Mac loved the campus in the fall. Thickets of trees brimmed with orange, red, and yellow leaves. He was living in a canvas. It wasn’t dissimilar from fall in Pittsburgh, but he’d much rather spend it here.
A few days later, he and Delia journeyed up north, past the tip of North campus, to the Barkley Miller Arena. They walked against the wind.
“They have hot food there, right?” Delia asked, squinting to brave the gusts of air slamming their faces. “I’m skipping dinner to go to this.”
“Yes. Full refreshments,” Mac said, though that was a wild guess. She’d have a good time once the game started. Well, he hoped.
“I’m only going because basketball is slightly less objectifying than football. At least this is a sport women are allowed to play. You’re coming with me to a women’s basketball game next time.”
“Sure thing.” Mac didn’t mind agreeing because he knew Delia would never follow through.
They could hear the music pumping from the arena a block away. Mac’s fingers tingled with excitement. He tried going to a few basketball games each year. Unlike baseball and football, basketball games moved fast. There was constant motion.
People handed out programs and hawked merchandise as a countdown clock to the game ticked away seconds in the center of the lobby. Anticipation rumbled through every inch of this place. He peeked in one of the section entrances and glimpsed the lit-up basketball court. It was bigger in person, an imposing stage.
“We’re not there. We’re up.” Delia craned her neck back. “Way up.”
They climbed up two ramps to the student section. Things calmed down at this level. Less hawking, more people finding their seats. They passed one concession stand after another as they circumnavigated the arena.
“Did we go in a circle yet, or are the concession stands repeating themselves?” Delia asked.
“They’re repeating.”
“And of course there’s no healthy snack options, and it’s all wicked overpriced. Seven bucks for a hot dog?”
“Can you save your latest protest for after the game?” Mac asked politely as they came upon their section.
They moseyed down the steep steps to their section, which was behind one of the baskets. Their seats were on the aisle, which bummed Mac out slightly, knowing people would be walking back and forth the whole game.
The basketball players warmed up, dribbling and shooting on the court. Mac leaned forward in his seat and watched everything, soaking it all in.
“The game hasn’t started yet,” Delia said.
“I know.”
A few minutes later, she whacked him on the shoulder to get up so people could get by. Two guys shimmied down the aisle, one of whom looked miserable to be there, and the other one was Gideon.
“Of all the aisles in all the student sections,” Gideon said to Mac, careful not to step on his or Delia’s shoes.
Gideon and his friend plunked down next to Mac. Was it bad that Mac had begun to recognize Gideon’s outfits?
“Small world,” Gideon said.
“Well, it makes sense we’d both wind up in the student section.”
“I guess.” Gideon tapped his friend on the shoulder. “Seth, this is Mac.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.” Seth held his hand out for a shake. He wore khakis and a tucked-in shirt.
“And hello, Delia,” Gideon said. “Still want to hit me?”
“All day every day,” Delia deadpanned.
The announcer called out each starting member of the basketball team. Mac cheered loudly, cupping his hands to make a megaphone. He caught Gideon eyeing him with a grin that made Mac blush.
“What?” Mac asked.
“I didn’t know you were into basketball,” Gideon said.
