Ari, Naz, and I fought to have this song taken off the setlist. The producers threw a fit, talking about how disappointed the fans would be if we didn’t do our breakout hit. It was Jesse who made us back down. No one could have forced us to do it but him, and he wanted to do the song for the fans. I think maybe he thought it would be like saying goodbye.
In the end, we only backed down because we knew it wouldn’t be goodbye. Because he was supposed to be getting his man back at the end of the game. Because he was supposed to stay and watch his man’s team in a show of solidarity and support.
Knowing that won’t happen now makes it even more heartbreaking to hear his voice waver. We have to restart the song after he looks back at us helplessly. When I look over at Ari, he has a tear trailing down his cheek.
Jesse starts to sing, walking down the long catwalk, and it feels like the entire arena is holding their breath. It’s eerily still and silent as the crowd leans in, feeling every raw note. It occurs to me that none of them know who this song is about, but they probably know who he’s singing to now.
A little over halfway through the song, there’s a disturbance on the field. Someone shouts, but we can’t hear what they say. My first thought is there’s probably a streaker—there’s always one. But the energy shifts, and there’s a collective intake of breath followed by an almost staticky rumble of surprise. It’s subtle atfirst—a ripple in the lower stands. A murmur that grows louder, swelling into gasps and sporadic cheers and applause, mostly from the dancers and crew on the ground.
Ari’s arm presses against mine. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know… Oh, shit.”
Ari’s head swivels, and when his eyes land on what I see, he gasps audibly.
None other than Luc Martín climbs up from the side of the stage, helped up by Cory. He looks larger than life, bigger than usual in his football pads. His eyes are locked on Jesse, determined despite how terrified he must be.
The moment he’s on stage and the cameras are on him, the entire stadium erupts in excited cheers. He swallows visibly and starts walking toward Jesse, who is still singing. As he passes us, Ari and I both clap Luc on the shoulder in stunned encouragement, understanding just how big this moment is.
Ari practically sobs when Jesse finally turns around, the crowd screaming and pointing. He does a double take when he sees Luc center stage, walking straight to him. His voice falters for a brief moment, his eyes wide and clearly not believing what he’s seeing, but he somehow manages to keep singing. I’ve barely remembered to keep playing, my fingers moving by muscle memory at this point.
Taking the mic from the stand he’d placed it in, he turns and starts walking, meeting him halfway. They stand so close there’s barely room for the mic between them. Jesse’s free hand comes up and touches Luc’s chest, like he might not actually be real. Luc runs his hand up Jesse’s arm in a way that givesmegoosebumps. Jesse’s voice falters just enough that his last linealmost sounds like a question, the last note of Ari’s answering backing vocals and the last chords of my guitar echo through the almost silent stadium as Luc whispers, “Jesse.”
And then he kisses him. In front of millions of people, both in this stadium and on televisions all around the country and the world, the all-American hero lays a truly romance-novel worthy kiss on the bad-boy rockstar that the haters said corrupted him.
It’s fucking beautiful.
What’s even better is how the entire stadium roars with thunderous applause.
Ari grips my arm so hard it hurts, but it grounds me. I look back at Naz, standing up from his drum kit with a huge smile on his face, clapping along with the crowd.
No one bows. We don’t say our closing remarks about loving one another and coming together for our neighbors. We don’t say that love and joy are resistance.
We don’t need the speech tonight. For once the point is loud enough to stand on its own.
THIRTY-EIGHT
ARI
Admittedly, I know next to nothing about football. I have a very basic knowledge of the basic rules and how the game is played, but half the time I lose track of the ball and have no idea what’s happening, and Naz has to relay what’s going on.
But it is an exciting game. Before halftime, Luc’s team,The Cyclones, were twelve points behind. Luc’s best friend Shawna, who I love immediately, explained to me that it’s statistically very unlikely for a team to come back and win a game going into halftime with that much of a deficit. But in the end, they did the damn thing.The Cycloneswin the game by four points after a really cute guy named Dez Carter intercepted the ball near the end zone with only twenty seconds left on the clock. I thought for sure the game was over, but it’s surprising how much time twenty seconds is when the clock starts and stops. In two plays, the team pulled off a touchdown with seconds to spare.
Confetti shoots everywhere, players rush the field, coaches shake hands, and the whole team is celebrating their first ever championship season.
The whole team except Luc Martín, that is. No one is exactly sure where he and Jesse ran off to, but Shawna makes a pretty crass joke about what they’re probably getting up to. Mr. Martín, Luc’s dad, rolls his eyes and tells her to behave like she’s his daughter too.
One of Luc’s teammates, a handsome guy with deep tan skin and curly black hair, runs over to where the group of us have congregated on the sidelines closest to the tunnel to our dressing room. I think I remember meeting him at the concert in New York that he used to basically trap Luc because he saw him on TV.
I can’t remember his name, but the way he looks at Shawna can only be described as an excited labrador puppy who thinks she has a treat for him. It’s adorable and hilarious. Shawna doesn’t seem to notice, though.
“Hey Shawna! Hey— Hi— It’s me, AJ. Uh, León... Luc’s best friend. On the team, of course. Because you’re his best-best friend…” He trails off, looking like he’d like the ground to swallow him.
“AJ, seriously, we’ve met like a dozen times. I know who you are,” she says in her sassy accent, and he perks right back up. He’s actually beaming.
“Wow,” Will says right next to me.
“Right?” I’m so amused right now.
