Fran: I’m in.
Fran: Earth Day is coming. An Earth Day party? A picnic in the park? A cherry blossom party? A spring cleaning party? April Fool’s Day was a week ago, but we could still do an April Fool’s party if that interests you.
Me: Wow. How did you type that so quickly?
Stella: Fran, did you JUST come up with all of those?
Rosalie: She has a notes app on her phone with party ideas.
Fran: I use voice text. And I am not ashamed of being party prepared.
Me: No cleaning. No fools. Something closer than Earth Day and something for both men and women. Thanks, Fran.
Two days later, Franny comes through. I am texted an invitation. There’s a cartoon guy standing next to a grill and big blocky letters that read:COUPLES POTLUCK PARTY.
There are details telling me when and where—Thursday evening, our night off, no game or practice. Perfect. Fran and Callum’s place. She’s also added what to bring—a side dish and a partner. She’s so detail-oriented—not subtle, but very thorough. She’s even added a small note at the bottom saying the Liberty and Rovers game will be on for our viewing pleasure.
Me: A partner is mandatory?
I reply. Fran is quick to write back.
Fran: You said something for couples. Something for men and women. I made sure it’s a couples dinner. I invited several friends—Maggie included—and everyone on the team who’s in a relationship.
Did I say couples? I just meant I wanted a reason for Maggie and me to both be invited to the same party. How can we be friends if we never see each other off the pitch?
Me: That’s a lot ofpeople.
Fran: Not everyone can come.
Fran: Now what are you waiting for? We party in four days. Call her and ask her to be your other half. You’re single, she’s single. Just casually suggest you go together.
Casually suggest.I can do that. A nice and friendly invitation.
But nervesthat I hadn’t anticipated stir inside my body, making me feel jittery and anxious. So, Idon’ttext Maggie. I don’t casually suggest anything. I wait. For two days.
“The entire reason my wife is throwing this thing is so that you and Maggie can go together. You haven’t even texted her?” Callum scoffs.
I shrug one shoulder like there aren’t jumping beans in my stomach. “I’m giving it a couple days. No need to get anxious, Superman.” Especially since, for some strange reason, I’m quite anxious.
“Lucca,” Roman groans.
I point at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side. At all times. I’m your best friend. Not to mention, I saved your marriage.”
“You didn’t save my?—”
“Having a female friend is difficult,” I say. I’m not sure why, but it is.
“Fran’s your friend. That’s not difficult.” Callum turns to his locker, opening it up and setting his cleats inside.
Zev crosses his arms, giving me no sympathy. “Stella and Rosalie, too.”
“What Lucca means is”—Roman sits on the bench across from me—“having a single, attractive female friend who has no problem resisting him is difficult.”
I screw up my face until I must look thoroughly confused. “That’s not what I meant. At all.”
“That’s exactly what he meant,” Zev says. “He’s attracted to Maggie.”
“That makes sense.” Callum leans against the lockers behind him, folding his arms over his chest. “I always wondered why she got under his skin the way she did.”
