AR - Evening

At the apartment, Adella finally returns to find you setting out dinner. It’s soup from a can and salad from a kit, but they were a fancy can and a fancy kit, and you tried to make it look cute. You made sandwiches from fancy bread, cheese, and ham which you baked in the oven to make them melty. It’s… kind of like cooking.

It’s not until Adella is inside and setting down her backpack that you realize that you didn’t get dressed after your shower. You’re setting the table in nothing but a tee. Your hair’s still damp.

Adella doesn’t say anything, though. She just lifts the hem of your shirt to see what color your underwear is, then kisses you as you swat her hand away. She sits down with a sigh as you go to put on some jammy pants.

You can tell that her day has been long. She doesn’t even say anything until after she’s had a long drink of beer.

“How did it go?” she asks, meaning the meeting with Carla.

“Fine, I guess. They spied on the other team.”

Adella pauses in the act of putting a napkin on her lap. “What?”

“Free Gurls. They spied.” You shrug at her, picking up your sandwich. “No other way to say it. They record the Patriots.”

“Patriots?”

“It’s what Ellen’s calling her team. So now there’s two teams in America called the Patriots that nobody likes.”

Adella is from Spain; she doesn’t care about American Football. She might not even know that it exists.

“Have you seen it?” she asks.

“I was waiting for you.”

“How sweet.”

She’s tired, but game. This Winter Soccer situation has riled up her competitive spirit. There is not a political bone in Adella’s body, but she doesn’t like the idea of being told what to do because she’s a woman. Ellen’s brand of politics rubs her the wrong way for that reason.

“Should we look?” she asks, giving you a questioning look. She’s really asking if you’re comfortable with it. Ethically.

“Here’s what I think,” you say, stirring your soup with your spoon. “I think we look. If the other team looks like normal kids, then we stop trying so hard and let them play. I don’t care who wins if it’s mostly fair.”

Adella nods. “And if they are not normal?”

“Then we do whatever it takes,” you say. Talking to Carla has made you feel more committed to this. You like Carla. You like Stef and Jessica. Their connection to your mom, and now to you… it feels like it matters. You don’t want to let them down. “What?” you ask, annoyed at the look she’s giving you.

“You are cute when you think,” she says, a little smugness in her sexy accent.

You scowl at her and point your spoon. “That’s not what you say if you’re wanting to feel the touch of a woman tonight,” you threaten.

Adella laughs, then looks apologetic and eats her salad.