“If you’re gonna puke, at least miss your shoes. I know those cost you a pretty penny.” Before I turn to see her face, I already know who it is.
"Joss!” I squeal, throwing my arms around her shoulders, effectively causing a pileup of the throng of people around us with my unexpected stop. “I thought you were in New York this week.”
She knocks her head back, flopping a lock of purple hair out of her eyes. Last time I saw her it was pink. “We wrapped early, and I busted my butt to get here. Antonia told me she had an extra ticket.”
God bless Antonia for always being aware of what will keep me calm in high-stress situations and utilizing it. If I look good, she looks good, and she knows it.
“You could have texted me,” I say.
“Yeah, but this is more fun.” Joss grins, then holds up a hand to block her mouth, her blue and gold bangles jingling down her arm as she lowers her voice. “Plus, I heard you’re meeting the mom, and I love seeing you flustered.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say flatly.
She giggles. “Thought I might be able to help ya out if you try to embarrass yourself like you did with T.J. Mills’s mom freshman year of high school.”
“Really? You’re going to bring that up right now?”
“That’s what you get for forgetting to tell me you’re dating a pro athlete.”
“It’s a long story.” I check my watch, and my stomach somersaults. We’re fifteen minutes late. They’re probably waiting on me. They probably think I’m rude.
“Can’t be that long of a story. It’s barely been a couple weeks according to everyone online.”
“Maybe if you answered your phone for once, you wouldn’t have to rely on gossip to hear about your best friend’s new relationship.” I scowl.
“Hey, Miss Career, you’re the one who encouraged me to chase my dreams. There’s only so many hours in a day.” She laughs like it’s funny.
My frown doesn’t budge.
She groans. “Fine. I’ll admit it. I’ve been a crappy friend. You always make time for me, and I shoulda done the same for you. I’m sorry.” She pouts. “Forgive me?”
I roll my eyes. “Always.”
Throwing an arm over my shoulder, she pulls me in for a little squeeze, her plump lip popping back into place. Gustavslows his gait, stepping around us as we close in on our destination, and I take one leveling breath as he pushes open the door.
The luxury skybox is as luxurious as a football stadium will allow. The lighting is warm, the accents are gold, and little pops of Kings blue are spread throughout the space. Pillowy leather seats flank an aisle of wide stairs that lead down to a sprawling glass front. Nothing about it screamssports standsto me. As I perch at the top and stare out, part of me wishes I could sit in the bleachers snacking on popcorn and hot dogs with everyone else. The catered food along the wall looks delicious, but sometimes a beer and something greasy hits the spot. Of course, if I asked, I’d have my choice of both brews and munchies, but I’ve found people like you more when you don’t come off as demanding in any way. When you’re content with what is offered, it gives everyone less to gossip about. I’m not afraid to ask for what I want, but given my current circumstances and the sole reason I’m here, I’ll stick with the buffet they’ve laid out.
An elbow sinks into my ribs, and I turn to Joss who gestures towards the seats. A woman with faded brown hair smiles up at us, and I immediately recognize the soft-angled nose. It’s Decker’s nose. This is Darlene. I’ve never been one to be nervous to meet the parents, so why now? Maybe because I have to full-blown lie to this poor woman’s smiling face. The growing guilt is immediately washed away when I remember the fact that Decker is totally okay with me lying to his mom. Something about that makes it feel even more wrong. It makeshimfeel wrong. Without a second thought, I paste on a smile and start her way, the pink box clenched in my hands.
“Darlene?” I begin.
She nods, her cheeks full and pink, a glass of red wine sloshing in her hand. Pasting on my politest smile, I switch intointerview mode. If I can captivate audiences, surely I can charm one person. But why are my palms sweating so much?
“So glad to finally meet you. A little birdie told me these were your favorite, so I couldn’t pass them up.”
She fumbles for a moment, trying to find a place for her wine glass until finally, I awkwardly offer to hold it as she takes the box from me and lifts the lid. A dramatic gasp drops her jaw like she’s just cracked open some long-lost treasure chest. “Oh, Lena. You’re too sweet. Thank you.” She wraps an arm around me, crushing the box between us as I try my best to avoid dumping her wine all over her.
I stiffen instinctively. Meeting people is always a toss up of reactions. From tears to speechlessness to oversharing and groping, I’ve endured it all. Typically, when people grab me this way, it’s unexpected and unwanted, and Gustav is on it, pulling them off in no time flat. Though unexpected, there’s something warm about her, and I find myself feeling charmed by her ability to be somotherly. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if my mom was more mother than manager. Forgetting about the crushed box, I lean into the hug, squeezing her right back.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” She says as she steps away, giving me a once over. “You’re even more beautiful in person. That blue suits you, Lena.”
Tucking the box beneath her arm, she takes back her wine glass, her other hand resting on my back as she steers me toward the food. People clear a path for us, and I do my duties nodding and greeting everyone with the biggest smile. Joss pops up out of nowhere with a small plate of desserts, completely forgoing any of the appetizers or entrees in favor of her sweets. She introduces herself to Darlene between bites and heads off to the open bar for a cocktail. I follow along with Darlene as she makes suggestions about what’s worth eating and what I should avoid,and then she offers to grab me a cocktail too. Though I decline, she insists because her glass is empty too. She tells me she’ll grab me one of Decker’s favorites, which I pretend to know.
I descend the stairs with Darlene on my heels, taking a deep breath as we approach the window. It’s time. This is what we’ve been waiting for. My stomach flips a little more with each step closer to the glass. After this moment, we’re all people will be talking about. Decker and I. The fact that I seem so chummy with his mother. And as always, those trivial little things—what color my drink was, my outfit, and how many times I didn’t smile. Naturally, my made up lips press further into my cheeks as though it can wipe away the nerves. As excited as I am to bury the whole King’s Music Hall fiasco, I’m officially—and publicly—stepping into unknown territory. New territory.Decker’sterritory.
Darlene and I sit, and she shoves a plastic cup into the built-in drink holder in the arm of my chair. Which reclines, by the way. I might as well be in anyone’s living room across America in a chair like this, but instead, I’m being stared at by thousands of eyes as though I’m in the world’s biggest fish bowl.
“Spiced rum and Sprite.” She points to the swirling liquid in the cup. “Deck’s favorite.”
