The Wrong Game

by Steiner, Kandi

  I didn’t wait to see what her response was before I tucked my phone away again, quickening my pace to our seats.

  I felt a little bad, declining, especially since I hadn’t taken the time to call her back from the first time I’d missed a call from her two weeks ago. It had been half because I wasn’t sure what to say to her after months of silence, after knowing there was nothing and no one who tied us together anymore.

  The other half had been because I was too busy having fun with Zach.

  I yanked on my Bears beanie, covering my ears with the soft wool and shoving my hands in the pockets of my jacket. I couldn’t help but smile thinking of him, knowing I’d see him in just a few short minutes when I made it to our seats, that I’d be in his arms again. I hadn’t seen him yet this weekend, not since our lazy movie night Thursday night, and I was anxious to be near him.

  I was also nervous to meet whoever it was he’d brought with him.

  He’d sold his other ticket, but asked me to save mine so he could bring his mystery guest. I’d pestered him about who it was all week, guessing everything from a college best friend to a gay lover, but he hadn’t budged. Whoever it was, he was important to Zach.

  And so, he was important to me.

  A chill ran through me when I made it to the section where our seats were, the cool wind whipping down and icing my nose. It was starting to drizzle now, and I peered up at the sky before keeping my head down on the jog to our seats. I had to laugh a little at the juxtaposition of this game next to the last home game — the one where I’d shown up with Jordan, and Zach had shown up with Belle.

  So much had changed.

  It was hard to wrap my head around everything that had happened since then — facing my fear of heights with him, dinner dates and movie nights, my birthday. I’d crossed over into my next thirty years, leaving the first thirty behind, and I already knew the next would be so different. I hadn’t expected to start my new year with another man, with someone who wasn’t Carlo, but there Zach was.

  He’d made everything perfect.

  On top of giving me exactly the low-key birthday I wanted at Doc’s bar, he’d opened up to me, and he’d made it easy for me to do the same. And his gift? It was absolutely perfect. It was everything I wanted that I didn’t even know to ask for. The pen, the notebooks… they were personally crafted with me in mind.

  It was the most romantic gift I’d ever received.

  Minus the cheerleading uniform.

  Although, I ended up not entirely hating that, either.

  And so, I was too busy floating on clouds to think of calling my ex-mother-in-law back. I was too busy soaking in the feeling of euphoria Zach gave me to even think about getting back out into the cold air, of wrapping myself in the itchy towel of reality.

  I just wanted to stay submerged a little while longer, until my hands and feet were pruney and I was tired of the heat.

  If ever such a day were to come.

  Until then, I would sink down into the water farther, letting it heal my aching muscles and soothe my tender heart.

  And that heart doubled its pace as soon as I saw the back of Zach’s head.

  I smiled, hopping down the stairs two at a time on my way to our seats. I shimmied past the usual pass holders in our row, greeting them as I squeezed by, and I slid up next to Zach just as the announcer called for the singing of the national anthem.

  “Hi,” I said, throwing my arms around his neck as soon as he turned to face me. He caught me with an umph and a smile against my lips as I kissed him, his hands meeting at the small of my back.

  Zach was bundled up in a thick, rain-repellent jacket, a beanie covering his own ears and jeans covering his legs down to his sneakers. He felt a little thicker as he held me to him, and it made me want to ditch the game altogether and go cuddle inside by a fire, watching the rain outside instead of being in it.

  Of course, I’d never say that out loud. Because, football.

  “Well, happy Sunday to you, too,” he said when I pulled back, his dimple popping on his cheek as his eyes drank me in.

  “Happy Sunday. Such lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” I joked, peeking back up at the miserably gray sky. It was still drizzling, but I had a feeling the rain would come harder and colder any moment.

  I was smiling when I looked at him again, but it slipped when my eyes skirted to the boy standing beside him, my heart stopping in my chest before it started back with a hard kick.

  Oh, my God…

  It was like stepping back in time, like I’d hopped a DeLorean with a time dial set back to Zach’s high school years to see what he looked like then. Except, instead of the dark hair, dark eyes, and scruff-lined jaw, it was sandy blond hair, golden eyes, and a face as smooth as mine that stared back at me. But the resemblance was unmistakable — the boyish grin, the same little dimple on the same cheek, the same broad build and nearly the same height.

  I’d seen that boy in a photo in Zach’s apartment.

  It was his little brother.

  The anthem started playing before Zach had the chance to introduce us, and a knot formed in my stomach for reasons I couldn’t place as we all turned our attention to the flag. It was just meeting someone in his family — which, in a way, I sort of had already done with Doc. And it was just a football game, it wasn’t like we were going to sit down and talk for hours over a dinner.

  But Zach had admitted to me that family was important to him, that his little brother was a huge part of his world. And now he was here, to meet me.

  For some reason, I was instantly nervous at what that might mean to Zach.

  At what it might mean for us.

  “Gemma,” Zach said when the anthem was done, leaning back a little so his brother could see me. “This is my little brother, Micah.”

  The grin on Zach’s mini me’s face doubled as his hand reached for mine, and as soon as he held it, he let out a long whistle, kissing my ice-cold hand with a playful grin.

  “Damn,” he said, shaking his head as he took me in. “My brother said you were smokin’ hot, but honestly, I didn’t believe him. He doesn’t exactly have the best taste in… well, anything.”

  Zach rolled his eyes, nudging his little brother hard in the ribs as he dropped my hand. But I chuckled.

  I tucked my hands back in the pockets of my coat. “Thanks… I think?”

  “Oh, it’s definitely a compliment.” Micah looked up at his brother. “Bold strategy bringing me here, bro. Might just steal your girl by the time this game is over.”

  “In your dreams,” Zach answered, throwing one arm around Micah’s neck. He rubbed his head with the opposite fist, fluffing up his hair before Micah finally shoved him off.

  My stomach flipped at the way he’d called me Zach’s girl.

  Was I his girl?

  I mean, we were clearly only seeing each other, and we’d turned our back on the games we’d played that first month we’d known each other. But, was I his?

  Was he mine?

  Why my brain picked that exact moment to remind me that we’d never talked about it was beyond me. But it was like standing behind a curtain that had slipped, and I saw everything outside. I tried righting the curtain, but I couldn’t. Now that I’d thought about it, now that my brain had latched on, I couldn’t let it go.

  I hadn’t been thinking about it. But, we never set any guidelines, we never decided what we are and what we aren’t. Now, I’m here meeting his younger brother — someone important to him.

  And that little asshole part of my brain that needed control, that needed boundaries and explicit direction, took over everything.

  “Are you okay?” Zach asked, leaning closer and lowering his voice to where Micah couldn’t hear. The Jets had won the coin toss and had just received the first kick, anyway, so his attention was on the field. “With this, I mean. With me bringing Micah?”

  I blinked, shaking off the daze Micah had somehow stunned me into. “Yes, of course. I’m excited
to meet him. I’m honored,” I said, voice lower. “I know how important he is to you.”

  Zach smiled at that, his hand leaving his own pocket to dive into mine. He laced our fingers together, eyes shining. “He is. And so are you.”

  I smiled, heart swelling at his words at the same time my brain picked up weapons and body armor. They were on two different pages, as they had been since I’d learned of Carlo’s infidelity.

  “Wait,” Micah said from Zach’s other side, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the field. “Where are the cheerleaders? Are they inside or something because of the rain?”

  “There are no cheerleaders,” Zach answered.

  “WHAT?!”

  I laughed at Micah’s outrage, leaning more into Zach to harbor his body heat. The rain was picking up, and it was getting colder with each new drop. “Come on,” I chided. “Every Bears fan knows we don’t have cheerleaders. We have the band, instead,” I said, nodding to the section where our band was, waiting to fire up the “Bear Down” song whenever we scored.

  “Man, we got gipped,” Micah said, flopping down into his seat and crossing his arms.

  The rest of the section was sitting, too, the ball down at the other end of the field as the Jets tried to score, so Zach and I took our seats.

  “Just wait until we score,” I said, trying to bring him comfort. “This stadium roaring out the lyrics to ‘Bear Down’ is way more entertaining than some skirts on the field.”

  “Psh,” Micah said, one brow climbing into his hair line. “Speak for yourself. I’m sixteen years old. There’s nothing more entertaining to me right now than some skirts flying up and showing a little booty.”

  “I mean, I’m thirty and I feel the same,” Zach chimed in, raising his hand not intertwined with mine.

  Micah high-fived that hand before they both sat back, satisfied grins on their faces. I just shook my head.

  “It’s a football game,” I argued. “That’s what you should be excited for.”

  “Oh, and I am,” Micah said. He kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him with a casual shrug. “I’m stoked to watch the Bears whoop up on some Jets’ ass. I just also would like to get a peek at some other ass. Preferably that of a hot blonde.”

  My mouth popped open at his language, but Zach just laughed out loud, nudging his little brother.

  “What, got something against brunettes now, little bro?”

  “No way. I just know no other brunette could compete with the chick sitting beside you right now, and you know I hate losing. Gotta keep my eyes open for a hot blonde if I want a chance here.”

  Micah grinned at me then, and it was a grin so close to Zach’s that my mouth just fell open wider. They were like teacher and student, except I wasn’t sure who had taught who, and I felt like I was back at that first game with Zach and his cheesy lines.

  And that’s how the rest of the game went.

  Zach and Micah were like two cocky peas in a modest pod, and I had front row tickets to the show. They bantered back and forth, laughing and ragging on each other between plays as we watched the Bears take a comfortable lead over the Jets. By half-time, all the nerves I’d had were completely gone, replaced instead by so much laughter my sides were aching from the strain.

  “I’m going to go get us a couple beers and some food,” Zach announced at half-time, popping up out of his seat. “Hot dog, ketchup and cheese?” he asked me.

  “Ew,” Micah said, pressing a hand to his chest like he was personally offended. “What the hell is that?”

  “Don’t even ask,” Zach said. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to know.”

  “Hey, both of you just leave my food choices alone,” I said. “Until you’ve tried it, you can’t knock it.”

  Micah’s lip curled up, his nose scrunching at the thought of me consuming that hot dog as Zach turned to him. But when he asked what Micah wanted, Micah’s eyes leveled with mine, and he nodded.

  “You know what, you’re right,” he said. “I can’t knock it until I’ve tried it. So, I’ll have the same.”

  Zach’s brows shot up and I smiled, crossing my arms in victory.

  “You want a hot dog with cheese,” Zach deadpanned. “And ketchup.”

  Micah cringed a little, but nodded. “Yep.”

  Zach shook his head, throwing his hands up. “Whatever. It’s your dinner. Be right back.”

  He leaned down to kiss my forehead as he passed, and then it was just me and Micah.

  A comfortable silence fell between us as we watched the halftime entertainment, which happened to be two scrimmages being played by Pop Warner players on either half of the field. The rain had stopped, mercifully, but the temperature had dropped another seven degrees. I was thankful for my heavy coat and long socks under my jeans, and I huddled into myself more, missing Zach’s warmth.

  I always loved the little halftime shows they had, and Micah seemed to be enjoying watching the young players scrap it out on the field, too. It was hard not to think of all their possibilities. One day, they’d be grown, and maybe playing on this very field again in a different uniform.

  We both laughed as one of the little receivers on our end scored and did a celebration dance that looked like the Floss dance from the YouTuber known as The Backpack Kid, the crowd going wild as he did. Micah was still chuckling as he propped his arm up on the back of Zach’s chair between us, eyes staying on the field as he finally spoke.

  “So, you and my brother, huh?”

  I smiled, but kept my eyes on the field, too. “Is this when the interrogation starts?”

  At that, Micah leaned across Zach’s chair a bit, crossing one ankle over his knee and balancing his chin on his hand. “What exactly are your intentions with my brother?” he asked in a mock Dad tone.

  “That was actually pretty good. I’d be scared if I was Zach’s prom date.”

  “If you would have seen his prom date, you would have been more scared of her than for her.”

  I laughed. “That bad, huh?”

  Micah shook his head, a shiver running over him as he recalled her. “Don’t get me wrong, she was hot, but man, she was a bitch.”

  “That’s some mouth you’ve got on you.”

  He shrugged. “I like to curse. I stopped apologizing for it and started embracing it at the age of fourteen. Something I learned maybe well before I was supposed to is that trying to be what other people think you should be is a waste of time. Life is too short to be or do or say anything other than exactly what you want. And in the end, no one’s judgment matters, because it’s your life you’re living.” Micah’s shoulders lifted again. “Not theirs.”

  Something about his words hit me square in the gut, like a punch I didn’t see coming. The words he said were something even I was still trying to believe — that I should live my own life, stop apologizing, do whatever made me happy. For most of my friends, that revelation came around thirty or maybe a few years after.

  But this kid was sixteen, and he somehow already understood it.

  “I can respect that,” I said, turning toward him.

  I still couldn’t get over how much he looked like his brother, how much their features favored each other. Maybe it was because I didn’t have a brother or sister to look like, to share those characteristics with. It was such a fascinating thing to me.

  “So, was this prom date the same girl he dated in college?”

  “For the brief time he was there? Yeah.”

  “How do you even remember her?” I asked. “You couldn’t have been more than what… five, then?”

  “Four,” he corrected, and something passed over his eyes then, like a shadow or a ghost. “And I remember a lot from when I was younger.”

  “She sucked that bad, huh?” I asked with a chuckle.

  “Something like that.” Micah watched me for a moment, all humor gone from his eyes now. “But seriously, what are your intentions with Zach?”

  I smiled again, but it faltered when Micah’s
expression stayed level. “Wait, are you serious?”

  “Kind of.” He shrugged. “Look, I know we joke around a lot, Zach and I, it’s kind of in our blood. But if I’m being honest, my brother is about as tough as a bunny rabbit. He’s a romantic at heart, always has been, and I just… I haven’t seen him like this with anyone in a really, really long time.”

  I swallowed, wrapping my arms around my middle and tucking me feet up onto my chair. “Really?”

  Micah nodded. “Really. I think he knew when he met you that you were different. You grabbed his attention like no girl I’ve seen him talk about before. And now that you two are dating, or whatever it is you’re doing,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I don’t know, I’m just worried. I don’t know much about you, but I know everything about my brother. And I can tell you right now that he cares about you. A lot.”

  I swallowed, anxiety creeping in again. “We just started dating,” I pointed out. “It’s not that serious.”

  “I know,” Micah said, but he shrugged again. “Doesn’t mean it couldn’t become that way.”

  My heart squeezed at that, once again warring with my brain. Part of me was still floating, maybe even higher than before knowing that Zach wasn’t like this with every woman he met. But the other half of me was dropping a leg down, trying to reach the ground again and come back to Earth. It wanted to feel that dirt and grass, to get back to center, to remember why floating is dangerous.

  Zach could feel this way now, but it didn’t mean he had to feel this way forever.

  I knew that, but it wasn’t something I could say to his little brother. He was too young, perhaps too inexperienced to understand how love could change, how it could fade over time. I didn’t want to be the one to break that to him, so I just nodded and smiled, letting the conversation die.

  “I’m just saying, I know you’re the chick, and it’s his job to protect you and all that,” Micah said. “But, he’s been hurt, too. Just remember that.”

  I didn’t have a chance to respond before Zach appeared behind me, squeezing between my knees and the seat as he sat back down between me and Micah. Micah gave me one last small smile before he took one of the hot dogs from Zach, and I took the other.