I nodded and forced out, “Of course.”

His smile was slight—it simply tipped up his lips and softened his eyes.

But it was beautiful.

So beautiful, I leaned into him. When I did, his eyes changed completely. They went from soft and warm to intense and something else.

Something that looked darker.

Heated.

Even more beautiful.

I was trying to understand that reaction when Ethan broke the moment, crying loudly, “Dad! There’s Josh and Bryant! Can I hang with them?”

For a moment, Jake’s gaze held mine captive even as the pads of his fingers dug into my jaw.

Then he unfortunately dropped his hand and turned to his son.

“Not out of my sight, bud,” he ordered.

“Got it,” Ethan confirmed, jumped on the empty bench in front of us and dashed along it to the steps. He raced down the steps to two boys who were standing by the fence by the field.

“Sit, Slick,” Jake invited.

I looked from Ethan to him and I sat.

He sat next to me, curved an arm around my waist and pulled me the mere inches that separated us so that we were hip to hip, thigh to thigh.

Oh.

My.

I took in a trembling breath and looked about the space.

The field was bare as were the player’s benches. The away crowd bleachers were filling up fast but not as fast as the home crowd’s section around us. There was a lot of yellow and blue, which I knew were the school colors.

I saw the cheerleaders milling about behind the team bench, preparing for their work that evening. The air was very chilly and the spectators were suited up to battle the chill in hats, scarves, heavy parkas and jackets and even gloves. And there were many children and young adults about, the young adults not nearly as prepared to face the cold evening, as it was clear they preferred their peers to see their fashion selections and not to cover them with heavy coats that would keep them warm.

It was then it occurred to me that the last sporting event I attended was a football game at my own high school decades ago.

And it also occurred to me that back then for a brief period of time, I’d loved football.

My clandestine boyfriend Andy played thus I never missed a game. I never even missed a play. I was enthralled by watching him on the field. And I looked forward every Friday night to going to the game with my girlfriends, watching my boyfriend play football then sneaking in a date with him after, and after that, sneaking in kissing him for as long as we could do it before it became too dangerous to continue and we’d have to stop so I could get home.

I’d been happy then.

I’d been normal then.

I didn’t have to pretend.

I had it all.

And then my father took it all away.

“You good?”

Jake’s voice pulled me from my maudlin thoughts and I looked to hm.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Warm enough?” he went on.

“Indeed, Jake.” I quieted my voice when I said with feeling, “Thank you for the scarf.”

I got the slight smile with soft eyes before he carried on, “Can you see okay?”

He was so very kind, considerate…amazing.

I nodded.

“Good,” he murmured, looking to the field and giving me a squeeze, which pressed me even deeper to his side.

I wanted to keep pretending. I really did. And how I wanted to do that was to press even closer. Put my head on his shoulder. Wrap my arm around his back and hold him to me too. Even wrap both my arms around him, stomach and back, keeping him close.

But I couldn’t keep pretending.

And further, I had to find a restroom.

“Before things start, I need to use the facilities,” I told his profile and got his eyes, which were now not softly smiling but openly doing it, as was his mouth.

“Right, Slick. The facilities are behind the concession stand, south end of the field,” he informed me, tipping his head to the left.

“Thanks, Jake,” I murmured. “I’ll be back.”

“You got time. Game doesn’t start for fifteen minutes,” he told me as I stood but he carried on. “Sayin’ that, hurry.”

I looked down at him to see him looking in the vicinity of my behind in my jeans exposed by my gray suede jacket before his eyes drifted up and caught mine and they were still smiling.

“I’ll hurry,” I assured him then I did just that.

I hurried.

Or, at least I started out hurrying.

After I washed my hands and left the restrooms, I mentally shook myself from the fantasy world I’d allowed myself to live in all day.

It was pleasant being there and it was lovely giving myself that but I couldn’t stay there for long. I had to remember how things were. If I stayed in that world too long, I knew I’d eventually get a reminder that it wasn’t mine and the pain that would cause would be harder to overcome the longer I allowed myself to pretend.

On this thought, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and looked right to see Conner standing under a light pole some distance away from the bleachers but also not close to the concession stand.

He was standing with a flaxen-haired girl who was quite curvy, quite tall and very attractive. I also liked the way that it didn’t seem she cared what people thought of her attire. She was trussed up warm but she’d managed to do it fashionably with a thick loosely woven oyster-colored scarf around her neck and a dusky pink corduroy jacket. She was even wearing a cute pair of mittens.

She was also standing close to Conner, looking up at him and smiling in an appealing way that was genuine if a little timid.

She must be Ellie and just seeing her made me agree further with Ethan that I hoped Conner chose her in the end.

Jake’s eldest must have sensed my eyes for his came to me; he grinned and jerked up his chin. Ellie looked my way and as she did so, slid slightly closer to Conner who took that opportunity to curve his arm around her shoulders.

Yes, they looked lovely together.

I gave them a wave and a smile and decided not to approach. This was a high school football game and he was with his girl (or one of them). He didn’t need an adult intruding.

But as I moved away, I took in the lines standing in front of the concession stand. I also noted that the game had not started although the players had taken the field and were warming up. And finally, it occurred to me that hot drinks might warm Jake and me from the inside.

Therefore, I moved to the back of the somewhat long line, pulled my phone out of my purse and called him.

He answered with, “You get lost?”

I laughed softly and replied, “No, Jake. But I’m in line at the concession stand. I thought we could use a hot beverage. Would you like a coffee or cocoa?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

So.

Very.

Amazing.

“Jake, I can handle a few drinks. What do you want?”

“I’ll be there in a minute and I’ll get it.”

“Jake,” I said softly. “You bought dinner at The Eaves, and our omelets, and dinner tonight. In return, the least I can do is purchase two beverages and carry them back to the bleachers. Further, if you leave our seats, we might lose them.”

“The blanket’s here,” was his reply and at hearing it, I burst out laughing.

Yes.

So.

Very.

Amazing.

When I stopped laughing, I asked, “You’re quite determined to take care of me, aren’t you?”

His voice was low in a way my stomach dipped when he returned, “Glad you noticed.”

I couldn’t not notice, and with the way he behaved, I was finding it hard not to pretend.

My voice was just above a whisper when I requested, “Please let me buy you a drink.”

“Hot chocolate,” he finally ordered and I smiled into the phone.

“For Ethan?” I asked.

“Ethan’s got ten bucks. He wants something, he’ll get it. But it won’t be hot chocolate. It’ll be a load of crap.”

I was still smiling when I replied, “All right,” then moved the two centimeters forward that the line had moved. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Later, Slick.”

“Later, Jake.”

I rang off at the same time I became aware that the young man in front of me was staring at me openly, his lips parted.

As I became aware of this, I noted that he was somewhat short, very slim, obviously effeminate and he was wearing a daring pair of houndstooth trousers. He’d accompanied these with a rather stylish pair of black suede loafers and a black turtleneck sweater.

The ensemble could use a fedora as a finishing touch but regardless of that assessment, I was taken with his flair for fashion.

“Hello,” I said when he continued to stare at me in apparent astonishment.

“You’re Josie,” he informed me of a truth that was nevertheless surprising that he knew.

“Indeed I am,” I confirmed. “And you are?”

He stuck his hand out. “Taylor. I’m Amber’s bestest bestie. Or one of them.”

Ah.

The Jean-Michel devotee.

This explained the trousers and the loafers.

I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Delighted to meet you, Taylor. Amber’s spoken of you.”

He squeezed my hand back and let it go, saying, “She’s spoken of you too, like lots. She thinks you’re the bomb.”

I had learned this was good and I knew it felt good so I smiled.

Then I shared, “Your ensemble is very fashion forward and you carry it off with aplomb. However, it needs a fedora.”

His face lit up, he leaned in and exclaimed, “I know! Right?” He leaned back and smiled, finishing, “But not sure I could pull off a fedora at a Magdalene High game. I’ll be lucky I don’t get tripped, pushed or run down before the night is through just wearing these trousers.”

He waved a hand to his lower body but I felt my brows draw together.

“And why would you get tripped, pushed or run down?” I asked.

“Uh…I’m a seventeen year old gay guy wearing houndstooth at a high school football game?” he asked back as an answer.

Ah.

That certainly answered that.

“I see,” I murmured. “Well, I wish I had some sage advice for you, young Taylor, but alas, I don’t. Small-minded fools are everywhere and those with the courage to be who they are often have to suffer them. It’s your lot, I’m afraid. But at least you can rest in the knowledge that you are true to yourself knowing they live in a narrow world, a narrow world is a barren world while yours is vibrant, and that’s their lot.”

When I finished speaking, he was staring up at me again with his lips parted, astonishment awash in his features and I was just about to say something (such as that he should move forward the seven centimeters the line had moved) when I felt others joining the line at my back.

They were talking. They were also boys.

And what they were discussing gained the entirety of my attention.

“You totally looked through Amber like she wasn’t even there,” a boy said.

I blinked as I watched Taylor’s eyes get very wide.

“She looks good tonight. Real good. Somethin’ different about her face,” another boy mumbled.

“You done with her?” a further one asked.

“Bitch has got to toe the line,” a fourth one with a very deep voice declared. “Don’t dig teases. Amber Spear is a total tease. All that hair. Short skirts. But I got my hands on her and she won’t let me get one up that skirt? Fuck that.”

My back went straight and I watched Taylor’s face pale.

“And her dad’s a pain in my ass,” the fourth one with the deep voice concluded.

“You’re just shit scared of him ‘cause Spear could kick your ass, even if he’s an old guy,” one of the other voices said.

Excuse me?

Jake was not old.

Actually, I had no idea of his age but I knew he wasn’t old. I knew this because I’d seen him work out.

“Whatever,” the deepest voice went on. “He won’t let her go to Boston to see Bounce with us. I mean seriously? What’s up with that? That’s fucked up. Chelsea and Brooke are goin’ and their parents don’t give a fuck.”

The concert Amber wanted to see was Bounce.

At that point, I wished she’d informed me of that.

And two second later, after the one with the deep voice said what he said next, I made a split-second decision and, rather foolishly, sallied forth acting on it.

“Thought I’d get in there, pop that. She’s hot but if Amber likes her cherry that much, she can keep it.”