
We step up to the counter and I order a pretzel with cheese and two bottles of water. “Umm, I hate to break it to you, but aren’tweall over each other?”
Cricket stops and looks up at me, considering my words. Then she cocks her head slightly to the side and says, “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel awkward and fake with us. Do you think they can tell?”
Now it’s my turn to consider her words as I hand over twenty dollars, the pretzel and cheese and bottles of water almost eating up the entire bill. That kiss last night was pretty fucking amazing, and if I were watching it from the sidelines, I wouldn’t think it was someone pretending to be in a relationship. I’d see a couple who was unable to keep their hands—and mouths—off each other. “No, I don’t think they can tell. First off, they give each other these weird pecks on the lips,” I say, grabbing both bottles of water from the counter and muttering a quick thank you to the workers. As we turn to head toward our seating area, I lean in and add, “Last night, we were all tongue.”
Cricket gasps beside me, her face turning a beautiful shade of pink. She looks at me and smiles a knowing little grin. “True, we were.” As we head to the area for alumni, she glances my way and adds, “So, what we’re saying is our faking is way better than their faking, because I’m honestly not sure I believe they’re dating.”
“I would agree with that assessment. I’m not one hundred percent sure they’re in a relationship either, but I am holding out on making my final vote on that topic.”
“I can respect that,” she says as we step out onto the concrete stairs and look down at the field. “I think we’re over here,” she points just off to the left, where a large section of seating is roped off for alumni.
As we approach, we find small groups of seats still open. Our tickets don’t actually have seat numbers on them. The idea was to be able to mix and mingle with former classmates and teammates, catch up while watching the football game.
Cricket points to a few seats. “This okay?”
I nod, the noise around us pretty loud as I take in the ambiance. The team is on the field, warming up, and there’s a buzz of excitement from the crowd. As I drop into a seat, I do see a few recognizable faces that grab my attention. A name jumps out at me for a tall, skinny guy with shaggy dark hair, while the others look familiar, yet I can’t put a name to the face.
Off to the side, I see Danny. He’s down along the railing, talking to someone from the coaching staff. Ellen is there, twirling her hair and occasionally glancing down at her nails. She’s wearing a tight SIU Salukis shirt, one that may have come from the kid’s department. Sure, I notice. I’m a guy. And not dead. But I’ll take Cricket’s brand of beauty over Ellen’s in-your-face glamour any day.
Speaking of Cricket, she chose a fitted tee in maroon, but with a little more wiggle room in it. It forms nicely to her curves, but doesn’t give it all away, if you know what I mean. She’s wearing a pair of jean capris and cute white shoes. Even though we were under the gun this morning on time, she still straightened her hair and put on a little makeup. She looks stunning, making my dick twitch its approval in my pants, much like it did this morning when she stepped out of my bathroom ready to go.
We watch a few moments of pregame festivities until the man I recognized as Dylan Haskins heads our way. “Hey, Rueben Rigsby, right?” he says, extending his hand.
“Yeah, good to see you Dylan,” I reply, placing my hand in his.
“I was hoping I’d run into you this weekend. How have you been?” he asks, taking the empty seat beside me.
“Good, yourself?”
“Can’t complain,” he says, glancing around, as if to monitor how closely the crowd is. “Listen, I have something I wanted to pitch to you. An idea the company I work for has. It might be right up your alley.”
I consider his words for a moment as I take a drink of my water. “Like a job offer?”
Dylan shrugs. “Quite possibly. You available to talk? I know we have the alumni dinner tonight,” he says, glancing over my shoulder to Cricket, “and I’m sure you have plans.”
With Cricket. That’s what he’s insinuating, and in a way, he’s right. Though we have nothing concrete, we’re supposed to be dating, so it would be assumed we’d schedule things to do together with our downtime.
