“Oh, yeah?” Charlie paid for the merch and handed me the hand with the team’s logo on it—a cheeky leprechaun in a circle.
“You got me addicted to dino pancakes, showed me that 2000s music is old enough to have theme parties, and—” Made me question my sexuality. “Introduced me to fun people.”
Charlie narrowed his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. Then he patted my arm, directing us to the store’s exit. His frequent casual touches were like small kisses of affection. I’d like to get more of them. Often.
We waddled to our first balcony seats and settled in between two dudes with beers and a woman with three thick chains around her neck and a fake pot of gold.
“After the party, the guys keep asking when I’m bringing you home again. Will you come over next Friday to chill and watch a movie? It will be just me and Trixie. Sabrina can’t be there because her parents are coming over for the weekend.”
I nodded as theSeven Nation Armybass beat filled the arena, amping up the fans. The music was so loud it thumped in my chest, like at Charlie’s concert. Or maybe it was my heart at the idea of another evening spent with him.
“Sure. What should I bring?”
“Your smile is enough, Cupcake.” Charlie bumped me with his shoulder and remained close.
Basking in the proximity, I watched the mascot—a guy dressed as a leprechaun—and the dancers in skimpy outfits, warm up the audience. The comfort of having my bestie next to me kept me in place until the players entered the court.
Charlie was looking up and I followed his line of vision.
“You see the banners up there?” I pointed to the white and green sheets hanging high off the ceiling.
“Yeah.”
“The dates on them show the eighteen championships the Celtics won—the most in NBA history. With a few years’ break for the Jordan era.” I chuckled to myself, but that was a fact. “Then they were back in the game.”
“What are the three banners next to them?” Charlie asked.
“Those are retired numbers. That means no one in the team can use them anymore because whoever wore it before was so good. Like 33 for Larry Bird, AKA Larry Legend for his awesome career in the eighties.” I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from relaying info on Bird, and other players from the past. To my surprise, Charlie didn’t look bored as he watched the players take to the court.
“Just tell me when to stand up or cheer.” Charlie wiggled the foam hand at me.
“Oh, you’ll know. You’ll feel everyone’s excitement.” I was itching to tell him what was happening, but no one ever wanted to listen to my running commentary.
“So what are the stakes? Is this game important or one of those that don’t count much?” Charlie turned to me, genuine interest in his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t remember the rules anymore. You’ve always told me about it all.”
I could kiss him. The information that had been bubbling in me spilled out in words.
“This is a pre-season game, so whether they win or lose, it won’t weigh on the season. It’s like a warm up ahead of the serious games. But today they’re playing Denver Nuggets.” I made jazz hands, grinning at Charlie’s amused expression.
“And that’s good, right?”
“Oh yeah. Celtics were champions in the previous season, but Nuggets won the year before that. During pre-season, successful teams like Celtics are usually paired with a shitty team, but this game could be great even for the NBA finals.” I lowered my voice to a commentator mode.
Charlie patted my thigh. “Okay, so tell me what’s happening now.”
With glee, I spiraled into describing what was going on, keeping it low enough not to disturb others. “Damn, Nuggets started strong with Nikola Jokic taking the ball. The Joker is on it, but our guys have him covered. He shoots and…misses! He barely grazed the rim.”
Charlie burst out laughing. “He what?”
I grinned. “Some commentators use very graphic descriptions that sound like the most filthy innuendos, so I picked up a thing or two.”
“Show me what you got.” Charlie cheered me on with the foam glove.
I nodded. “Let the puns begin.” Between triple penetration comments and various rim jokes, I had Charlie in stitches in no time.
“He’s hammering those balls in!” I elbowed Charlie, who was wiping tears off his face with his jersey, his cheeks pink from laughing.
“Tatum comes from behind and gets a piece of it. It’s not about when you come, it’s how hard you come.” I delivered the lines in the best commentator voice and tone I could muster.
