“Question for Orlando Onassis,” a woman in the front row says, and I snap back to attention. “Your comeback game today was one of the best matches of your season. How’d you pull it off?”
He leans forward into the mic. “I had an amazing group behind my recovery,” he says. “But honestly, coming back to this team is like coming home. It’s easy to jump in the action when your teammates are this good.”
Zeke leans forward with a serious look on his face. “We always knew Orlando’s injury was temporary,” he says. “Couldn’t be happier to have him back with us.”
Some relief eases through me that he’s not seeming to hold anything against Orlando.
“Another question for Onassis,” calls out a man in the back. “You’ve been dodging tabloids about your dating life for weeks now. What about this new story that you’re seeing a married man?”
I immediately tense. That’s not even true. I hate that Orlando’s spotlight is going over to this shit. That rumor is a serious hit to his reputation.
“Questions about the game,” Zeke says sternly.
Orlando leans forward. “For the record, I would never participate in someone cheating,” he says into the mic.
“And no response to the rest of it?” the man asks.
I glance over at Mel, and she’s furiously typing into her phone. “This is bullshit,” she whispers.
“I’m bi, if that’s what you’re asking,” Orlando says, earning a slight reaction in the crowd. “But I wasn’t planning to share that today. Today’s the day the Philly Force won the MLS Cup in our home stadium, if you didn’t notice. So like my captain said, any more questions about that topic?”
An approving chuckle goes through the room, and Mel looks up, impressed. “Okay,” she says. “Well played.”
He just came out of the closet, and more pride swells behind my ribs. Syed rubs Orlando’s shoulder, and a few guys give him encouraging nods. I finally do let myself catch his eye for a minute, and when I give him a half-smile, I see the light in Orlando’s eyes.
Mel leans close. “Troy,” she whispers. “He’s got the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand.”
I cross my arms over my chest. It’s true. He’s as charming as he’s ever been, natural and confident at the front of the crowded room.
“It’s good,” I tell her as the questions move on.
“Maybe now’s the time?” Mel whispers.
“What?” I say, louder than I meant, so I hunch over and lower my voice. “Not now.”
“There probably won’t be an opportune moment at the press conference,” she says, “but preferably you can do it while everyone is still at the stadium. That would be ideal.”
I shake my head. “That’s crazy,” I rasp at her. She can’t be serious.
The reporter withSports Illustratedhas a question about offensive strategy, and the team answers it together, their camaraderie on display. When they’re done, though, the reporter has a quick follow-up.
“I hope you won’t kill me for asking, but I have to try,” he says. “Orlando, seeing anyone special?”
Orlando pushes his hand through his hair, and his confidence wavers slightly. “Uh, no comment, I guess.”
“Shit,” Mel whispers as she scrolls through her phone. “Everyone is speculating about the married man comment. We need a stronger narrative.”
The moderator looks out over the room. “We should be wrapping up, but we have time for one last question. Maybe something light?”
“Troy!” Mel grabs my arm. “This is your opening!”
“Mel,” I grunt at her, imploring. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely now. Just remember! Puppy dog eyes! Big cornball! Gooey center to your stone heart, that’s what sells. Do it!”
“What am I even supposed to do?”
“Do it, do it,” she repeats, and when I keep frowning, she pinches my arm. “Now!” she whispers.
