So the Season's Changed Your Face

The bleachers were crowded as fuck – not that I expected any different of the homecoming game. I was leading Mike by the wrist through the bleachers, scanning the crowd for two seats next to each other or for friendly faces, whichever I saw first. Both were proving to be difficult.

Luckily for us, a particular blond haired girl popped up and waved us over eagerly.

“Who’s that?” Mike asked, following me through the cramped aisle, being careful to not tread on anyone or fall over.

“Oh, that’s Christine,” I answered. “She’s, uhhh, a friend.”

For obvious reasons, I neglected to tell Mike I intended to spend the evening with my new group of friends, which consists of Bill Beckett, Christine Bandy, Jack Edinger, and Adam Siska. I figured it would have been a deal breaker for Mike if he knew who he was going to be stuck with all evening.

We finally reached Christine and the seats she had reserved for all of us. Both Adam (and his magnificent fro) and Bill were missing. “I’m glad you guys are here,” Christine said. “People are starting to get upset with Jack and me for taking up five seats.”

She motioned to the three empty seats between her and Jack, which were covered in jackets and bags. Looking around the crowded stadium, I can understand why people were upset with Christine and Jack for hoarding five seats.

Christine jerked her head toward the black-clad Mike and mouthed, “Is that him?”, a wide smile on her face.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “Christine, Jack, this is the mysterious Mike Carden, AKA the boyfriend I’ve been talking incessantly about for the past month.”

“It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to a name,” Christine said, acknowledging Mike with a toothy smile and a wave. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Mike said, nodding at Christine and turning around to shake hands with Jack. “Who’s the fifth seat for?”

“Oh, William’s going to be back in a bit. He said he had to get something from the car. Booze, no doubt,” Christine answered, taking her seat. “Here, I’ll take those.” She added, gesturing to the jackets splayed across the metal bench.

I cleared a space for Mike and me to sit and realized there wasn’t a seat reserved for Adam. “Where’s Sisky?”

“Oh,” Christine started, a smile forming on her face. “He ditched us for a girl. I don’t think he wanted to subject her to our collective presence. He’s probably afraid we’d harass her.”

“Smart move on his part. We probably would harass the poor girl,” I shook my head, grinning. “Bill definitely would.”

Christine stood up and looked around, presumably searching for Bill in the crowd. Mike took this opportunity to tap me on the thigh. I turned and gave him a questioning look. “Bill? As in William Beckett, Bill? He’s going to be here too?”

He looked irritated.

I sighed, exasperated. “Yes, William Beckett is going to be hanging out with us.”

“You didn’t tell me we’d be hanging out with him, Vivi!” he whispered angrily.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew!” I hissed, attempting to keep our conversation private.

“Damn right I wouldn’t have come,” he retorted stubbornly.

I rolled my eyes, thoroughly irritated with him. “I don’t even know what the issue is. It’s not like he’s actually done anything to you.”

Mike didn’t have a response to this, so he just crossed his arms and looked angrily ahead.

“Mike,” I started, annoyed. “He’s one of my friends. Can you at least give him a try? Please? For me?”

Mike faltered and sighed. “Fine, fine. But if he’s an asshole, I’m going to be an asshole right back.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will,” I paused and smiled. “Thanks.” I kissed him swiftly on the cheek.

“You’re welcome,” he grumbled, but his cheeks were pink nonetheless.

And right on cue, Bill could be seen climbing up the bleachers, awkwardly holding the side of his jacket. He walked cautiously down the aisle we were occupying, careful not to drop what was probably a small bottle of cheap liquor.

“Hi, Vivi!” Bill called cheerfully. He must have looked past me and seen the clearly unamused Mike. “And you must be Mike Carden. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’d shake your hand, but…”

Bill was still holding his booze.

“So, what’d you bring us, babe?” Christine asked, patting the seat next to her.

With a triumphant smile, Bill presented a small bottle of Jameson – his personal favorite. He took a seat, screwed off the cap, took a generous swig, and passed the bottle along.

As Christine was taking a sip, Bill leaned in toward us. “You’re welcome to have some, Mike. Granted you aren’t afraid of cooties.”

“Bill, Jameson is fucking eighty proof,” Jack said, leaning in. “I don’t think any of the germs we have can survive anything this alcoholic.”

Christine handed me the bottle; I declined a drink – for now – and passed it to Mike. He hesitated but got over whatever qualms he apparently had because he took a healthy drink, probably because it isn’t often he is presented with good, free booze.

Jack took a swallow and shook his head dramatically. “That’ll put hair on your chest. Anyone else?”

William made a gesture for the bottle and down the line it went.

I leaned over to Mike, putting my lips very close to his ear. “I told you you’d have a good time,” I whispered.

“I’m not having fun yet,” he rebutted, though I knew he was being difficult on purpose. Mike does not like being wrong, but he hates me being right even more.

“Oh, but you will,” I said smugly, motioning for the Jameson and taking a drink. “Because there’s always fun to be had when alcohol’s involved.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Mike grinned, taking the bottle from me and gulping down another swallow.

And suddenly, a wildly great idea popped into my head. “Hey, Christine, do you want to come get refreshments with me? I don’t want to have to leave in the middle of the game and risk missing something.”

This was a total lie and Christine knew it, but she caught my drift and agreed to come along. “Jack!” she called. “You should come with us. We can probably use the extra hands.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jack complied. “Better than hanging around this sausage fest.”

Mike gave me a suspicious look. I smiled as innocently as I possibly could at him. “Do you want anything?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he accused, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I smirked. “Do you want a hot dog?”

Mike continued to look calculatingly at me, but then his stomach rumbled quite audibly. “Yeah, okay, I’ll take a fucking hot dog but-”

“No relish, yeah, I know, Mike,” I finished for him, smiling. “Do know how many hot dogs I have eaten with you, Mike? At least twenty. I know how you like your hot dogs.”

“Just making sure you remember the tiny things,” he said.

“Mike, how could I forget the tiny things when you drill them into my head?” I asked, standing up. “Okay, bye! Make friends!”