I groan. “You saw it, didn’t you?”
“Oh. My. God. Lucy, you’re an internet sensation!”
“I am not. It’ll die down by tomorrow.”
“Unlikely. The clip that ESPN showed went viral immediately, and then so did your very boring post-game interview. Those things never get much replay unless the player says something offensive. But your boring ass, ‘Well, we played a great game. Despite the stick in my ass, I ran fast,’” he says in a poor impression of Forrest Gump’s voice, “is now viral.”.
I roll my eyes. “It’ll die down.” It will. Right?It has to.I wonder if I can get Jesse to do something to distract the masses, like release a dick pic or something. There are pictures of his dick on the internet. I’ve seen them. They were all before he got sober, though.
Jesse Moore dances on tables at the Louvre and exposes dick to passing convent. Three nuns faint, and the rest strip out of their habits on sight. One nun joins him, and they perform an impromptu duet that becomes an immediate world sensation.
That should do it.
I snort a laugh and open my phone again to send Jesse a text telling him my idea, when AJ looks over my shoulder. “Ooooh,is that Shawna? Tell her I say hi.”
“She’s not interested,” I sing-song.
“How do you know? You asked her?” He pauses. “No, really, have you asked her? Because if I’m not her type, I can change.”
“León, she’s not evenyourtype.” AJ almost exclusively dates models and influencers, extremely beautiful women who dress to the nines in couture and wear stilettos with jeans. The type of women who wouldn’t be caught out of bed without the latest fashions, their hair and nails perfectly done, and a full face of makeup.
Shawna goes to the grocery store in an old, ratty pair of my sweatpants that she stole from my gym locker in high school. Her daily wardrobe is a pair of leggings and a baggy t-shirt that is likely also stolen from me. In the winter, she sometimes accessorizes with a hoodie that’s usually covered in profanity and snark. I’ve never seen her wear a stitch of makeup, even at our senior prom. Her hair is almost always in a ponytail pulled through a hat that–you guessed it–bitch stole from me.
She farts and burps more than any man I’ve ever met, has a crippling caffeine addiction, and spends all her time reading gay smut novels.
Shawna Landry-Ryan–middle name redacted because she hates it–is, put quite simply, awesome.
She’s my best friend in the world. My brother (because I have two sisters and don’t need another) from another mother. My platonic soulmate. My inspiration for who I want to be when I grow up because she does not give a fuck.
There’s no one better. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s not AJ’s type. Not only that, he couldn’t handle her.
We’re still bantering back and forth about it, or rather he’s kicking ideas about the different ways to woo my best friend and I’m repeating the word, “No,” while looking at the menu and paying very little attention to him.
Mention of my viral embarrassment doesn’t get mentioned until after we’ve all ordered and gotten drinks. Monty stands up and instructs everyone to lift their glasses for a toast.
“To tonight's MVP, Luc Martín, for a game well played and an interception that will make highlight reels for seasons to come. A truly impressive play that is overshadowed only by a dashing grin hidden behind his surly mask. Let it be known that tonight’s meal and drinks are being paid for by the merchandising rights for the smile that got the Shreveport Cyclones more than one hundred thousand new fans in a matter of hours.” He lifts his glass and winks good-naturedly. “To Luc!”
“To Luc!”
“Y’all need to stop,” I grumble, bringing a palm to my face to hide how red I must be turning based on how hot I feel.
“We haven’t even begun to start, darlin’,” Monty says. “Treyden, our resident social media guru, has made a short list of highlights that he would like to share.”
Snapping fills the room. Treyden is known for his occasional pregame poetry readings. They’re usually snarky or sarcastic, but sometimes they’re serious or inspirational. He’s internet famous for trash-talking conservative media figures and going on insightful rants about the state of the world.
Treyden clears his deep voice and begins.
“Forget the interception, I’m intercepted by that grin. Melted face emoji.” Everyone snickers, but he has, in fact, only just begun.
“Top five defensive plays of the year. Top one smile of all time.” A chorus of “aww,” fills the room. I drop my face into both hands.
“He shut down the offense, then shut down the internet.” That one gets snaps of appreciation. Dear God.
“Did anyone else just feel their ovaries twinge? #sexiestsmile #impregnatemeplease” The room explodes into laughter.
“Are we done yet?” I ask over the rumble of laughing men.
“Just one more,” he says. “Stats don’t lie: One interception, one grin, one million new fans. #SportsCenterSpotlight”
