“Your dad’s been pretty excited all morning. He was up before dawn,” Mom teases, nudging my dad with her elbow.
“Give a guy a break,” Dad grumbles good-naturedly. “You’d be just as excited if this was Cirque du Soleil, Anne.”
Mom loops her arm through my dad’s and leans in to kiss his cheek. They talk amongst themselves, nuzzling noses and whatnot while we walk, so I stop paying attention. Instead, I take Greyston’s hand and lace our fingers together, leaning on his shoulder as we pass through the doors.
“They sure are passionate,” Greyston says, reaching into his back pocket for the tickets before handing them over to be scanned.
“Yup,” I agree, trying not to think about their…passion. “It’s great, because I know they’re incredibly happy, but you have to be careful because they go from zero to kinky in seconds.” Greyston laughs loudly. “You laugh now, but you can’t un-see the things I’ve been subjected to.”
“Should we grab a bite to eat before we find our seats?” Dad suggests.
We all decide that’s a good idea and head toward the concession. My parents stand in front of us, Mom’s arm still looped through Dad’s, and wait their turn. I’m looking up at the menu, trying to decide what I feel like having, when I feel Greyston’s body press up against my back. His arms wrap around my body, and he rests his chin on my shoulder, kissing my cheek before reading the menu boards too.
“I don’t know what I want,” I confess. “What’s good?”
“I’m a fan of the hotdogs,” he responds.
“Yeah?” He nods against my shoulder. “Okay then.”
Mom and Dad step away from the concession with their food; Mom opted for a slice of pizza, and Dad got a hamburger. When they turn around and see Greyston’s arms wrapped around me as we wait in line, they smile—yes, even Dad.
Greyston must notice too, because he gives me a gentle squeeze and kisses my cheek again before we step up to the cashier and order. We each get a hotdog and decide to share a soft drink. I flinch when I see the price of our food, but Greyston doesn’t, paying for it all with a smile before picking up our cardboard tray and leading the way to our seats.
There are already tons of people in their seats, and Dad seems like he’s losing his mind as we follow Greyston down the aisle. I can’t understand why; everything he says makes absolutely no sense to me because I don’t know a damn thing about football.
“You didn’t say the tickets were on the fifty-yard line, Greyston,” he says.
Chuckling, Greyston leads us down a row that’s about thirty rows back from the front one. “I had to keep a little mystery between us, Cam.”
While we finish eating, Dad and Greyston start talking football, and Mom and I try to keep up. I’m picking up bits and pieces—touchdowns, kickoffs, four downs—but I’m still feeling beyond lost. I mean, I understand some of it, but until I see it happening in front of me, I don’t know that I’ll fully grasp it. And even then I know I’ll have questions.
The game is set to start in less than a half-hour, and the crowd is simply buzzing. Looking around, I’m kind of astounded by the number of football jerseys in the stadium. It makes me want one.
“Hey,” I say, placing my hand on Greyston’s knee. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
He looks confused, standing when I stand and placing a hand on my waist. “Where are you going? Do you want me to come with you?”
I laugh, pressing my palm to his chest. “No, That’s okay. I’ll be right back. If I get lost, I’ll text you to come find me.”
Nodding, he leans in to give me a kiss and then lets me pass. On my way, I let my parents know I’ll be back and then head out of the seating area. I’m not sure where I have to go exactly, but there’s enough people milling about the area that I should be able to get directions.
I stop the first couple I see, and they gladly point me in the right direction. Thankfully, it’s not too far from where I came from, so I shouldn’t have too much trouble finding my way back.
When I reach the front of the line, I see that they have two different styles: one that’s mostly red, and another that’s mostly white with red sleeves. I mull it over for a couple of minutes before deciding on the white one. I thank the salesperson for basically robbing me blind, and then take my new jersey to the washroom so I can put it on.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see that it’s Greyston telling me kickoff is about to start.
I tap out a quick reply, telling him I’m on my way, and hit send. I quickly use the facilities, wash my hands, and then head back to my seat. I find the section easily enough and smile wide when Greyston’s eyes pop open upon seeing me.