I'd like to say the hardest part of the night is over, considering dinner and dessert are now finished, but my father's wary gaze hasn't gone unnoticed, at least not by me. He's lingering more than usual, leaning on the counter while I clear the table with Delezar.
"Oh no, you don't have to do this," Mom says, grabbing one of the glasses from Del's hands and placing it on the counter.
"She's Canadian; she won't say no," I add smugly.
"You think you're funny?" Del turns to me, raising an eyebrow.
"Then you can help her," Mom laughs, picking up a dish and placing it in my hands.
"Is your family back in Canada?" She asks, placing the rest of the dishes in the sink.
"Yes, but I see them in the summer," Del adds, her voice faltering slightly.
"Her brother goes to Michigan," I say, still feeling my father's gaze burning into my back.
"Is he playing a sport too?" Mom asks, and Del smiles.
"Soccer. Our mom loves soccer, so we both got into it." She pauses. "I'd like to say I'm better, though." That earns a laugh from both of us as Sloan walks in.
"Hey, Sofia, I was wondering if you'd take a look at my shot. I have the tapes in my room, fifteen minutes tops."
"Absolutely." She smiles, placing the dish she was holding into my hands, and I roll my eyes as Sloan leads her upstairs.
"That must be hard, being so far from her family," Mom says sincerely, glancing at me over her shoulder.
"Or refreshing," I mutter.
"Builds character; seems like she doesn't have to be watched." Of course, he gets that dig in.
Mom shoots him a warning glance, and I feel the tension spike.
"You know what?" She exhales. "Why don't you go get your room set up and your father and I will handle the mess." I nod, grateful for the escape, and head upstairs.
+++
I lay on my bed for what feels like a short five minutes when my door abruptly bursts open. "We're watching a movie downstairs," Sloan announces, dragging Sofia along with her. I follow them down the steps, finding my mom bustling around in the spotless kitchen while my father remains seated at the table, watching everything with a keen eye.
I lounge sideways on the larger sofa, diagonally from Sloan, and pull Delezar down onto me.
"You want me on top of you that bad?" she sneers, her voice only audible to my ears. I roll my eyes at her cocky remark.
"More like solidifying the deal, since up until now we could be mistaken for best friends," I mutter back.
She shifts up, resting her forearm on my chest laying her head down, and as comfortable we may look, her body remains stiff on top of me. "You're lucky I'm playing for keeps," she mutters, her eyes staying on the movie Sloan picked.
"Question," my mom calls from the kitchen. "Any preference for breakfast? I'm thinking pancakes and fruit. Bananas? Strawberries?" Her voice carries over, causing Sofia to lift her head.
"I'm good with anythâ"
"Grapes, green ones," I cut her off, earning a glare.
"The greenest grapes it is!" My mom chimes and I hear her rummage through the fridge. Del puts her head back down resting a bit more relaxed this time.
"Your head is heavy," I grumble.
"That's because I actually have a brain." She retorts.
I'm not even sure what we're watching or how much time has gone by because all I can focus on is the heat of my father's constant gaze. When I finally tear my eyes away from pretending to be intrigued by the movie, I peek behind the couch to see that he's gone.
Stephan Westerman - 1
James Westerman - 0
I look down to see Sofia's head still resting against my chest. "You still playing for keeps?" I ask lowly, but she doesn't respond.
I move her hair out of her face to see she's out cold, brown hair sprawled over me, half her face embedded in my hoodie, drooling on my sweater... her hand between my thighs.
"That's cute," Sloan snaps me out of my thoughts, her phone out, snapping a picture.
"Go to bed."
She responds with a dramatic sigh as she shuts off the movie and heads upstairs.
"Del," I say, shaking her lightly, but she doesn't budge. "Delezar," I shake her a bit harder, and she reacts by moving her hand higher. Jesus Christ.
"What's this?" Her groggy voice mumbles as she lifts her head slightly.
"My dick."
"What?" Her head shoots up, eyes wide. "Why is itâ"
"Because, sweetheart, I'm not gay." I look at her, bored.
She shoots up from her position. "I'm going to bed," she says, fixing her sweater that had ridden up, showing her toned stomach, and brushing down her hair.
"You do that." I follow her up the stairs and into my room. I make my way to the closet, grabbing one of my old training camp football T-shirts.
"Here," I toss the shirt, and she catches it with ease. Turning back around, I grab another blanket from the closet and then a pillow off the bed.
"Are you sleeping on the floor?" she questions.
"And feel like shit in the morning for practice? No, I'm taking the couch."
She eyes me, and I smirk in response. "Clearly, you can't keep your hands off me. Rather not take my chances," I tease, earning an eye roll from her.
"Yes, Stephan, you caught me. You're so irresistible." Her arms cross, and her eyes bore into mine. I turn around, facing the closet, taking off my hoodie and slipping on an old T-shirt.
"Goodnight, Delezar," I say before shutting the door and heading downstairs to set myself up on the couch.
"Fighting already?" My dad's voice carries into the room, devoid of any humor.
Great.
"We're taking things slow," I reply, staring at the ceiling and his silence as ill take for lack of arguments tells me all i need to know.
Stephan Westerman-2
James Westerman- 0
Let's go with that, slow.
+++
Sofia is anything but slow. She maneuvers the ball around her opponents with ease, moving at the speed of light. One moment they think they have her, and the next she's executed some fancy footwork and blown right past them. Like I've said before, I'm not the biggest fan of soccer, but watching her, it's hard not to be. She's incredible.
The game is tied at 2-2, with Delezar having scored one of those goals. I watch as one of her teammates lines up an intercepted pass, and in seconds Sofia reacts, stealing the ball back, pushing it forward, and taking the shot.
"Sofia Delezar again!"
Her shot is flawless, perfectly positioned with a curve to the top right corner of the net. The goalie had no chance. I watch as Del runs down the field, twisting her ponytail and throwing it to the other side of her in celebrationâthe same celebration Sloan showed me that I remember looking a lot less amusing.
"You get it now," Sloan says, a smug expression on her face.
"What are you doing here?" A voice interrupts, and I shift my gaze from Sloan's now-annoyed expression to see who she's looking atâAlix Russell.
"Could ask you the same thing," I respond, turning back to face the field.
"Heard you were here," she pauses. "Now you."
I keep my eyes fixed on Del. "So the rumors are true," she responds.
"It's only a rumor if it's untrue," Sloan hums, and Alix shoots her a daggered look and Sloan motions to her phone and heads out, clearly insinuating her ride and a better excuse not to be around Alix, whom she isn't fond of.
"She was kissing that Charlie Puth wannabe some weeks ago."
"Jealousy isn't a good look on you,"
"Jealous." She scoffs ""You guys should totally come to Tebow's party." She smiles.
"Why? Tebow doesn't like me, and I doubt Del wants to go."
"Del..." She tsks. "Think of it as an opportunity to be out as a couple, see all your friends, have fun."
I consider her words. Not about seeing friends; I couldn't give a shit about that. But it could kill all the birds with one stone, make an appearance together save the individual interactions. I glance back at the field where the teams are now shaking hands.
"Maybe."