Page 81 of Love and Other Chances

“Speaking of, I’d love to hear more about your experience with The Hangout while you were there, Lana,” Brooks says, turning his attention to her. “Teegan told me you were an ELL tutor, and I’ve gotten to know Sofia a little bit on Tuesdays. Well, even more so once she figured out I was interested in Teegan. She suddenly had frequent reasons to talk to me.”

Lana bursts out laughing. “That sounds like the Sofia I know.” She begins sharing about her experience with Brooks, and I notice Brooks leans in with a furrowed brow, as focused as I’ve ever seen him as he grills her with questions. Lana meets his intensity brow for brow, lean for lean.

Mateo smiles and raises his eyebrows at me from across the table. I successfully stifle my laugh this time.

I stifle zero laughs once we get to the soccer game. Even though the team consists of fourth graders, Lana cheers them on (and yells at the refs) as though watching one of Mateo’s professional matches. It’sexactly how I remember her when I accompanied her to the soccer matches our senior year, after they started dating.

“I understand now,” Brooks whispers in my ear, nodding his head in Lana’s direction. His exaggerated wide-eye expression forces another burst of giggles out of me. For as much as Lana is losing her mind, Mateo is completely calm and collected, calling out instructions in both English and Spanish to the players on the field. Watching them huddle around him and his white board during half time is about as adorable as you could get.

After Mateo’s team wins the match, Lana heads to help pass out post-game snacks. Brooks and I follow her down, and he’s soon in the thick of the kids, congratulating them and pointing out all their good moves. The crowd eventually dissipates as the players follow one of the other coaches out of the complex.

“So do you provide transportation to and from the games?” Brooks asks Mateo as we walk out to the car.

“Yep. A lot of these kids wouldn’t have a parent or guardian available to get them to and from games and practices. They’re working long hours at multiple jobs most of the time,” Mateo responds, and Brooks nods thoughtfully.

“We got a grant to provide healthy snacks for the kids too,” Lana says. “They get a snack at the beginning of every practice or game and again at the end. Otherwise, too many of them would be trying to exercise on empty stomachs.”

“The wraparound support really is phenomenal,” Brooks says. He taps his temple. “I’m taking lots of mental notes.”

We pick up pizza for dinner, taking it back to the apartment. After eating, Lana suggests we play team Dutch Blitz, a popular card game among Arrow students during college. We fill Brooks in on the rules, and he catches on quickly. We’re soon beating Lana and Mateo every hand.

“Ugh,” Lana whines. She turns to Mateo. “Babe, stop being so nice! You’ve got to let your competitive side out. Division playoffs mode—come on!”

Mateo pinches her waist and leans over to kiss her neck. “You’re competitive enough for both of us!”

“That’s it!” Lana exclaims, playfully pushing Mateo away. “We’re playing boys versus girls.”

“Yes!” I exclaim, high-fiving Lana.

Brooks fist bumps Mateo and says, “The Beefs versus the Bros.”

Of course, Mateo pulls out all the stops now, simply to get a rise out of Lana. We’re all shrieking and practically slapping each other’s hands as we smack cards down on piles. When all is said and done, the Bros are victorious and the Beefs are stewing.

I’m sulky about the loss, and Lana is straight up glaring daggers at Mateo. Brooks and Mateo are celebrating with dramatic flair, dancing as though completely unbothered by our ire.

Mateo breaks first (no surprise there). He stands behind Lana and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “Come on now—don’t be a sore loser.” Lana’s frown remains firmly in place, but Mateo whispers something that causes her to fight a smile. Then he says, “How about we go get slushies? That always makes everything better.”

Lana huffs her agreement, and we both drop our angry acts.

Brooks quirks an eyebrow, looking over at me. “Slushies? Why slushies?”

Mateo claps him on the back. “You still have so much to learn. Don’t worry—you’ll soon be acquainted with all the Beefs lore.”

Chapter thirty-one

The next morning, muffled voices in the kitchen alert me that I’m likely the last one to wake up, no surprise. I throw on a sweatshirt and stumble to the bathroom to brush my teeth. And my hair. And to splash cold water on my face.

There’s a doctored-up cup of coffee waiting for me when I join Lana, Mateo, and Brooks at the table. “Morning! What’s the plan for today?” I ask before taking a long drink of caffeine.

“We thought we’d eat a quick breakfast here, and then Brooks said he wants to see theTodos Juntosoffice,” Lana answers.

Mateo cuts in, “Even though I told him it’s a boring office in a commercial building. We practice at different parks and facilities around the area that let us use their spaces for free or highly discounted rates.”

“Hey, if it’s an important part of the daily life of Lana and Mateo, then I want to see the boring building,” Brooks says.

I smile over at him, touched by his interest in my friends.

“And then we planned to head to downtown Baltimore. You can see where I take all my classes, and then we can find something fun to do for a while before we come back here for dinner,” Lana says.

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