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After the carousel, we get another round of drinks since I never picked up my cider and she tossed the wine, and she points out we have no pictures together and takes me to a photo booth.
She sits on my lap and wrapped in my arms as we take our series of four photos. A silly one, a kissing one, a completely unusable one where she’s blurry because I’m tickling her so much and she’s laughing, and a smiling one.
It’s perfect.
I get us two copies and give her one and keep the other in my wallet next to the one of my parents.
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35
Thayer
The week after Rhys asks me to be his girlfriend flies by. If I thought things would change once we became official, I was wrong.
And that’s mostly because we can’t spend more time together than we already were. Now that we are in a relationship though, there’s no getting out of it even if I wanted to.
If I do a movie night with the girls, he knocks on the door at midnight and marches straight to where I’m sitting on the chair. He picks me up and sits down, cradling me in his lap as he watches the movie silently.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t participate in the roommate debates we have (who’s hotter, Hugh Grant or Colin Firth?), he simply holds me and takes me to bed once we’re done.
If he goes to meetings for the trust he inherited, I’m usually waiting in the game room for him playing something with Bellamy, Rogue, and Phoenix.
I feel happy and settled.
“Holy shit, look at him go.” Six says, amazement clear in her voice. Her voice pulls me out of my reverie.
We’re sitting together, watching the boys’ last soccer match of the year. Six came with me to support Rhys. Or so she says, but I know she’s really watching Phoenix.
In fact, her eyes rarely seem to leave him, even when he doesn’t have the ball.
I look up and see that Rhys has possession of the ball and is running it down the field towards the opposing goal. He’s onside but quickly ditches the last defender, outrunning him as he approaches the box.
The goalie comes out but Rhys feigns to the left, then the right and moves the ball between his feet, gathering it back up once he clears him and shooting it into the net as the crowd erupts.
He starts lapping the pitch in victory as he brings his wrist up to his mouth and kisses what appears to be a pink bracelet on his wrist.
It’s my hair tie.
He kisses it and points to it before extending his arms out to the side in triumph. His teammates jump on him and congratulate him loudly, hooting and hollering as they do so.
With only two minutes left, it’s almost certain.
They just won the championship.
The bleachers are going wild, Six and I are jumping and screaming and hugging as we wait for the clock to run out on stoppage time.
They were far and away the best team and heavily favored to win, but you’re never sure if stats are going to hold up on the pitch.
That dream is almost reality now.
How amazing it must feel for him to win this trophy after everything he’s gone through with his parents and everything soccer has meant to him his whole life.
The whistle blows and I absolutely lose it, screaming so loudly my voice gets hoarse. The players and staff are celebrating in the middle of the field, hugging and thanking each other as they wait for the trophy to be brought out.
A student from the newspaper walks up to a scrum of players and calls for Rhys who ducks out of the huddle and over to her and her cameraman.
“Rhys, congratulations on the championship win,” she says, the feed being played on the big screen above the field, “It’s got to feel great.”
