Page 140 of For the Fans
“Oh, look,” he changes the subject. “Here’s a Jesus-freak telling us we’re going to burn in Hell for all eternity.” He points at the screen while laughing.
The amusement falls from my face in an instant, and my mouth goes dry.
I’m finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden, but I need to fight it. I can’t let Avi know I’m suffocating inside my skin.
“W-what… would you do about that?” I ask, struggling to sound normal, while I open my shaky hand and stare down at my palm.
Everything’s fine.
You’re here, and you’re okay.
Just focus on Avi’s voice.
It’s echoing a bit as he rambles about blocking the guy. But I latch onto it and pull myself out of the hole I’m falling into. I grab on tight and claw my way back up to the surface.
There’s Highland Ave, I think to myself, following the lines on my palm.I used to ride my bike up and down here with my friends. And, look, it’s that place with the really great Thai food.
Slowly, my heart rate evens out, and my breathing regulates. I peer at Avi, who’s still just laughing about how stupid people on the internet are, with no idea of the mini panic attack I just fought off.
I wonder what he would say if he knew… The truth.
When he notices I’m not laughing with him, his head whips in my direction, irises like deep fog shining at me. “Ky… are you okay?”
“I… I’m fine,” I mumble, urging myself to sound confident.
You sound like an idiot. He’s totally going to know something’s up.
Quick. Change the subject.
“We should really get going.” Standing up fast, I wander away, going for my phone in my bag, in an attempt to distract him from how cagey I’m being out of nowhere.
I’m sure he’s staring at me. I can feel it. But he doesn’t say anything.
He simply closes his laptop and stands up, tugging on a shirt as he chirps, “Okay.”
Ten minutes later, we’re outside, walking up to the main road to meet our Uber driver. I can’t help but peek at Avi while we trudge along, bag slung over his shoulder, wearing his standard ripped black jeans and black boots. His top half is covered by a black puffy coat, with a hot pink beanie resting atop his main of shaggy hair.
We seriously couldn’t look more different… Me in my Burberry peacoat my dad got me for Christmas last year, Tom Ford boots, and my jeans fully intact. Light hair and pale skin to his olive complexion and messy dark strands in his eyes. He even has on fingerless gloves, displaying his perpetually chipped black nail polish.
But for some reason, our differences aren’t irritating me like they normally do. Right now, I’m just walking beside him, wondering how it’s possible that after all we’ve done together, and how many years he’s been in my life, I still don’t feel like I reallyknowhim.
Sure, I know the basic stuff. The things I’ve learned over the years of him being a reluctant member of the family. But Avi Vega himself… His history, the things he cares for and dreams about, therealstuff, beneath the surface… It’s all a mystery to me.
“They said it’s supposed to start snowing later…” he says, his breath visible in the cold air as he gazes up at the sky.
I just nod at the small talk, my head still cluttered with all these thoughts. We’re both silent for a few steps, nothing but the sounds of our boots on the pavement clomping in my ears.
“So… how do you feel about the game?” He speaks again, and my eyes slink right.
“We could’ve played better.” I shrug. “Their defense was no joke.”
He nods. “But still… three touchdowns.” He pauses while I squint at him. “You played really well, Ky. You should be less hard on yourself.”
My lips twitch. “So you’re actively watching all the games now? Paying attention to my performance…”
He rolls his eyes, and I chuckle. “I just want to make sure you’re doing alright without me.”
Scowling, I give him an unamused look. “Oh, you meanyourperformance?”
