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“The one where I’m shirtless and holding a soccer ball?”
“Football, and yes.” I bite my bottom lip. “I called earlier, as soon as I realized. They can’t swap submissions at this point in the process. Either I withdraw or…”
“Or?”
“Or there’s a chance I could win. Not a big chance because they receive thousands of submissions and a lot of those are from talented veterans who know exactly what they’re doing instead of a university student who sent in a shirtless photo of her boyfriend by accident. But there’s a chance, so I felt like I had to tell you. I’ll withdraw it, if you want, and then there’s no?—”
“Don’t withdraw.”
“Are you sure?” I search his expression. “If I miraculously win, this contest is a big deal. In certain circles anyway. Our names will be linked in the press. Kluvberg will definitely hear about?—”
“About how I’m your boyfriend?”
I feel the heat in my cheeks, radiating like twin suns. I was hoping he’d missed that slip of the tongue. “That’s what most people will assume.”
“I don’t care about most people. I’m asking you.”
“Yes.”
He grins. “Good answer. Because I just told my brother I’m bringing my girlfriend to meet him next weekend.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
WILL
Ilook away from the swings creaking in the wind and glance over at Sophia. “This is where I learned to play soccer.”
We’re at the park in my neighborhood where I spent most of my childhood. It looks better than it did when I was a kid, but not by much. They put in a new playground with fresh wood chips, added a few new picnic tables. They must have swapped out the old soccer goals at some point because I don’t think that those would still be standing. But they’re no longer new, worn and weathered from the elements.
This whole place—the entire neighborhood—has seen better days.
I’m not embarrassed about having Sophia see it. Aside from visiting Tripp, my main motivation for taking this trip was showing her my world the same way I’ve gotten to know hers. She knows more about my childhood than guys I went to college with. More than my brother knows, even.
But standing beside her in this spot, I’m definitely aware of our different backgrounds. She’s used to much nicer places, and it’s vulnerable to show her my rougher parts. She wouldn’t be in the States, wouldn’t be in a park with a soccer field, if not for me. I’ve always disregarded other people’s opinions pretty easily. But hers is different. Hers matters to me.
Sophia says nothing as she stares at the field. Going to Seaport or Harvard Square would have been a lot more enjoyable for her.
“Let’s head back to the house,” I say. “We can?—”
“Let’s play some football.”
I blink at her. “What?”
Honestly, that’s the last thing I ever expected to hear her say.
“Let’s play. There’s a football right there by the swings.”
“What are you?—”
She’s already walking away, toward the soccer ball she spotted.
I follow her, still in a state of shock. My mom isn’t supposed to be home from work for another hour, and we both wanted some fresh air after being stuck on an airplane. This was the first place I thought to bring her to.
Sophia’s pulling her hair up into a ponytail when I reach her.
“You really don’t need to do this,” I tell her.
“I know I don’t. Just like you didn’t need to spend hours walking through galleries with me. I want to.”
