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TWENTY-ONE
SOPHIA
Dinner is awkward. Involving Noah in this evening was a terrible idea for reasons I hadn’t even considered when I impulsively decided to invite him. He’s hardly spoken a word since we arrived, even when my mom has tried to engage him in conversation. He’s trying to act cool about being around my family, I think, and he seems to have taken it to the extreme of a near-catatonic state.
Despite his silence, I’m uncomfortably aware of Noah sitting beside me. Just like I’m painfully conscious of Will’s presence on the opposite side of the table. Having a date here doesn’t make me feel any better about seeing him. It makes me feel worse.
Will standing in the living room of Adler and Saylor’s penthouse was a shock. For many reasons, not the least of which was that I’d decided I’d never see him again. Not up close anyway. I still have one more football game to photograph before Alex takes it back over.
No one gave me any heads-up that Will would be here. Adler’s had teammates over before. But those are usually larger group gatherings, and those are guys he’s played with for years, like Otto.
I’m guessing Saylor was the motivating factor. She sacrificed living near her friends and family after she and Adler got engaged. Moved halfway across the world for him and embraced a foreign country. She’s carved out her own community here, but I’m sure she must miss home. Will’s another person who understands what that culture shock must be like.
They’ve been chatting animatedly like old friends all night. Not surprising. Not only are they both Americans who adore soccer, but they also have similar outgoing personalities. They seem to know lots of the same people as well, swapping stories and making each other laugh while I down most of a bottle of wine.
I’m seated directly across the table from Will, stuck in the uncomfortable situation of not looking at him while not making it obvious that I’m avoiding looking at him. No one here knows that we’ve met before tonight, and I’d absolutely like to keep it that way. It’s surprisingly hard, treating Will like a stranger. My attention is automatically drawn in that direction. Twice, I have to forcibly shut my mouth instead of responding to something he says.
I help myself to another serving of roasted veggies, then offer the plate to Noah. He shakes his head, so I set the dish back on the table.
“Are you okay?” I mutter under my breath.
I might be regretting bringing him, but at least I was right about him drawing attention off of me. No one has asked me anything all meal. Will hasn’t spared one glance at me since we sat down, acting like our conversation in the kitchen never happened.
“Oh, yeah, I’m great,” Noah replies. He leans back, to the point of almost toppling himself, then rights the chair with a red face.
I nod and then look back at my plate so he doesn’t catch my eye roll.
We’re eating dessert when the conversation turns, unfortunately, toward me. Well, half me.
“How did you two meet?” Adler asks, gesturing between me and Noah with his fork.
I’m surprised he’s asking. He rarely makes much of an effort to get to know the guys I bring around. One guy I dated shortly before starting university, Karl, was particularly unpopular among my family. Adler jokes it’s because he knows I’ll kick them to the curb soon enough, but I think he’s aware why Noah has stayed silent most of the night. Setting aside the fame and football, Adler inherited our dad’s intimidating face. Most guys can’t actually keep their cool around him; they just pretend to.
Some guys can though. Will’s expression is carefully impassive, his head tilted to the side as he waits for the response, like everyone else.
Noah replies before I can, fumbling nervously, “We-we ran into each other, uh, getting drinks one night. Then, um, went to a friendly match together before Sophia got too busy with–with school.”
That answer earns a variety of reactions around the table. Saylor’s eyebrows rise when she realizes Noah’s the same guy I told her about a few weeks ago. Adler and my parents look surprised, probably that I went to a Kluvberg scrimmage and didn’t tell any of them. But Will’s reaction is the one I home in on. His expression is stony as he looks down at his plate. But I catch the pulse of a muscle in his jaw before he reaches for his water glass and takes a sip. I take that to mean he’s put together that Noah’s the guy I was avoiding the day we met.
It shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t care. He rejected me, told me we would never work.
“It was fun,” I say.
Noah beams, the most animated he’s looked all night. Adler shakes his head a little, but says nothing.
“So, Will.”
I glance at my dad, startled, as soon as he speaks. He usually stays mostly silent during these dinners, chiming in on the conversation sometimes but rarely instigating it.
Will glances at me before looking at my dad. “Yes, sir?”
My dad’s chest puffs up in response to Will’s respectful tone even though he’d never admit he cared about it. “Interesting start to the season.”
“Terrible start to the season.”
Adler’s mouth presses into a thin line, but he doesn’t dispute Will’s words. So far, this season has gone about the same as the last couple. Adler would never admit it, but I think football has become secondary to him. He still loves it, but he doesn’t have the same intensity toward playing he used to. It’s not everything to him, the way it was. The way it still is to Will.
“Leon is an old friend,” my dad says.
