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“A beer,” Dad responds in a clipped tone.
“Same.” Mr. Cassiano offers a jerky nod.
“Okay…” I drag out the word even as I swivel around and link my arms with the two women. I drag them a few paces away and break the silence with, “Time to spill the beans. What’s happening right now? You all are acting super weird today.”
“I’m just nervous—” Mom starts.
Mrs. Cassiano cuts her off, saying, “For Max. There are going to be a lot of eyes here.”
“Shouldn’t I be more nervous than my mother?” I cock an eyebrow.
She laughs awkwardly. “You care about him, so I care about him too.”
“Right.”
They’re clearly up to something.
While they discuss the menu options of the nearest concession stand—and by discuss I mean Mrs. Cassiano taking public offense at what’s defined as a pizza here—I pull my cellphone from the pocket of my jeans to text a certain All-Star.
Me
What’s up with our parents? They’re acting weirder than usual
My Squishy S’More
Impossible
Me
Trust me, even New Yorkers are looking at us weird
Max’s three dots appear and disappear several times before a response finally shows up.
My Squishy S’More
Also impossible
I roll my eyes.
Me
How are the nerves?
My Squishy S’More
Non existing
Send me a selfie?
I snort. He’s taken to asking me for a selfie every time he’s having a lil panic in the locker room before a game. I, ever-supporting girlfriend that I am, always oblige. This time I’m in public, so I can’t send him anything too exciting. I angle the phone so our mothers appear in the background, and snap a picture of me grinning from ear to ear. I doodle some hearts on the picture before sending it to him.
He responds back with a selfie too. Max is sitting on his bench, only missing the pads, jersey, and helmet. His hair’s already messy, like he’s been running his hands through it, and he has one hand over his heart and an over-the-top lovesick expression on his pretty face.
“Este hombre…” I murmur under my breath.
Our line moves, and I have to tuck my phone away. This order will require both hands and my mouth. And sure enough, a few minutes later, the three of us are hugging mountains of overpriced food and drinks as we head over to the seats.
“We’re back!” I announce to the patriarchs, and they get on their feet to help us offload.
