Page 77 of All at Once

When a player from Real Madrid heads the ball back into the field, I laugh to myself, remembering I never told them about my own football experience. “When I was in middle school,” I say loud enough for them both to hear me, “I was a forward on our football team.”

“Oh no,” Luca chimes in.

I chuckle. “I remember trying my best to show off so I tried to head the ball instead of kicking it since I really thought I had improved, but then I just ended up hitting the ball with my face instead.” I hear both of their laughter. “Long story short, my glasses broke right in half, and my mom taped a band-aid colored in navy Sharpie to hide it. And let’s just say it did aterriblejob at hiding it.”

As their laughter subsides and Enrique focuses on the game again, I turn toward Luca and ask, “Wait. Did you ever watchThe Suite Life of Zack & Cody?”

His brows furrow with a slight smile. “That was one of the only shows I could stand onDisney Channelgrowing up, so yes. Why?”

“I looked like the janitor on that show with those glasses,” I explain, smiling at how Luca always seems to pick up on my extremely random references.

He chortles. “Shit. I know exactly who you’re talking about. His name was Arwin, right?”

“Yes! Arwin! He was iconic.”

“Actually? Now that you mention it, you kind of remind me of him. Didn’t he break at least one thing each episode?” he says, while biting down on his bottom lip.

I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. And yes, Iabsolutelysee the similarities.

Luca then raises his brows and barely leans in, making me feel a bit dizzy when I feel a trace of his breath. “And he was obsessed with that one lady and kept making all these gestures to be with her. Also kind of like—”

I gesture with my hands and interrupt, “Okay. I get it. We’re practicallytwins.” I roll my eyes before looking away.

But my body’s itching to look back. Even though I know I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t have.Considering how my heartbeat skyrockets as our eyes meet again, while his laughter subsides. All the warmth and delight radiating from his cheeks almost pools into my stomach, making my legs all wobbly.

Before I have a chance to analyze this interaction, my attention is drawn to a little girl who appears to have dropped her bag on the stairs at the end of the aisle. The contents of her bag are scattered across the stairs, including a decent assortment of stationary.

No one, including her mother behind her, seems to have realized this though, too invested in the game.

She looks surprised. She looks embarrassed. But most of all, she lookslost.

I know the feeling.

It’s almost like a flashback from my childhood unfolding right before my eyes. Where no one seems to even notice that she’s struggling.

As I’m about to go and help her, I notice Luca’s already walking over toward her. Quickly catching up to him, I gently tap his shoulder, and his eyes give away that he knows that I want to help her.

When I reach the stairs, I quickly reassure, “It’s okay.” The young girl’s expression relaxes slightly, while I pick up all her items and place them inside the bag. My understanding smile is met with her shy one as I hand her bag back to her. A bag filled with things that most likely mean the world to her. Maybe that’s why my eyes sting a little. It’s as if I’m looking through the eyes of a younger me.

Luca’s smile when I return back is so vulnerable that I could burst into tears, and oddly not at all from sadness. “That was really nice of you,” he says so sincerely that I almost need to look away.

“I know the feeling of getting lost in a crowd like this,” I say, my voice shaky. “It can feel daunting.”

He nods with a familiar kind of warmth, that for a second I’m glad that the game distracts us again, wanting to talk to him about so many things including this moment, but not knowing whereanyof this is going. The butterflies unfortunately come running back when Real Madrid scores another goal as Luca and I go in for a hug this time.

It’s nice to have an excuse to hug him again.But remembering what happened after the last time, we both pull away, with oursmiles being awkward at best. I turn my attention toward Enrique, and then jump when I realize he’s glancing over at us.

Although he’s smiling, there’s somethingelsehidden behind his lips. Almost a trace of suspicion. Yet it’s too subtle for me to question it.

When the final score reads 3-2 Real Madrid, Luca and I try our best not to celebrate too much, given how we’re sitting on the opponent’s side, and don’t particularly feel the need to be ambushed in a sports quarrel on this sunny afternoon.

_________

After going a bit overboard at the Real Madrid gift shop on our way out, Luca, Enrique, and I walk toward the stadium’s entrance, when Enrique tells us, “I have to use the restroom. I’ll meet you guys out front.”

Avoiding Luca was part of the original plan. Spending more time with him alone, though just minutes, wasnot.

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