The Stonewall-Schmarvard Basketball Game

You show up to the Stonewall-Schmarvard game with a hotdog in hand, your stomach freshly filled from the tailgate party. You haven’t had a good old fashioned American burger grilled like that in some time. You’re also lightly buzzed, having drunk a beer or two at the party outside. Valentine’s still got a beer ‘stealthily’ hidden in a brown paper bag that she takes a quick swig of as you walk into the stadium. Mars, for her part, carries a bottle of coke that has a dash of rum in it. Though there’s still some time before the game’s due to start, the stadium’s already humming, close to packed with all the students come to cheer on the Greys. The three of you crane your necks, searching for somewhere to sit.

“I don’t see any open spots,” you frown. “Are we going to have to stand?”

“Hey, there’s a couple seats by the middle over there,” Mars says, pointing to a spot on the sidelines. “Let’s snag them.”

“Nice spot, gal,” Val laughs, clapping Mars on the back.

“Yeah, well, if Alex isn’t helping me get with any of the guys on the soccer team, then I figure that I’m going to have to do all the work myself,” Mars says, giving you a meaningful look.

“You’re just jealous that I set Val up with someone at the tailgate,” you say. “Quy was a pretty fly guy.”

“Gorgeous abs,” Val nods. “I sure hope he never puts on a shirt again. You bet I’m going to text him after the game ends.”

“Right, so where is my guy?” Mars grumbles.

“You didn’t even point out a guy to Alex earlier,” Val laughs. “How’s he supposed to wing you? This one’s on you babe.”

The three of you make your way up to the cluster of empty seats that Mars spotted and sink down onto the plastic chairs just as the pre-game festivities kick off. A brass ensemble comes out and starts playing some upbeat march, closely followed by the cheerleaders waving their white and grey pom-poms. Yeah. The Stonewall colors aren’t all that exciting.

But the fanfare gets the crowd going anyways. Chants of “Let’s Go Greys!” make their way around the stadium, and you watch as the cheerleaders—hot to the last girl in their tight spandex and billowing hair—form a pyramid in the center of the court. And sure enough, there on the second row of the pyramid is Lisa. She isn’t the most buxom girl on the squad, nor the leggiest (though she does give even the taller girls a run for their money), but there’s something about her confidence and build that draws your eye to her. You swear that it’s not just you being a creep, because you hear a guy in the row below pointing her out to his buddy, the words “smokin’ hot” barely audible over the rest of the chants.

“What are you staring at, Knight?” Mars says. “One of those girls trouncing around down there catch your eye?”

You polish off your hotdog, chewing silently, your eyes frantically scanning the crowd, because being caught ogling your sister isn’t a good look, no matter how hot she is.

“No, I was just… There!” you exclaim, pointing down by the front row seats. “That’s Rachel! And look, Griffin’s not with her!”

“No shit,” Mars says. “{if GriffRach == 2} They broke up. {elseif GriffRach == 3} They broke up. {elseif GriffRach == 50} They’re on a break. {elseif GriffRach == 100} Couples don’t have to always be together, you know. {else} They’re on a break. {endif}”

Val takes another swig out of her beer, scanning the crowds too, and she stabs a finger into the air.

“And there’s Griffin,” she says. “He looks shit-faced already. Those guys he’s hanging out with… which frat’s that? That’s a fine looking group of men.”

“Gosh, you’re thirsty tonight,” you laugh a little too loud, secretly relieved that neither girl called you out for perving on Lisa.

“She’s always this thirsty,” Mars says. “I’m surprised you’ve just cottoned on. She was staring at the Theta girls too just now, you know.”

“Oh, and where are they?” you ask, scanning the stands and failing to spot them.

“Some eyesight you’ve today,” Val snorts. “They’re over there on the other side of the court.”

The Thetas are color coordinated tonight in their black and gold, looking cute in matching jumpers. You spy Savannah and Tatiana chatting with one another in the center of the group, while Imogen sits by the edge of the girls, clearly chatting up the man sitting next to her.

“And hey, there are the Zetas,” Val says, pointing to another group of girls with front row seats. You see your sister Gina there, effortlessly nailing the trophy-wife look with her oversized luxury handbag and a boob window that gives you a miraculous eyeful of cleavage. She’s flanked by her sorority sisters, all of them gorgeous. “Of course they scored prime seats.”

“I hear they always get a bunch of freshman guys to hold seats for them,” Mars says, looking down at the girls with a mixture of admiration and jealousy. “It’s crazy what guys’ll do for a minute of time with girls like them.”

“Well, they are lookers,” you say. “You don’t know how hard it is for any straight guy to resist the siren call.”

{if Leona > 0} {else}

Avril, Leona, and Hana
{endif}

“O-hoh, so you do think your sister’s hot,” Val cackles.

“What!?” you protest. “No! I never said that! It’s…um… all of them are hot except for Gina.”

“You know, you’re allowed to say that your sister’s hot without it being weird,” Mars laughs. She leans over and pokes you in the side. “It’s only weird if you make it weird.”

“Well, I’m not making it weird, I just didn’t want you to think the wrong way about me, that’s all,” you quickly say. “Gina is hot, but not hot to me, you know, just objectively speaking…”

“Uh-huh,” Val slowly nods, her smile once more turning more predatory than you like.

Crap. Time to change the topic before—

“So you’d like to fuck her, hmm?” she says.

“WHAT!? Of course not!” you say, trying not to grow flustered. But clearly you’ve failed.

“Don’t worry, looks like the Schmarvard guys think the same,” Mars laughs, pointing at the guys coming out onto the stadium. They announcer’s doing their introductions and names and would you look at that, the boys in Crimson are all swooning and showing off for the Zetas in the front row.

“You know, I do owe you one after you got me Quy’s number,” Val says, patting your back. “If you want, we could do our thing with Gina, sweet talk her a bit…”

You roll your eyes.

“Cut it,” you say. “But you did get one thing right, Val. The two of you owe me one. I played wing-man for you, so you’ve got to play wing-girl for me. And you know what, there is somebody out there who I could use your help with tonight.”

“Oh?” Mars asks, leaning forward, suddenly very interested in what you have to say. “Come on, spill the beans. Who is it?”

Mars +5
Valentine +5